The Delicate Darling with Her Rough Man

Chapter 14: Chapter 12: Gu Jiaojiao Cooks

”Don’t talk nonsense.”

”There’s nothing between me and Gu Jiaojiao. She’s a married woman now, so don’t say things like that again. It’s bad for a woman’s reputation.”

Yun Hao gave his friend a weary look, warning him not to spout nonsense.

Gu Jiaojiao had confessed her feelings for him before, but he simply wasn’t interested in romance at the time, so he had rejected her.

But Jiaojiao never gave up, which had frustrated him for a long time. Now that she and Leng Yuan were married, it was best to let bygones be bygones.

He just hoped Gu Jiaojiao could live a good life.

And yet, even as he thought this, he knew she had done it all for him.

Hu Ziqiang scoffed, completely dismissing his friend’s concerns.

”The way I see it, Gu Jiaojiao will definitely come looking for you again.”

Hearing this, a look of resignation flashed across Yun Hao’s face, but he didn’t argue with his friend.

Leng Yuan walked straight home. Before he was even close, he saw smoke rising from the chimney. His expression remained unchanged as he walked right up to the front door.

The main gate was open, and the sounds of cooking drifted from the kitchen.

Ever since his parents had passed away, Leng Yuan had been alone. He always came home to an empty house and cooked for himself. But today, he was startled to find the house spotless, the courtyard gate open, and someone inside. For a moment, his cold, hard heart stirred.

Gu Jiaojiao was in the kitchen, cooking.

Since she had decided to build a good life with Leng Yuan, she had to show her commitment. But when she went to the kitchen to start cooking, she found the cupboards were nearly bare. There was only a little rice left at the bottom of the jar, a few pounds of cornmeal, less than half a jar of oil, half a jar of salt, half a bottle of soy sauce, and no other seasonings whatsoever.

Gu Jiaojiao was speechless.

Seeing this, she had to admit that no matter how tidy a man might be, his culinary skills were likely limited to just cooking food until it was edible.

She went out to the private plot behind the house and picked a handful of fresh greens. There was some leftover chicken and broth from lunch, so she decided to make chicken congee. She’d add plenty of vegetables to make it more flavorful. As for the cornmeal, she could mix it with the greens to make pan-fried flatbreads.

In her past life, Gu Jiaojiao had been a foodie. She would often go out of her way to learn from top chefs just to satisfy a craving. Whether it was Chinese, Western, or any other cuisine’s dishes and desserts, Gu Jiaojiao knew her way around a kitchen.

But her greatest expertise was in Chinese cuisine.

Chinese cuisine prized a vast array of techniques: stir-frying, flash-frying, quick-frying, deep-frying, and sautéing; pan-frying, searing, braising, simmering, and stewing; steaming, blanching, boiling, poaching, and scalding; cold tossing, pickling, roasting, pot-roasting, and jellying; smoking, rolling, velveting, baking, and hot-potting; not to mention caramelizing and honey-glazing.

Western cuisine, by comparison, was much simpler, its methods less complex.

Only Chinese cuisine, with its long and storied history, was so particular. It was divided into the Eight Great Cuisines, employing 24 common cooking methods, though a master-level chef could utilize close to fifty.

In her past life, Gu Jiaojiao’s culinary skill was at the master level, but she had never managed to reach the rank of grandmaster.

Grandmaster was the highest level, but she had never been able to cross that threshold. Her master had told her she was still missing something—as for what that was, she would have to discover it for herself.

Gu Jiaojiao had only learned to cook because she loved to eat, but her desire to do everything to the best of her ability had propelled her to the master level. As for becoming a grandmaster, if she couldn’t do it, so be it. All that mattered was that she enjoyed her own cooking. And yet, deep down, she still felt a little dissatisfied.

Striving for perfection was one of Gu Jiaojiao’s quirks. It was the same with everything: if she liked something, she had to be the best at it.

This had its pros and cons. The pro was that she grew quickly, excelling at any single thing she put her mind to and achieving great success.

The con was that she was easily trapped by obsession, stubbornly insisting on perfecting one thing and demanding a final result. But many things in the world don’t have a final result. Even if you do your best, it doesn’t mean you’re truly the best. You have to remember there’s always someone better out there.

Those were the words her master had used to caution her.

But now, holding a handful of greens, Gu Jiaojiao felt the need to argue the point.

’Looks like reality can shatter my perfectionism after all,’ she thought. ’And I can live with it. I mean, aren’t I about to use these hands, which once crafted world-class cuisine, to make simple vegetable flatbreads?’