Gu Tangjin entered the kitchen to assist Ji Rongxia.

The Ji family’s kitchen contained only a single hearth and a clay stove. This stove stood less than halfway up Gu Tangjin’s calf—stout and squat, resembling a small drum with an open top. Firewood was stuffed into the opening, and placing a clay pot on top allowed them to cook porridge. The Gu family’s restaurant also had quite a few of these stoves; they were convenient for simmering clay-pot soups to sell in the winter, but were put away during the summer.

At that moment, brown rice porridge was simmering in the clay pot. As the porridge was about to boil over, Gu Tangjin quickly picked up a spoon and gently stirred it a few times.

Ji Rongxia, meanwhile, transferred the burnt fish to a plate.

Ji Rongxia used a small knife to quickly scrape the fish scales again, removing the burnt parts and cleaning out the innards once more.

After washing the pot clean, he first rubbed a little lard on it. Dry-heating was simply too harsh on an iron pot; as a cook, Ji Rongxia felt a pang of regret whenever he saw the burnt residue on his own pots.

Once a cast-iron pot is properly seasoned, nothing sticks to it—whether you’re frying, deep-frying, grilling, or boiling.

All the cast-iron pots, big and small, at Gu’s Restaurant were meticulously maintained by Gu Chuncai. When Gu Chuncai taught Ji Rongxia the art of cooking, he also taught him how to season pots and sharpen knives, as both pots and knives were the restaurant’s most precious assets.

Ji Rongxia took a sniff and detected the scent of Chinese bayberry in the burnt residue; it seemed that since his brother’s fulang had become pregnant, he’d developed a taste for spicy food.

He cut the prepared grass carp into pieces, then sliced some ginger and chopped some scallions.

Ji Rongxia glanced outside the kitchen. Seeing this, Gu Tangjin didn’t wait for a signal; he skillfully used her broad shoulders to block the door for him.

“System, give me some chili sauce. Just one spoonful will do,” Ji Rongxia quietly requested in his mind to the Cooking God System.

“As you wish, Host.” No sooner had the System spoken than a spoonful of chili sauce appeared in Ji Rongxia’s wooden spoon.

Ji Rongxia added a little oil to the bottom of the pot, then tossed in the ginger slices, scallion segments, and chili sauce to sauté until fragrant.

Once the red oil was released, he pan-fried the fish pieces. Technically, he should have used more oil to deep-fry the fish for better flavor, but cooking oil was expensive at home—unlike in restaurants—so Ji Rongxia didn’t use too much and just made do.

He added soy sauce and a pinch of coarse sugar to the pot.

Finally, he poured in some water, covered the pot, and let it simmer.

Soon, the spicy braised fish chunks were ready.

Ji Rongxia noticed a bunch of celery on the cutting board, so he chopped it into segments and added it to the stir-fry.

The celery was a bit tough—wide but not crisp. Gu Tangjin carefully picked off the yellowed leaves and washed the stalks clean,

Ji Rongxia first made a vertical cut along the length of the washed celery to split the thick, tough stalks into thinner pieces, tearing out some of the tough fibers before cutting them into sections and stir-frying them.

The celery prepared this way wasn’t particularly crisp, but it was better than simply cutting it into sections and stir-frying it.

The Cooking God System had just emerged from its semi-dormant state in response to Ji Rongxia’s call. Now, watching its host treat a bunch of old celery with such care, it suddenly felt a twinge of doubt, wondering if the thousand mini-world quests it had completed were too slapdash.

A culinary god should not only use high-quality ingredients and top-notch kitchenware to create delicious meals, but should also be able to cook tasty food under limited conditions. Previously, when completing tasks, it had ample energy and provided the host with the best possible conditions—it seemed that, to some extent, this had hindered the host’s growth.

Braised fish chunks, stir-fried celery, and brown rice porridge were served one by one.

“All done!” Ji Rongxia clapped his hands. “Mom and Dad, dinner’s ready.”

He looked at his creations with satisfaction, just about to give himself another round of praise.

When a notification sound rang out.

【Ding, one serving of passably stir-fried celery.】

Ji Rongxia froze. He didn’t think he’d completed a quest, so why was there a scan evaluation and a notification sound?

【Ding, Rare Cooking Skill Triggered: Turning the Ordinary into the Extraordinary.】

【Current Skill Level: Level 1.】

【Current Skill Effect: Greens prepared by you will be exceptionally fresh.】

Cooking God System: “???!!!”

It’s actually a rare skill!

“What exactly are culinary skills?” Ji Rongxia was a bit confused.

The Cooking God System paused for two seconds before answering: “Host, do you remember the personal panel I showed you? Culinary skills are listed there.”

“Oh, oh, oh, I remember now—that shiny blue mirror!” How could Ji Rongxia possibly forget?

Cooking God System: “Culinary Skills are special culinary abilities granted by the system. The trigger rate is extremely low; out of every thousand tasks I’ve completed, only thirty-six hosts across all worlds have triggered a Culinary Skill. You created a delicious meal under limited conditions, which triggered the Culinary Skill.”

“That sounds a bit like magic.”

“So, can I make food that glows in the future? Can it cure illnesses?” Ji Rongxia’s eyes lit up as she asked excitedly. If it could cure illnesses, might Tangjin’s leg get better?

Cooking God System: “……”

The host’s imagination is still as vivid as ever.

“No, host. The changes are all within reasonable limits. It can only make your vegetables taste better. Food itself cannot glow or cure illnesses—so it simply cannot glow or cure illnesses. If you want diners to improve their health by eating your food, you’ll need to learn how to prepare medicinal cuisine.” The Cooking God System decisively dashed Ji Rongxia’s hopes.

In short, it all comes down to one thing: you still have to keep your feet on the ground.

“Oh. I see,” Ji Rongxia thought to himself. It didn’t seem particularly useful, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about the vegetables getting tough and losing their flavor, which wasn’t bad.

Although Ji Rongxia felt a tiny bit disappointed, he still quite liked this skill. After all, contentment brings happiness.

Ji Rongxia snapped back to reality and found Gu Tangjin holding his hand, leading him into the courtyard.

The Ji family ate their evening meal in the courtyard.

Seeing Ji Rongxia suddenly zone out, Gu Tangjin knew he was talking to the system. Gu Tangjin carefully extinguished the fire in the kitchen, then led Ji Rongxia out. Walking ahead, he shielded him with his shoulder. It was getting dark again, so even though Ji Rongxia had been a bit dazed just now, Hong Yuelian and the others hadn’t noticed anything amiss.

Ji Rongxia gently squeezed Gu Tangjin’s palm, signaling that he was done speaking with the system.

The braised fish chunks and stir-fried celery were both served. Hong Yuelian served Qian Xuecheng several pieces of fish in quick succession: “Xia-ger’s cooking skills have really improved. It smells so good—you should eat more.”

“That’s enough, Mother,” Qian Xuecheng said, covering the rim of his bowl. “You should eat too.”

“Alright,” Hong Yuelian replied, but what she picked up with her chopsticks was a serving of celery. When she put it in her mouth, it wasn’t particularly crisp, but it was stir-fried to a savory, salty flavor with hardly any tough fibers—it actually tasted quite good.

“I thought this celery was old, but how can it taste this good?!” Hong Yuelian looked surprised and delighted.

Hearing this, Qian Xuecheng, Master Ji, Ji Ronghu, Cao-ger, and Xiao He all picked up some celery to eat.

Cao-ger’s eyes widened. This dish was much better than the stir-fried spinach he’d sneaked a bite of during the New Year—the celery wasn’t tough at all!

Xiao He alternated between bites of celery and coarse rice porridge—it was delicious.

Qian Xuecheng chuckled, “It is good. Learning how to cook really makes a difference.”

“Not at all. Try this fish too. It should be decent,” Ji Rongxia said, his reserved attitude melting away in an instant.

Ji Ronghu: “Alright, let’s eat the fish.”

Everyone dug into the fish.

The fish was salty, fragrant, spicy, and numbing, with a rich sauce—you’d never guess it had been overcooked!

Ji Ronghu exclaimed in surprise, “Little brother, you’re amazing! You actually managed to salvage this fish!”

“This fish is spicy and fragrant—I’ve never tasted fish like this before.” Qian Xuecheng took a bite and immediately fell in love with it; the meat was incredibly appetizing, leaving him wanting more.

Ji Rongxia waved his hand and replied in the style of a storyteller: “Just a trivial trick—please don’t laugh at me.”

Hong Yuelian chuckled, “You’re getting all flustered just from a little compliment! The fish is indeed well-prepared. Tangjin, please ask your father-in-law to teach Xia-ger how to cook. It’s thanks to his dedication that Xia-ger has made such progress.”

“Not at all. My father is delighted that our family’s culinary skills are being passed down,” said Gu Tangjin.

Both the braised fish chunks and the stir-fried celery were delicious, and everyone ate heartily. Just as the meal was nearly finished, Hong Yuelian remembered to ask, “By the way, you haven’t told me yet—why did you come over today?”

Ji Rongxia exchanged a glance with Gu Tangjin, and Gu Tangjin spoke up: “Didn’t we discuss buying land yesterday?

We did the math and found we have enough silver to buy two or three mu of fertile land. We thought we’d let Mother and Father know and ask them to help look around to see if anyone is selling land.”

“Really?” Hong Yuelian had just picked up a piece of celery with her chopsticks, but upon hearing this, she stopped eating and dropped the celery into her bowl of coarse rice porridge. “You aren’t just teasing your old mother, are you?”

Ji Rongxia: “Not at all, Mother. It’s just enough for two or three mu of land; we don’t have any extra silver to spare.”

“Is that true?”

It sounded so far-fetched to her. Hadn’t they only just mentioned a glimmer of hope for this? How could they already have the money?

Ji Rongxia said with a touch of pride, “It’s true. A merchant placed a large order for pastries at our shop today, and I made quite a profit.”

He didn’t mention the sale of the recipe directly. He only spoke of Wei Liangce and the others buying pastries—this was what Ji Rongxia and Gu Tangjin had agreed upon before coming. The matter of selling the recipe could be discussed privately with their parents, brother, and brother-in-law later.

Xiao He and Cao-ger were still young, and they hadn’t been staying with them for very long. If word got out that they’d earned forty taels just from selling a recipe, it would only invite resentment.

They understood the principle of not flaunting one’s wealth—especially windfall gains.

“I knew you were capable—you’re practically walking on air.” Hong Yuelian felt slightly reassured.

Carpenter Ji: “Two or three mu isn’t a small plot. Where exactly do you want the land?”

Ji Rongxia propped her chin on her hand and said, “Somewhere closer to the county seat, so Tangjin and I can drop by often.”

“Do you plan to farm it yourselves?” Hong Yuelian asked upon hearing this.

Ji Rongxia: “Of course not. We don’t have that much time, even if we wanted to. I was thinking of paying for day laborers during the busy farming seasons and hiring someone to keep an eye on things the rest of the time. Ideally, the farmers living nearby would be willing to help look after it a bit. We wouldn’t ask them to do it for free—we can negotiate how much to pay them annually.”

If Tangjin’s uncle’s family were reliable, they wouldn’t have to go through all this trouble; they could simply buy land in Yao Village, where the Yao family lives. That would work, wouldn’t it?

Seeing that the two of them had a plan, Hong Yuelian nodded and said, “That’s a good idea.”

Carpenter Ji: “In that case, we’ll need to find a kind and trustworthy family.”

“Take your time looking; there’s no rush. The main thing is to find the right fit,” Ji Rongxia said.

Gu Tangjin urged, “Right, take your time. Mom and Dad, why don’t you eat first?”

After discussing this happy news, Ji Rongxia and Gu Tangjin didn’t linger any longer. Since it was getting dark, they hurried off before nightfall.

Before leaving, Ji Ronghu grabbed a handful of wooden hairpins he’d made himself and handed them to Ji Rongxia, telling him to take them home to use.

“Take these, Xia-ger. I’ll be upset if you don’t accept them.”

Ji Ronghu had carved these wooden hairpins in his spare time; they were polished to a smooth finish and featured beautiful designs. A single pin could easily fetch three or four wen on the market. Since his younger brother was always bringing things home—and had even cooked for them today—Ji Ronghu felt it wouldn’t sit right with him if he didn’t give him something in return.

Ji Rongxia didn’t refuse; he happily accepted them: “Alright, I’ll take them then.”

After returning home, Ji Rongxia and Gu Tangjin washed up first. Once back in the room, Ji Rongxia couldn’t wait to lie down on the bed.

“I’m so tired,” Ji Rongxia muttered.

Gu Tangjin stepped forward to massage his arms.

Ji Rongxia’s arms felt as if they had no bones, letting him massage them freely.

“Today, I learned another little spell.”

“It’s just a spell that makes wilted greens look fresher.”

“The Little Master said this ability is very rare, but he also said it can’t make the vegetables glow, nor can it… cure illnesses.”

Ji Rongxia wanted to tell Gu Tangjin more about that culinary skill, but Gu Tangjin’s massage felt so good that before long, he started to drift off.

Half-asleep, Ji Rongxia’s words came out all jumbled.

Yet Gu Tangjin somehow understood. His massaging hands paused, and he leaned in to ask earnestly, “You want the food to cure illnesses—are you trying to cure my leg?”

“Uh, no, not… magic.” Ji Rongxia had already closed his eyes, struggling on the brink of sleep.

Gu Tangjin felt a warmth in his heart. He had originally planned to wait until their lives were more stable and leisurely before confiding in Ji Rongxia about his leg.

Now he didn’t want to wait anymore.

He gently kissed Ji Rongxia’s rosy, plump cheek: “Go to sleep. My leg is fine; it doesn’t need healing. Tomorrow I’ll run and jump for you to see.”

Ji Rongxia was so sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open. With his eyes closed, he reached out dazedly to hug Gu Tangjin and mumbled softly, “You… you’re teasing me again.”