great-warnovel Chapter 172 The Defeat Was Not Unjust
Chapter 172 The Defeat Was Not Unjust
"A national-level master, my junior brother is Song Ming..."
Zhou Benchang repeated these words in a murmur, his cloudy middle-aged eyes widening almost to the point of bursting at that moment.
It really is him...
The real one is the "living Kitchen God" who resides deep within the archives of the Red Wall, a figure revered by countless senior officials and veterans of state banquets, and capable of overturning the rules and principles of state banquets with a single hand!
In just a few seconds, a terrifying mental storm swept through Zhou Benchang's mind.
You should know that the name "Chen Feng" is found in at least eight or ten thousand places across China; it's as common as a pebble on the roadside.
When he found out this morning, he was so arrogant and dismissive, thinking that a legendary genius who stood at the pinnacle of power would never give up such a promising future to open a hole-in-the-wall restaurant in this remote alley in the south of the city!
But today, Zhou Benchang actually stumbled upon this utterly ridiculous coincidence!
However, after a moment of near-terrifying shock.
Zhou Benchang's right hand, which had been tightly gripping his trouser leg, slowly relaxed.
His middle-aged face, which had turned a deep, purplish-red from the shame of defeat, was now contorted with rage.
In that instant, a strange sense of self-comfort arose, which could even be described as extremely relieved and relaxed.
"So it was him...no wonder."
Zhou Benchang sighed heavily in his heart.
He diligently and respectfully studied within the red walls of the capital for eight years, and he believed that his knife skills had reached the level of the best in the south of the city.
He was sitting in Old Liu's noodle shop, eating a bowl of braised pork noodles that he hadn't even mastered seven or eight tenths of the skill of cooking. The more he ate, the more desperate he became. He even doubted whether he had wasted most of his life, wondering why he couldn't even control an old man.
But now that his true colors were revealed, Zhou Benchang's initial awkwardness and humiliation were instantly replaced by a sense of "it's only natural."
It's not that Zhou Benchang is too incompetent, nor that his eight years of experience in the capital are unworthy of recognition.
The real reason is that the "true god" that stood blocking the old street early this morning is an insurmountable mountain that no cook in the world can climb over!
To be defeated so decisively and thoroughly by someone who can control everything is not shameful at all; on the contrary, it becomes a great blessing!
"Losing to that person... is not unjust. It really is not unjust..."
But as this self-comfort settled in his heart, Zhou Benchang's hard-earned confidence in helping capital suppress others vanished completely in that instant.
Should we let Su Ang continue working?!
Go and fight a living Kitchen God who even his ancestor would offer him a cigarette?!
Even if Zhou Benchang were greedy for money, he wouldn't want to ruin his reputation for integrity for the rest of his life by wasting it on this dry pond.
The atmosphere inside the carriage was extremely somber.
Su Ang sat at the head of the table, coldly watching the ever-changing expressions on the face of the master of the red walls in front of him—one moment his face was deathly pale, the next he was gritting his teeth, and then he even strangely let out a sigh of relief, revealing a kind of Buddhist-like strangeness that was almost liberated.
Although Su Ang was extremely anxious, he was very shrewd and kept a low profile. He simply observed them coldly without uttering a word and did not disturb them.
Only when Zhou Benchang, drenched in sweat, raised his head and his cloudy eyes finally regained their senses, did Su Ang speak slowly and in an extremely cold and hoarse voice:
"Chef Zhou, judging from your expression... it seems you've not only heard of this name, but you actually know this Mr. Chen across from us?"
"President Su... it's more than just knowing her."
Zhou Benchang sighed somewhat awkwardly. Now that things had come to this, he couldn't care less about anything else. He could only blush and truthfully recount to the capitalist in the Mercedes-Benz carriage the fantastical and extremely terrifying legendary fragments about Chen Feng inside the red walls of Beijing.
After revealing all the details—such as overturning the stove with one hand and the old leader personally inscribing the calligraphy—Zhou Benchang's face was left with only the most withered and powerless bitter smile:
"Mr. Su, to be honest..."
I, Zhou, used to be in the capital, but I was so inexperienced that I wasn't even qualified to be his assistant.
Today, regarding the overall situation in this old street... I am truly powerless to change anything.
No matter how much real money you spend, no matter what tricks I, Zhou, have up my sleeve today, as long as we clash head-on with the real deal at the stove... we have absolutely no chance of winning.
The difference in taste is ingrained in the very essence of nature; there's no way to remedy it.
As Zhou Benchang spoke, he subtly swallowed.
In fact, what he really thought was:
[I think that with the limited, rigid skills I have, they're not even qualified to carry shoes for that man Chen Feng!]
But Zhou Benchang had always cared about his reputation for most of his life, and he certainly couldn't say such a weak and honest thing as tearing his self-esteem down and trampling it on in front of his benefactor, Su Ang.
"No chance of winning... No matter how you compare them, there's no chance of winning..."
After hearing Zhou Benchang's most straightforward and desperate report, Su Ang's face turned pale, and his hands slid limply down the handrail.
At this moment, Su, the young master who was invincible in the business world and who boasted that he could use digital models and the giant screen of capital to achieve cross-border dimensional reduction attacks, finally had no way out.
Despicable tactics?! That old man in the capital has already given a death order.
Anyone who touches it will die!
They haven't even scratched the surface of practicing internal energy!
A capitalist-driven blockade?!
Thirteen chain stores, the super bait of 9.9 yuan, the overwhelming black gold cards and private domain customer locking, the net of tens of millions of yuan has not even been sealed for ten minutes on the slightly blackened wooden door next door!
Just because of Ah Hao's million-dollar mukbang videos showing him "disguised" and "stomach pumping" pictures, he completely broke down online, becoming Chen Feng's most glorious free kill!!
As for taking a downgraded approach to culinary arts, focusing on high-end and refined cuisine?!
Su Ang gave a self-deprecating sneer.
He turned his head and glanced coldly at the plastic takeout box on the island platform, which he had just scraped clean, leaving not a single hair on it, so clean that it reflected his disheveled face.
Even something Chen Feng casually tossed to an old man, something he couldn't even finish with seven or eight tenths of his skill, could still trample on the arrogance of this young master and the master craftsman Zhou Benchang. What's the point of him pursuing the high-end route?!
He had studied business models and elite logic his entire life, but in that instant, the two rows of eerie blue flames at the bottom of the old street roasted him into a pile of meaningless waste paper.
This was the first time in Su Ang's life that he had truly felt so powerless.
This was also the most complete and frustrating defeat he had ever suffered since entering the business world, a defeat so devastating that he couldn't even muster the slightest thought of resistance!