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“My name is Wu Minqi, you can call me Sister Wu, Minqi, or Qiqi,” Wu Minqi said with a smile, seeing through Ji Xia’s thoughts.

“Sister Wu, can I ask you a question?” Ji Xia asked.

“Of course, you can ask anything,” Wu Minqi appeared very patient.

“What do you think I can do in the future? I failed the college entrance exams and didn’t even pass high school. Before, at FZ, many places didn’t want me,” Ji Xia knelt on the ground, somewhat bewildered, “Do you know of any cotton mills or garment factories in Beiping hiring workers?”

Wu Minqi laughed, “They say among the 360 trades, there’s a master of each. It’s true that a person shouldn’t be confined to the single path of academics, but you shouldn’t just focus on garment or cotton mills either.”

“Then what can I do?” Ji Xia asked.

“What are you good at?” Wu Minqi replied.

“I can…” Ji Xia thought for a moment, “I can sweep floors, feed pigs, raise chickens, hoe, cook, fight…”

Jiang Feng: ???

Kid Ji Xia, do you have some misunderstanding of the word ‘can’?

Wu Minqi chuckled lightly, “Oh, you’re good at fighting?”

“Yes,” Ji Xia nodded confidently, “I once fought with four boys in our class and didn’t lose.”

“But fighting can’t be a hobby, much less a career. Haven’t you ever thought about your future? Like, what profession you want to pursue? Teacher? Journalist? Painter? Scientist? Astronaut? Writer? Or something else?” Wu Minqi started to steer the conversation.

True to form, Ji Xia followed Wu Minqi’s lead and began to think further, “I want to be a chef.”

“Why?” Wu Minqi and Jiang Feng chorused in unison.

Ji Xia’s eyes darted down, and she pursed her lips, “I want them to know that if my sister can do it, I naturally can too.”

At heart, she was still a child full of competitive spirit.

Wu Minqi didn’t outright dismiss Ji Xia’s words but began to help her plan how to become a chef, “So, do you know how to go about becoming a chef?

Ji Xia looked perplexed, “How? Isn’t being a chef just about cooking? I’ve been able to cook since I was a child.”

“Chefs are categorized too. The ‘cooking’ you’re speaking of is from a Red Chef, and there’s also the White Chef, who specializes in pastries and noodles; they are entirely different. Moreover, if you really plan to be a chef, do you intend to work in a small eatery or in a proper restaurant? Or in a top-notch hotel as a chef, whether as a Chinese or Western cuisine chef, or even Japanese, Thai, Indian, Mexican, and so on. Even if it’s Chinese cuisine, there are many different schools and styles. Have you thought about what kind of chef you want to be in the future?”

Ji Xia was dumbfounded.

Jiang Feng and Wu Minqi both noticed Ji Xia’s bewilderment, even Jiang Feng had been slightly taken aback when Wu Minqi had reeled off her long list of options.

“And that’s not all. I’m also a chef, and I can tell you very directly that it’s very difficult for a girl to become an excellent Red Chef. The temperature in the kitchen during the summer is extremely high, it’s like a huge furnace with no air conditioning, and even if the mightiest electric fan is blowing on you at the highest setting, you might still sweat like rain. Wok handling requires strength, which is a particularly tough job for women,” Wu Minqi said.

“Then why did you choose to be a chef, Sister Wu?”

“Because I love it. I don’t know why your sister wants to be a chef, but both Jiang Feng and I have been cooking since we were young, learning to hold a kitchen knife before we even learned to write. Our parents were chefs; being a chef is a tradition for us, as well as a duty,” Wu Minqi explained.

Speaking, Wu Minqi glanced at Jiang Feng.

“If it’s just to compete with your sister, to be driven by the desire to outdo her to choose to become a chef, that can be a Pyrrhic victory. To be a good chef, you need to find a master and learn from him. It could be 5 years, or 10 years, or even more than a decade before you finish your apprenticeship. Learning to cook is a tough and long journey; if you don’t have enough determination and passion, you won’t be able to stick it out,” Wu Minqi advised.

Ji Xia fell silent.

After a while, Ji Xia slowly spoke up, “If I don’t become whatever you call a Red Chef, and I just want to learn to make buns, steamed bread, pastries, cakes, and cook porridge, how long would I need to learn?”

“So, Xiaxia, you want to be a White Chef?” Wu Minqi asked.

Ji Xia nodded. Having talked with Wu Minqi for so long, she had let her guard down and couldn’t help but reveal her true intentions, “I originally planned to work in a garment factory or somewhere else for a few years, save up money, and then open a breakfast shop in town.”

Jiang Feng, who had been listening to their conversation, couldn’t help but see Ji Xia in a new light. He had thought Ji Xia’s running away from home was just like most kids, impulsive, with no purpose or planning, but it turned out Ji Xia had clear plans for her future.

Wu Minqi encouraged her, “That’s great, but why do you want to work for a few years to save money instead of becoming an apprentice to a White Chef in a restaurant, where you can earn and learn at the same time?”

“Is that possible?”

“Of course it’s possible. Even if you can’t become an apprentice, just being a kitchen helper or a vegetable chopper in a restaurant, you can learn a lot just by watching. And why only open a breakfast shop? If you really learn a lot, you can completely open your own restaurant, porridge shop, or dessert store on your own. You don’t have to stick to the town. You could open one in the county, or even in the city. As long as you’re skilled enough, you could even open a shop in Beiping City,” Wu Minqi began to entice Ji Xia with prospects.

Ji Xia was tempted by Wu Minqi’s words, but still hesitant, “But will any shop really be willing to take me in?”

“That depends on what you can do now. Can you cook porridge, make buns or steamed bread? Or do you know how to make other more special things?” Wu Minqi asked.

“I can do all that you mentioned. I work at the canteen in our school in the morning, and the chefs there taught me,” Ji Xia said, “And I can also pull noodles.”

“You can pull noodles?!” Jiang Feng almost shrieked.

What kind of a school canteen is this, where not only does the chef know how to pull noodles, but also has the leisure to teach a working student this craft.

Is it the legendary New East affiliated middle school?

Scared by Jiang Feng’s reaction, Ji Xia hesitated a little, “Noodle… noodle pulling, what’s wrong with that?”

Could it be that Beiping people never eat noodles, or do they have some taboo against noodle pulling?

“Nothing.” Jiang Feng swallowed, “I’m just a bit surprised, actually… actually, noodle pulling is quite difficult. I just didn’t expect a chef who makes breakfast in a town middle school canteen to know how to pull noodles.”

“I learned it from Master Liang at the noodle shop in front of our school,” Ji Xia explained, “I haven’t gone back home to live since junior high, and Master Liang’s noodle shop needed a handyman. So I went to help out, with meals and lodging included; Master Liang even cleared out a storeroom for me to live in and paid me 300 yuan a month. Sometimes I would help out on the weekends too, and Master Liang would provide meals—enough beef noodles and even let me add as much beef as I wanted. I worked there for more than two years, and starting from the second semester of junior high, Master Liang began teaching me how to pull noodles.”

“How many pulls can you do at most now?” Jiang Feng asked.

“Ten pulls.”

Wu Minqi looked at Jiang Feng, who silently stared at the ceiling.

He didn’t believe it. He thought Ji Xia was bragging.

A year’s time, and not even every day at that, from beginner to ten pulls, that’s impossible.

“We happen to have some dough at home, why don’t you come over and give it a try!” Jiang Feng decided to expose Ji Xia’s lies.

“Hmm?”

“I know quite a few restaurant owners in Beiping, if you really can pull ten times, I can help you find a job,” Jiang Feng started spouting blatant lies.

“Okay,” Ji Xia believed it to be true.