That evening, Jiang Feng almost ascended to the heavens with a wok in the kitchen, under the strict supervision and instruction of the two elderly Sirs.
He was still stir-frying sugar color and simmering tender sauce. Jiang Weiming would only be strict if Jiang Feng made obvious mistakes while making these before, with most other times he was quite amiable.
But times had changed, and it was Jiang Feng's own doing—signing up on a whim feels great, but the kitchen is like a crematorium when training. Now, if the sugar color and tender sauce weren't the perfect "Fire Control" to the two Sirs' satisfaction, he would receive the scathing critique of Jiang Weiguo's "heavenly justice" and Jiang Weiming's "thorn in soft cotton."
Most of the time, the conversation went like this:
