Chapter 88: Adding Dishes to the Official Order?
Just how exhausting was this day?
Chef Ling hadn’t even had a spare second to eat lunch.
From the moment the doors opened at dawn until dusk, she had only managed two quick sips of water.
The rest of the day had been a nonstop blur of tossing woks, slicing braised master-stock platters, restocking skewers into the Malatang pots, tallying bamboo sticks, clearing disposable trays, setting out fresh plates, and refilling dipping sauce dishes…
Midway through the day, the one-pot stew ran out, forcing Ling Jing to find a spare window to cook two more massive cauldrons.
Fortunately, anticipating that she would need to handle both stir-fries and stew refills today, she had bought an extra large iron wok from the Mall last night.
Running two woks simultaneously saved the day.
Otherwise, the cookware alone wouldn’t have kept up.
After an entire day of frenzied labor at peak mental focus, when the final bell tolled to signal the close of business, Ling Jing felt physically drained, but mentally electric.
There was a peculiar, deeply satisfying high that came from working yourself down to the bone.
It felt just like a breezy, sunlit Sunday back in her school days: sitting down at your desk at eight in the morning with a crystal-clear mind, settling instantly into the zone, and grinding away uninterrupted until twilight, churning out ten full math exam papers with an accuracy rate above ninety percent.
Grumble—
Her stomach, however, was on the verge of a full-blown revolt.
Business had just wrapped up and the patrons were filing out, so Ling Jing walked over to the front counter and pulled a freshly boiled ear of corn to chew on.
Just to take the edge off.
Today’s foot traffic had practically doubled.
Every time Ling Jing poked her head out from the kitchen, she saw a snaking queue stretched out before the Item Exchange Box.
The outdoor benches were completely packed, to say nothing of the ground-floor dining room.
Roasted potatoes and sweet potatoes were easy enough to grab and eat on the go, but the Malatang skewers—equally cost-effective, intoxicatingly fragrant, and endlessly appetizing—drew huge crowds willing to wait for a table.
It was definitely time to expand the ground floor’s footprint again.
Still gnawing on her corn, Ling Jing caught sight of figures in black tactical uniforms approaching out of the corner of her eye.
Ah, right. Now that regular operating hours were over, she still had an official catering order to settle.
She quickened her pace, polishing off the cob in three bites.
The man leading the group was Yves himself.
Flanked by a sizable detachment of city guards.
Ling Jing swept her gaze over them; the uniformed soldiers were all hauling… massive sacks?
Yves pushed the door open and stepped inside alone, while the rest held their positions outside, waiting for orders.
“Boss Ling. We brought the carcasses of mutated creatures. Can we feed them directly into the exterior exchange box?”
The Commander asked.
“You can,” Ling Jing replied, slightly curious. “What kind of mutants did you bring?”
Whatever the brass brought in was bound to differ from the produce harvested around the farmlands.
“Mostly mutant frogs, marsh octofish, mutant reeds, and mutant vipers. The rest are a mixed assortment; there are far too many varieties to list.”
Mutant frogs? Were they the edible kind?
The name “octofish” was entirely new to her; she had no clue what that looked like.
“Understood.” Ling Jing nodded.
Any salvageable ingredients would be automatically sorted into the Item Exchange Box’s spatial storage and logged under [Assets] on her system panel.
She could browse the catalog at her leisure once it was fed.
“This is the intelligence Boss Ling requested.”
Yves handed a dossier folder to Ling Jing.
Taking it into her hands, she casually flipped it open.
[Outside North Wall]
Inside Safe Zone: Coordinates X380 Y290 — Green Tree Mutant, F-Rank. Known Attack Pattern: Branch lashing, piercing strikes. (Approximate location: 6 km north, 3 km west of the North Wall)
Coordinates X-120 Y75 — Suspected Sickle-Grass Belly-Flower Chimera, Suspected E-Rank. Known Attack Pattern: Unknown. (Approximate location: 9 km north, 6 km west of the North Wall)
Coordinates…
Outside Safe Zone: …
[Outside West Wall]…
[Outside East Wall]…
It was remarkably detailed.
This was exactly what she had in mind.
Whenever she craved a specific ingredient—or rather, a specific mutant carcass—she could follow the coordinates and ram straight into it on her electric tricycle.
The coordinates appeared to be military telemetry data left unexplained in the document.
Thankfully, approximate real-world locations were carefully noted right alongside them.
The sections for the North Wall and East Wall were the most extensive, the West Wall was relatively sparse, and the South Wall was missing entirely.
“This dossier is compiled from our scouts’ biweekly patrols of the safe perimeter. The data for the North and East Walls is updated frequently for specific tactical reasons, whereas the West Wall’s data is already twelve days old,” Yves explained. “As for the South Wall… we currently lack the operational capacity to map the terrain beyond it.”
“Understood. This is plenty.” Ling Jing tucked the folder away.
Seeming to suspect the restaurant’s supply chain, Yves added, “A word of caution: the region beyond the South Wall is extraordinarily lethal. If you ever intend to venture there, our garrison can provide whatever assistance lies within our power.”
“It’s fine, no need,” Ling Jing replied smoothly.
With the system backing her up, there was no such thing as a beast she couldn’t handle—only whether she felt like harvesting it.
What she needed was a navigation map to locate raw ingredients, not armed escorts.
Hearing Boss Ling’s flat refusal, Yves tactfully dropped the subject.
Instead, he shifted gears: “Then our side has fulfilled all your initial requests, yes?”
“Your promotional efforts were remarkably effective. My thanks.” Ling Jing nodded. “However, you may need to wait a short while for your provisions. The Malatang skewers just went into the broth, and the one-pot stew needs to be prepared fresh.”
She dusted off her hands, gearing up to plunge back into the kitchen.
“Take your time,” Yves nodded. “We will begin processing the mutant carcasses outside.”
Glancing toward the staircase leading upstairs, he ventured, “Would you mind if I… look around for a moment?”
“Go right ahead.”
Leaving him with that, Ling Jing pushed into the kitchen.
Forty portions of one-pot stew meant firing up at least three massive cauldrons.
She might as well run two woks at the same time.
Lighting the burners and heating the lard, she tossed in scallions, ginger, garlic, and dried chilies, tumbling in thick slices of pork belly to render out their fat over a searing flame. Once the meat was nicely browned, in went the fresh vegetables for a rapid toss before ladling in seasoned water.
The steps for the one-pot stew were burned into Ling Jing’s muscle memory.
Running low on sweet potato vermicelli, Ling Jing restocked a sizable batch straight from the System Mall.
With both cauldrons simmering, she clapped the heavy lids shut.
Right at that moment, Caicai poked its square head through the kitchen door: “Boss, Caicai would like to inquire if we may take an order from a guest right now?”
Hm?
Ling Jing looked up. Yves stood a polite distance behind Caicai, deliberately keeping clear of the kitchen threshold.
Yet his face was etched with undisguised anticipation.
“The guest who just visited the second floor wishes to place an order.”
“What does the Commander want?”
“May I order one of everything?”
“…”
Ling Jing eyed the two massive cauldrons already stewing on the stove, feeling a pang of hesitation.
She had an immense workload ahead of her tonight.
Expanding the restaurant layout, then taking her freshly acquired navigation dossier out into the wastes for a midnight hunt.
She had plenty of braised items left, particularly the braised pork.
However, tossing a large batch of custom stir-fries was a massive time sink, and she still had forty portions of one-pot stew to finish.
Weighing her options, she reluctantly conceded, “Alright. But the braised platters are limited to what’s left in stock, and stir-fries are capped at ten portions total.”
“Deal.”
Tsk.
Turning down cold, hard cash placed right on her doorstep went against every principle she had.
