Playing the Lute to a Cow

Chapter 42: Casting Pearls Before Swine

Getting kicked out directly, not even a shred of face given.

In the car, Zhen Xiaoqiu frowned and said, "You called it exactly. Once the show aired, no one was willing to take us in. What do we do now?"

"We'll try other restaurants—Fu Lin Restaurant, Lei Garden, A Yi Abalone, Da Fu Hao, Jia Lin Building, Quan Ji Seafood Restaurant. Hong Kong still has plenty of places."

But they ran to many restaurants, and every single one refused to receive them. It was as if all these restaurants had coordinated, guarding against their show like a fortress, not even allowing them through the door.

The next evening, the second episode aired. Ratings remained high, but Imperial Kitchen took a hit too, just like Da Long Feng Restaurant—its reputation tarnished, business plummeting.

The Gourmet Roast show had truly made a name for itself.

Boss Wu smashed another television.

He picked up the phone again. "A Rong, that Stephen Chow—I want his two legs. Two legs!!!"

Meanwhile, an old acquaintance found Jiang Hao.

"Uncle Quan, long time no see." Inside a private room at some hotel, Jiang Hao greeted an elderly man.

"Ah Xing, come sit. I called you here to discuss something." The old man spoke unhurriedly.

This elder was the vice president of the Hong Kong Catering Association, a man with serious clout. Back when Stephen Chow was in the restaurant business, he had paid respects to this old man's turf.

"Uncle Quan, go ahead."

"You and I have some history. Your catering company went under because of A Da, and you've already gotten your revenge. That business has nothing to do with anyone else. I hope you won't drag other restaurants into it. You know—once a restaurant's name is ruined, business gets tough."

"I understand your situation now. You're struggling too. A few members of our association talked it over and pooled together some money. Take it to live on. As for that show, I think it's best you drop it. How about that?"

The old man slid a check across to Jiang Hao. Jiang Hao glanced at it—the number was 500,000.

Five hundred thousand. To the old Stephen Chow, it was a drop in the bucket, but to an ordinary person, it was a fortune.

"Building a reputation isn't easy. We won't let anyone smash it lightly. If someone tries to take the food out of our mouths, we won't be happy. It's like a fly getting into the room—we'll find a way to swat it dead. Don't you agree?" Uncle Quan said again, unhurriedly.

Money plus a threat.

Jiang Hao nodded. "I understand, Uncle Quan. I know what to do. Oh, by the way, Uncle Quan—if I do a show on foreign restaurants, you wouldn't interfere, would you?"

Uncle Quan chuckled. "They're not members of the Hong Kong Catering Association. Naturally, we have no say over them."

Jiang Hao picked up the check, nodded to the old man again, and left the hotel private room.

On the way, Jiang Hao transferred the money to his own bank card. When he got back to Zhen Xiaoqiu's place, he found her worrying. Seeing him return, she snapped, "Hey, where did you go? Our show can't move forward, and instead of figuring things out, you're running around."

Jiang Hao sat down and looked at Zhen Xiaoqiu. "We need to change our approach for this show."

"Change how?"

"We can't just keep targeting Chinese food. The world is big—we should take the audience to see it. Indian food, Japanese food, French food, Italian food—all of that works too," Jiang Hao said.

Zhen Xiaoqiu's eyes lit up.

"Right! That works too. Why didn't I think of that? I'll find someone to draft a plan and put together a few scripts right away." Zhen Xiaoqiu, pumped full of Chicken Blood again, ran off to work.

Now that he had money, Jiang Hao could actually skip the show altogether—spend it on food, taste the world's cuisines. Once he ate enough, he'd naturally complete the task.

But was 500,000 enough? Not really.

Someone might say, "500,000 isn't enough for you to eat?"

Keep in mind, eating, drinking, whoring, gambling, and smoking—all of them burn through cash fast. Some top-tier ingredients, like tiger penis, bear paw, deer lip, camel hump—even before they're cooked into a dish, the materials themselves are exorbitantly expensive. Spending hundreds of thousands on a single meal is nothing unusual.

When Xiaoqiu came back, she had a proposal in hand. She shoved it in front of Jiang Hao. "Take a look at this script. You're still the lead."

Jiang Hao read through the proposal. "Not bad. If we keep going like this, the ratings won't drop."

Xiaoqiu was thrilled. "Then let's start tomorrow."

"Alright. Let's start."

Jiang Hao paused, then looked at the excited Zhen Xiaoqiu. "Xiaoqiu, I'm planning to move out."

Zhen Xiaoqiu froze. "Why move out?" But then she stopped herself. She felt she had no right to stop him. "Yeah, you're right. You've been sleeping on the couch for a week already."

"Of course, if you let me sleep in the bed, I won't leave," Jiang Hao said with a grin.

Xiaoqiu's face stiffened. "Go to hell."

After all, they'd lived under the same roof for several days—going in and out together, studying the show together. She'd grown used to it. Jiang Hao suddenly leaving stirred a hint of reluctance in Zhen Xiaoqiu.

That same day, Jiang Hao moved into a rented apartment.

The next day, the Gourmet Roast team set out again. This time, they headed to an Indian restaurant called "Basil," recommended by Michelin—worth looking forward to.

The restaurant's decor was lavish and grand, like a palace. Indian music played, and an Indian beauty danced on stage.

Jiang Hao and Zhen Xiaoqiu sat down and started ordering. A camera beside them filmed; the restaurant assumed they were recording some kind of couple's show and paid no mind.

"Vegetable pakora, large grilled prawns, Indian naan, homemade yogurt, lamb curry, dal makhani, tandoori platter, masala chai."

Staring at the food on the table, Jiang Hao felt he had no appetite. But since he'd ordered it, he might as well taste it—maybe there'd be a pleasant surprise.

There wasn't.

He tasted every dish but didn't gain a single point of "Taste of Gourmet Food" task value—how disappointing. Jiang Hao felt he should wrap up the show as quickly as possible and escape this place.

"Please call your head chef over. I'd like to comment on these dishes," Jiang Hao said to the waiter.

"Sure, sir."

The waiter soon brought the chef over. The chef had a dark face and nodded politely at Jiang Hao and Zhen Xiaoqiu.

Jiang Hao pointed at the food on the table and said, "I think we made a wrong choice. Honestly, it's terrible. Curry, curry, curry—everything tastes the same."

"And the presentation of these dishes is a disaster. Blobs and puddles, yellow and sticky, like something out of a stomach bug. Couldn't you at least make them look appetizing?"

The waiter stood there dumbfounded. It was the first time he'd heard a guest criticize their food so bluntly.

As for the Indian Chef, he kept a smile on his face the whole time, nodding along.

Zhen Xiaoqiu and Jiang Hao were both taken aback. This chef had incredible composure—not even getting angry. The waiter whispered, "Um, the chef doesn't understand Chinese. Do you need me to translate?"

"Pfft~"

Zhen Xiaoqiu couldn't help but laugh. Jiang Hao looked awkward. He'd been talking for ages, only to be preaching to the choir.

And so, their trip to the Indian Restaurant came to an end.