Xiao Lei was forty-five years old and stood around five-foot-seven. He wore a white chef’s uniform, washed so many times it had started to pill, and a pair of traditional cloth shoes with thick, stitched soles.

He had a square-jawed face and hair meticulously combed into a side part. A few white hairs streaked his temples, and his hairline was receding precariously, but he still looked sharp and energetic. His rolled-up sleeves revealed powerful forearms, a clear sign of his authority in the culinary world.

This was the first time Zhou Yan had seen Xiao Lei since his arrival, yet the word "Master" slipped out of his mouth without the slightest hesitation. Looking at the man, he felt a natural sense of kinship.

In the original Zhou’s memories, Xiao Lei was a strict master who held him to an incredibly high standard. A mistake would earn him a harsh scolding, immediately followed by another meticulous demonstration.

Zhou hadn’t yet mastered the subtleties of stir-frying and braising, as he had only just begun learning them. However, thanks to his master’s strict training, his Knife Skills were top-notch—the undisputed best among the apprentices his age in the canteen.

"A banquet for tomorrow?" Xiao Lei looked at Zhou Yan, puzzled. "Who holds a rural banquet and only starts looking for a chef the day before?"

"It’s for my brother’s wedding feast. We’d hired a local chef, but he was riding his bike this afternoon when a tractor cut him off. He fell and broke his hand, so he can’t work. Tomorrow’s an auspicious day, so every other local chef we’ve called is booked. When I was out of options, I thought of you, Master." Zhou Yan looked at him earnestly. "A thirty-table banquet... for a scene that big, you’re the only one who can handle it, Master."

"You’ve certainly gotten a silver tongue," Xiao Lei chuckled. "No wonder your business is taking off. The kid who used to be so quiet you couldn’t get a peep out of him now knows how to butter people up."

"I’m speaking from the heart. But running your own shop really forces you to grow. If you don’t learn how to talk to people, customers won’t even step through the door." Zhou Yan let his own smile fade, tempering his expression.

Over the past two and a half years, Zhou had spent more time with his master than with his own family. Xiao Lei was probably the person who knew him best.

’Good thing we haven’t seen each other in the three months since I opened the shop. The change from an apprentice to a self-sufficient boss is a plausible excuse for my new personality.’

"A thirty-table banquet is no simple matter. You need to prepare the pots, stoves, and tableware in advance. You have to line up helpers. For the cold dishes, you have to get the brine ready ahead of time. All I have in this bag are two cleavers and nothing else," Xiao Lei said, shaking his head as he pulled open his cloth sack to reveal the pair of knives. "I don’t think I can take this job on."

"The other chef’s cookware is all there; it was delivered to the site and stacked up yesterday. The temporary earthen stoves have been built, the host family has the tableware ready, and the helpers are all from the village and have already been contacted. I can handle the braised dishes—I’ve been learning from my grandmother recently." Zhou Yan glanced at the two gleaming cleavers in the sack, one a slicer and the other a heavy chopper. He was a bit puzzled. "But Master... it’s the middle of a workday. Where are you going with your knives?"

"Work? What work? I quit today," Xiao Lei said, slinging the bag back over his shoulder.

"You quit? Why so suddenly?" Zhou Yan was stunned. For two years, Xiao Lei had been constantly suppressed by Wang Defa, even getting demoted from Head Chef to a prep cook, and he never quit. So why resign now, after Wang Defa’s downfall?

"There’s no point in working there anymore. To hell with it," Xiao Lei explained with a smile. "I’m thinking of trying my luck at one of the big restaurants in Jiazhou or Rongcheng. Or maybe I’ll do what you did and open my own place." He then looked at Zhou Yan, a little puzzled. "You learned how to make braised dishes from your grandmother?"

"The economy is growing so fast now, being self-employed is better than working for a wage," Zhou Yan agreed, though he felt there was something odd about his master’s reason for quitting. He added, "The old Zhang’s Braised Shop, the one with the stall at the Suji Bridgehead? That was my grandmother. She was a local legend back in her day."

"Mrs. Zhang from Zhang’s Braised Shop is your grandmother?" Xiao Lei’s eyes lit up, and he nodded again and again. "Her braised food is without a doubt the best in Jiazhou! Back when my Master was still alive, he loved her cooking. You’ve found yourself one hell of a teacher for braised dishes."

"All my masters are top-notch," Zhou Yan said with a grin. "So, Master, since you happen to be free, why not take this banquet? My second uncle said they’ll stick to the original price—a fee of three yuan per table. You can pay the other chef a bit for using his equipment. Think of it as an auspicious start to your solo career!"

"Three yuan a table?" Xiao Lei mused. "Isn’t that price a bit steep?"

"That’s the price the other chef negotiated, and his skills are way worse than yours. If he can command that price, you’re more than worth it," Zhou Yan said with a laugh. "That’s the going rate. You have to charge what you’re worth. If people love the food, they’ll all want to hire you for their own banquets, and then you can really start naming your price."

Xiao Lei listened, sizing Zhou Yan up before smiling and nodding. "You’ve only been on your own for three months, and you’re already more farsighted than I am."

"So, Master, does that mean you agree?" Zhou Yan beamed.

Xiao Lei nodded. "Alright. I’m free anyway, so I’ll help your brother get this banquet sorted. A wedding is stressful enough without this kind of headache. Take me to Zhou Village. I want to see the menu the last chef planned so we can get started on whatever needs to be prepped in advance."

"Alright!" Zhou Yan was overjoyed. He led his master toward the restaurant to tell Zhou Jie and his grandmother the news.

"That’s wonderful! Master Xiao, thank you so very much," the old woman said gratefully.

"Mrs. Zhang, you’re too kind. Zhou Yan is my apprentice, so it’s only right for me to lend a hand," Xiao Lei said with a smile. "As for your braised dishes, my own master talked about them for years. He always said he longed to have your braised beef intestines again. If I’d known Zhou Yan was your grandson, I would have come begging you two years ago to make a couple pounds of them for him to taste one last time."

"Your master... is he Master Kong, the former head chef of the textile mill canteen?" the old woman asked. "Is he still in good health?"

"Yes, that’s him. I’m surprised you remember," Xiao Lei said with a faint, sad smile. "My master passed away last year."

A nostalgic look crossed the old woman’s face. "He used to come by every three days. He’d buy half a pound of beef intestines and a pig’s ear, bring his own little cup, and get a couple ounces of liquor from Old Zhang’s. Then he’d just sit on the long stone bench at the Stone Bridge Head, finish his food and drink, and head home. I remember it like it was yesterday."

Xiao Lei chuckled. "My master’s wife forbade him from drinking, so whenever he had a craving, he’d sneak over here for a couple of ounces. Afterwards, he’d walk a full lap along the flood levee so the smell of liquor would be gone by the time he got home. Otherwise, she wouldn’t even let him in the bedroom. He told me about it often, later on. He’d sigh and say that after they banned the street stalls, he could never have your braised food again. He drank a lot less after that, always saying life just felt a little less flavorful."

Zhou Yan listened from the side, completely engrossed. ’Stories about food should be just like this,’ he thought, ’full of the warmth of a kitchen and the flavor of humanity.’

After they exchanged a few more words, Zhou Yan told his grandmother that he would be the one preparing the braised dishes.

The old woman listened and nodded. "Alright. Tomorrow morning, after you pick up the pig heads and beef shanks, give me a ride over here. I’ll watch you work."

"Okay," Zhou Yan nodded. The matter was settled.

’A good brine is fed by meat,’ he mused. ’The more you cook in it, the more fragrant and complex its flavor becomes.’

’The sheer quantity of pork and beef needed for a thirty-table feast is staggering. It will be the perfect thing to season this new pot of brine.’

’I’m about to start selling braised dishes myself. If I do a good job at this banquet, my reputation will be made instantly.’

’And this is a whole new circle of people, completely outside the textile mill. A whole new set of customers, ripe for the picking.’

"So, are you coming back to cook tonight?" Mrs. Zhao asked, looking at Zhou Yan, who was already on his bicycle.

Zhou Yan looked back. "I’ll be back as soon as I get things settled over there. We definitely have to sell everything tonight."

"You got it," Mrs. Zhao nodded.

"Brother, I’ll wait for you to come back and make dinner!" Zhou Momo called out in her sweet, childish voice, waving her small hand.

"Okay," Zhou Yan replied with a smile and a nod.

The group mounted their bicycles and set off toward Zhou Village.

In those days, resources were scarce and no one had much money. People couldn’t afford a lot of pomp and circumstance, but what mattered most was creating a lively, bustling atmosphere.

Zhou Jie’s home was at the entrance to the village. The threshing ground out front had already been leveled and set with twenty or thirty tables.

Six makeshift brick stoves had been built near the entrance, and next to them were dozens of large bamboo steamers, stacked in piles as tall as a man.

Relatives and friends had all come to help. Some were moving tables and chairs, while others were pasting up red "double happiness" characters and paper-cut window decorations. The small courtyard buzzed with activity.

At the moment, however, several men were sitting on a long stone bench by the gate, smoking with worried expressions.

The local chef had suddenly broken his hand, and with the banquet preparations only half-complete, everything had ground to a halt.

The Zhou brothers were all calling in favors and pulling strings, and even the bride’s family was helping to find a new chef.

It had all happened so suddenly. Where were they supposed to find a suitable chef on such short notice? The date was set, the invitations had been sent out, and the guests were arriving tomorrow, but they still had no chef. The family was worried sick.

The second Zhou brother, Zhou Ze, stubbed out his cigarette. His dark, round face was etched with worry. He stood up. "I’m going to Jiazhou. I have some friends there; I’ll see if I can find a reliable chef to bring back."

"Dad, I’ll go with you. I have some friends in Jiazhou, too. If we’re looking on short notice, we’ll probably have to ask around a lot," said Zhou Hao, getting up. He was wearing his military uniform.

Zhou Ze shook his head and patted his son’s shoulder. "You’re the groom, you stay here. I’ll go to town and get your brother to come with me. Don’t worry. Even if I have to pay a premium to poach a chef from a restaurant, I will bring someone back to make this banquet happen..."

"Hey, isn’t that Zhou Jie and Zhou Yan?" Zhou Hai, who had the sharpest eyes, pointed down the road. "And there’s someone in a chef’s uniform with them! They must’ve brought a chef back!" He was pointing at three large, old-fashioned bicycles approaching in the distance.

"It really is them!"

With a great rustle of movement, everyone scrambled to their feet, their eyes lighting up as they stared down the village path.

With his grandmother riding on the back and the road being so bumpy, Zhou Yan didn’t dare to ride too fast. By the time they ambled up to his second uncle’s house, the entrance was already crowded with relatives staring out with desperate hope in their eyes.

The group parked their bicycles by the side of the road.

"Grandma." Zhou Hao strode forward to greet the old woman first, then turned to clap Zhou Yan on the shoulder with a smile. "Zhou Yan, you’ve gotten taller. Filled out, too."

"Hao," Zhou Yan replied with a smile.

’My cousin, Zhou Hao,’ Zhou Yan observed. ’He’s twenty-six and has been a soldier for eight years. It’s been over a year since he was last home. He’s five-foot-nine, with a lean, powerful build, a military buzz cut, and a sharp look about him. His right hand is covered in calluses and scars. He has a similar bearing to my youngest uncle, though he lacks some of that man’s ferocity—which probably has something to do with the scar by my uncle’s eye.’

"Zhou Yan, who’s this master?" Zhou Hao asked, looking at Xiao Lei as he took out a cigarette.

The expressions on the faces of Zhou Ze and the others were a mixture of tension and hope.

"This is my master, Master Xiao Lei," Zhou Yan announced, getting off his bike and making a formal introduction. "He’s the former head chef of the textile mill canteen, a nationally certified Class-Two Chef, a master of hot dishes, and the most beloved chef among all the mill workers." He paused for effect. "My master happened to be free for the next couple of days, and after I pleaded with him, he has graciously agreed to take over the banquet."

When they heard this, a light returned to everyone’s eyes, and a collective sigh of relief went through the crowd.

’Zhou Yan is the one we can count on!’

’He actually managed to get such a great chef!’

’The textile mill is the biggest and most profitable state-owned enterprise in Jiazhou. Anyone who can be the head chef in that canteen has to be incredible!’

’And a nationally certified Class-Two Chef on top of that! There’s no question about it—he’s in a completely different league from your average rural cook.’

"Master Xiao, thank you so much for coming. We’re counting on you for the banquet!" Zhou Hao said, hastily offering two cigarettes to Xiao Lei.

Xiao Lei accepted the cigarettes with both hands. "Don’t mention it," he said with a smile. "You’re a soldier, serving our country. When it comes to a major life event like your wedding, it’s our duty to lend a hand."

"Master Xiao, thank you, really. Otherwise, I don’t know where we would’ve found a proper chef," Second Uncle Zhou Ze said, his face full of gratitude. He stuffed a pack of Red Plum cigarettes into Xiao Lei’s hand, then hesitated. "About your fee..."

"The fee you agreed on with the last chef is fine," Xiao Lei said with a smile.

"Wonderful! Thank you," Zhou Ze said, grabbing Xiao Lei’s hand, his gratitude overflowing.

’It’s too late to make it to Jiazhou now, and the price would have been double, at least. It’s a miracle we have Master Xiao!’

"Brother-in-law! Brother-in-law! I found someone! I found a great chef for you!"

Just then, three more bicycles appeared on the village path. The young man in the lead was waving his arms and shouting at the top of his lungs from afar.