Courtyard House: In times of famine, my hamster became a spirit.

Inside the private room, He Yuzhu was still talking non-stop.

This guy was completely hyped up, even pacing back and forth in front of the big boss with his hands behind his back, acting as if he were the master of the room.

"To be honest, my cooking skills are based on the Tan family's culinary tradition! We've combined the delicacy of imperial cuisine with the fiery spirit of Sichuan cuisine—ah! That's what you call innovation! That's what you call art!"

He Yuzhu pointed at the barely touched dish on the table, spitting as he spoke: "You just said it was bitter? Wrong! Utterly wrong! It's a complex flavor! It's a smoky aroma with a hint of mellowness! It's a pity that although state banquets are grand these days, these authentic dishes are becoming increasingly rare. Only I can still uphold this old tradition..."

"You're an expert."

The senior leader suddenly spoke, cutting off He Yuzhu's self-praise.

He Yuzhu was taken aback for a moment, then his face, full of wrinkles, broke into a wide smile, and he straightened his back even more: "Oh, you flatter me! But in this small corner of Beijing, when it comes to kitchen work, if I, He Yuzhu, claim to be second, then no one dares to claim to be first!"

The senior leader slowly sat up straight.

His eyes, which had been half-closed, suddenly opened, his gaze sharp and piercing He Yuzhu's heart.

"Since you're an expert, let me ask you a question."

The leader's voice became somewhat ethereal, as if it had traveled through time, back to an era filled with the smoke of war, where even grass roots and tree bark were considered delicacies.

"Back when we crossed the grasslands into Sichuan, even if all the villagers had was a handful of coarse salt, a handful of chili powder that had gone moldy from being soaked in rainwater, or tofu ground with the coarseest stone mill and still containing coarse bean dregs, as long as they threw it into a pot and stewed it..."

The high-ranking leader paused, his eyes sharp: "Wouldn't that bowl of tofu, which only tastes of salt and spice, count as Sichuan cuisine?"

This is a question that could cost you your life.

The air in the private room seemed to freeze, and the temperature felt as if it had dropped to freezing point.

The secretary next to him had tears in her eyes.

Those who followed him knew that it was the deepest taboo in the leader's heart, the taste that sustained them through dire straits during that era.

That's more than just food.

That was life, that was faith, that was the last thought of comrades who died on the road.

Outside.

Upon hearing this, Zhou Jianguo raised an eyelid slightly.

This isn't a life-or-death question; it's like the big boss personally handing Sha Zhu a coffin lid and a hammer so he can nail it on himself.

really.

He Yuzhu didn't even think it through.

Or rather, this guy simply lacks any awareness.

All he heard were "coarse salt," "bean dregs," and "mixed stew."

"Hey! Boss, you've gone way too far with that joke!"

He Yuzhu scoffed, waved his hand, and showed the disdain of a city dweller looking at a country bumpkin: "You're just reminiscing about the bitter past! How can you call that Sichuan cuisine? What is it? It's pig swill—something made to fill your stomach when you're so poor you have no other choice!"

Pig feed.

As soon as those two words were uttered, Deputy Factory Director Li, who was standing next to him, closed his eyes in despair, his legs went weak, and he almost knelt on the ground.

It’s over.

Now, not even the Jade Emperor could save them, let alone the gods.

He Yuzhu, oblivious to his impending doom, remained completely oblivious to the fact that the high-ranking leader's face had turned as black as the bottom of a pot: "That kind of vulgar stuff is only treasured by those who are poor! How can you serve that kind of thing at a state banquet these days? That would be a disgrace to us workers! You have to eat my stir-fried..."

"Bang--!!!"

A deafening roar, like a thunderclap from a clear sky.

The exquisite white porcelain teacup was smashed to pieces, and the scalding tea mixed with the broken pieces of porcelain exploded on the marble floor, splashing all over He Yuzhu's trouser leg.

"Ouch!" He Yuzhu shuddered in fright, and his voice stopped abruptly.

He stared in horror at the suddenly enraged old man, completely bewildered.

The top leader was so angry that he was trembling all over and his face turned ashen.

He extended a trembling finger and pointed it at He Yuzhu's nose. The murderous aura he exuded, emanating from the mountains of corpses and seas of blood, exploded completely, making it hard for people to breathe.

"What a load of pig swill! What a 'vulgar' thing!"

The thunderous roar shook the ceiling lights violently.

"Without that bowl of pig swill, you wouldn't be where you are today! Without that bowl of coarse tofu, you'd still be working like a slave for the landlord! You wouldn't even have the right to be a slave!"

The high-ranking leader laughed in extreme anger, but his laughter sent chills down one's spine.

"I originally thought you'd just gotten a jumbled bag of skills and your mind went astray. I never imagined you'd be so fundamentally rotten! You've completely forgotten your roots!"

He Yuzhu was completely dumbfounded.

My mind went completely blank, and my CPU burned out.

He had absolutely no idea what he had said wrong.

That's what poor people eat. Is it wrong to tell the truth?

Why is this big leader just like Zhou Jianguo, always making a big deal out of nothing?

"Leader...I...I..." He Yuzhu stammered, still trying to argue.

"shut up!"

The top leader waved his hand, the gesture filled with disgust.

"You're terrible at cooking, and even worse at being a person! Your mind is full of hedonism, you're out of touch with the masses, and you look down on the wisdom of the working people! How dare you talk about tradition? How dare you be in the ranks of the working class?"

The senior leader turned his head, not even glancing at He Yuzhu again, and coldly shouted towards the door, "Where's Factory Director Yang? Tell him! This kind of person, whose thinking has seriously deteriorated, whose skills are lacking, and who is arrogant and conceited, is not fit to be in charge of cooking! Tell him to get out! Immediately! Right now! Throw him out!"

"yes!"

The guards, who could no longer contain themselves, rushed in like two cheetahs.

This time, there was no room for politeness.

Two guards, one on each side, clamped He Yuzhu's arms like iron clamps and twisted them hard at the joints.

"Ouch! Ouch! That hurts! I'm Sha Zhu! I'm the head chef here! I refuse to accept this! I refuse to accept this!"

He Yuzhu was still struggling desperately, veins bulging on his neck, shouting filthyly, "It's clearly because I don't understand! You're bullying me! I was invited by Deputy Factory Director Li..."

But in the hands of a professionally trained guard, he was as powerless as a newly hatched chick.

He was dragged directly out of the private room.

The soles of the shoes made a screeching "sizzling" sound as they rubbed against the ground.

As I passed by the door.

He Yuzhu's eyes, filled with resentment, met those of Zhou Jianguo, who was leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

Under the lamplight, Zhou Jianguo looked down at him.

That look held no sympathy, only a silent judgment.

He Yuzhu's pupils contracted as a sense of humiliation surged into his heart. Just as he was about to curse, the guard covered his mouth with his hand, and he could only let out a pitiful "ooh" as he was dragged in a sorry state into the darkness at the end of the corridor.

The world is finally quiet.

Deputy Factory Director Li, his legs trembling, cautiously entered the messy private room, head down, barely daring to breathe, cold sweat dripping down his nose.

"Boss...this...this is our dereliction of duty..."

The high-ranking leader stood by the window, his back to everyone, his chest heaving violently. After a long while, he finally let out a long sigh.

The sigh no longer carried the murderous intent of before, only weariness and disappointment remained.

"Little Li."

The senior leader's voice was hoarse, and it was heartbreaking to hear. "I just want a taste of home cooking, a taste of that era. Is it really impossible for such a large factory with tens of thousands of workers to recreate that taste from back then?"

"Does the fact that life has improved really change people's hearts?"

These words, though spoken lightly, struck everyone's hearts with a heavy blow.

A deathly silence and awkwardness filled the air.

Deputy Factory Director Li felt like dying.

Just then.

A steady, somewhat magnetic voice drifted in from the doorway, breaking the silence.

"The taste hasn't changed, what has changed is the person who cooks it."

Deputy Factory Director Li turned around, his eyes blazing with ecstatic joy, as if a drowning person had grasped at the last straw.

coming!

Our savior has arrived!

Zhou Jianguo patted off non-existent dust from his body, stepped out of the shadows, and stood right under the warm light at the entrance of the private room.

He remained composed, watching the senior leader's slightly forlorn figure as he added calmly:

"As long as that fire is still burning in my heart, that salt and chili tofu will always taste the same."

The high-ranking leader's body trembled slightly.