radicalducati Chapter 32 Her? How could that be!
Chapter 32 Her? How could that be!
"Director Wang, I want to sign up!"
A strong, resonant voice came from outside the crowd, and as everyone looked in the direction of the voice, they automatically made way for it.
A chubby man in a white chef's uniform and a tall hat walked over confidently; it was Liu Dazhu, the head chef of the first canteen.
He was surrounded by two apprentices, Zhang San and Li Si, making quite a show of himself.
Liu Dazhu walked up to the registration table: "Director, my two apprentices and I both want to register."
The three of them had already discussed it privately. They would all sign up together, and no matter who won, the prize money would be split among them, with Liu Dazhu taking the lion's share and the remaining two apprentices splitting it equally.
Director Wang was worried about not having enough people to sign up, but three people came at once, and he was immediately relieved and registered their names.
Among the onlookers, someone murmured, "Chef Liu is quite skilled at cooking Chinese food, but can he handle Soviet cuisine?"
Zhang San, Liu Dazhu's apprentice, overheard this and immediately retorted, "To tell you the truth, when the Russian's personal chef, Andrei, was around, my master served as his assistant for a full four months! My master has memorized all of his skills!"
He pointed to his shiny bald head and continued, "The perfect heat for borscht, the secret to searing steak, and that Olivier salad! My master could make it with his eyes closed!"
Li Si chimed in, "Exactly! I'm putting it this way: if my master can't do it, then nobody in the factory can!"
"Old Liu, I have faith in you!" Director Wang also voiced his support.
Whenever higher-ups came to inspect and needed special meals prepared in the canteen, Liu Dazhu was always in charge of cooking.
Every time, the leaders ate with beaming smiles and praised the food repeatedly.
Originally, the plan was to have Liu Dazhu cook for Ivanov, but he didn't want any Chinese people, thinking that foreigners' cooking couldn't possibly be as good as his own.
Ivanov was unaware of the factory's announcement offering a reward for the chef's services. The factory leaders' intention was to first demonstrate their attitude, letting the experts see the sincerity of the Chinese people and know that they had put in the effort and time to solve his meal problem, showing that they respected and cared about him.
Whether he'll actually taste the food is another matter; the point is to select a few people to go before him and get his approval first. The prize money is also just a formality; you can only get it if you get Ivanov's approval, which is practically impossible, hence the exorbitantly high reward amount.
Hearing Director Wang's positive assessment of Liu Dazhu, the people below began to clamor, "Master Liu, then you're definitely getting your bonus!"
"Of course! Chef Liu's culinary skills are undeniable, and he even learned Soviet cuisine from Andrei. He'll have the upper hand this time!"
"It has to be Master Liu, he's really amazing."
Liu Dazhu, flattered by everyone's praise, proudly puffed out his belly and said, "I'm not bragging, but nobody in this factory really knows more about Soviet cuisine than me."
Seeing his confidence, the men below exchanged glances: "Looks like we're out of the running this time. If nothing unexpected happens, the bonus is already in Master Liu's pocket."
Three people had already signed up. Director Wang signaled to his staff to pack up and leave. Anyway, his task was done, so he should hurry back to his office to rest.
Those who had been watching the spectacle were also preparing to leave.
As the saying goes, if nothing unexpected happens, something unexpected is bound to happen.
Lin Shuyao was just waiting for the first person to try it out. Now that someone had done it, she had nothing to worry about. While everyone was still discussing Master Liu, she walked up to the registration table and said, "Director Wang, I want to register too."
"you?!"
Director Wang pushed up his glasses, which had slipped down to the bridge of his nose, and looked her up and down in surprise. "You are...?"
Lin Shuyao readily gave her name: "Technical Department, Shen Qing."
"Are you really going to sign up?"
Report.
Director Wang confirmed: "Can you cook Soviet food? This isn't some child's play; this is a serious culinary competition. If you can't cook, don't come here and cause trouble, wasting ingredients."
Lin Shuyao nodded: "I wouldn't say I'm an expert, but I can cook the basic dishes."
No sooner had she spoken than a sneer came from the side. It was Zhang San, Liu Dazhu's apprentice: "You, a technician, shouldn't meddle. Do you even know what Soviet cuisine is? Do you know what butter looks like? Have you ever seen sour cream? Don't think you can show off just because you've had borscht at the Old Moscow Restaurant!"
Liu Dazhu squinted and looked Lin Shuyao up and down, then curled his lip and snorted, completely disregarding her.
Li Si glanced at Lin Shuyao, his face full of disdain: "A cooking competition isn't a place for a woman to show off. You can cook a couple of dishes for your man at home, but when it comes to making something presentable, it has to be the men in the kitchen!"
The shouting of the group attracted the crowd that was about to leave back.
Everyone stared at Lin Shuyao, their thoughts mirroring those of Liu Dazhu and his apprentice.
"Why are you guys from the technical department getting involved? You've mastered Chinese cuisine, so why are you making Soviet food...?"
"She looks so delicate, she's obviously never cooked before. She probably can't even tell the difference between soy sauce and vinegar. She's trying to cook? She might burn the kitchen down."
"Hahahaha... I'm dying of laughter. You know what, it's actually quite possible. My daughter-in-law also has such delicate skin. She's never even touched a kitchen knife since she was a child. The first time she came to my house to cook, she burned my pot dry. I was so angry... It was both infuriating and hilarious."
"She's not as pampered as your daughter-in-law. I know her; she's a new employee in the technical department. I heard her family is struggling financially; they can't even afford a mattress and are still sleeping on a bare wooden plank bed. She's probably here for the bonus, hoping to get some cash to improve her life."
"No way, are rewards that easy to get? If it were that easy, we would have done it this morning. Women are so naive..."
Listening to everyone's discussions, Lin Shuyao didn't care. There's a saying that goes something like this: people with low cognitive abilities have a stubborn streak in their heads. Before she wins the selection, no matter what she says, these people won't believe her.
Why should she waste her breath arguing with them?
She calmly looked at Director Wang, who hadn't yet filled in her name on the registration form: "Director, the announcement doesn't specify that only cafeteria cooks can participate, right?"
Director Wang shook his head: "No."
Lin Shuyao: "Then please fill in my name."
"Alright then." Director Wang reluctantly picked up his pen, added her name, and then announced to everyone, "The selection competition will be held tomorrow afternoon at 3 pm in the cafeteria's expert kitchen. Those who have registered, please be on time."
Lin Shuyao participated in countless competitions in her later years, and after registering, she didn't take this matter to heart at all.
But she never expected it to cause such a sensation. The news of her signing up for the competition spread like wildfire throughout the entire 306 factory in less than half an hour.
When Cheng Zheng was summoned to a meeting at the factory office, someone stepped forward, their tone laced with a hint of mockery:
"Representative, I never expected that your technical section was so full of hidden talents. There's even a female comrade who can cook Soviet cuisine. If we had known, we wouldn't have held this selection process. We could have just introduced that female comrade from your technical section to Ivanov."
The steel rolling workshop foreman chimed in, "Exactly! I heard that woman is stunningly beautiful. Her skin is incredibly fair, her eyes are bright and sparkling, and she walks with a swaying gait—she's even more captivating than those blond Russian girls! If you ask me, we were on the wrong track from the start. Why did we have to find a cook for Ivanov? We should have found a beautiful woman to 'have an in-depth conversation' with him! Don't you think so?"
Someone chimed in: "I think it's a good idea. No matter how technically brilliant the Russian is, he's still a man. Even heroes can't resist the charms of a beautiful woman. Let the women accompany the Russians to dinner, relax, and maybe... you know what, and the problem will be solved..."
The men in the room exchanged glances and let out knowing chuckles.
boom--!
A sudden and violent cracking sound rang out!
The teacup that Cheng Zheng was holding, which had just been brewed and was still steaming hot, flew out of his hand without warning and smashed straight into the conference table in front of the laughing men!
The white porcelain cup shattered into pieces, with fragments mixed with scalding hot tea splashing in all directions.
"what!"
"It's burning me!"
"hiss--!"
Several men jumped up from their chairs, some covering their faces, others shaking their hands. Their bare hands and cheeks quickly turned red, and they grimaced in pain. The entire conference room was filled with their screams.
Cheng Zheng remained seated, slowly taking out a handkerchief and gently wiping his fingers. His eyelids slightly lifted, his gaze sweeping over the disheveled men.
"If your mouth is dirty, wash it. If I hear those kinds of words again, it won't be tea I throw at you."
His eyes were dark and deep, and with just a casual glance, an overwhelming sense of absolute authority washed over them, instantly causing cold sweat to break out on their backs.
"Now, let's begin the meeting."
Cheng Zheng looked away and opened the meeting documents in front of him.
Several men clutched their wounds, grimacing as they sat back down, but dared not utter a sound, obediently picking up their pens and opening their work notebooks.