Quick Transmigration: The Divine-Looking Host is Always Pampered by a Powerful Boss

After checking into the hotel, Chu Zhuo took a video of the room and sent it to Ji Chongyuan: "Arrived at the hotel safely."

A few seconds later, I received a photo of a cafeteria plate from Ji Chongyuan.

Braised beef brisket, yam and wood ear mushroom slices, stir-fried spinach, and a bowl of tomato meatball soup—a balanced meal of meat and vegetables. I barely touched my white rice.

Is it almost 1:30 before we're having lunch?

[Zhuobao: Ji Chongyuan, you've stopped eating on time since I left?]

A message popped up at the top of his phone, the intimate nickname suggesting he had already kept the person hidden away. Ji Chongyuan clicked on it, his eyes darkened after reading it, and he typed a reply.

[Ji Chongyuan: I was too busy today, so I ate a little late.]

[Zhuobao: People need food to survive... Never mind, you eat first. I'll call you at the right time tonight to keep an eye on you (cat secretly observing.jpg)]

Having stumbled upon a blind spot in his knowledge, Ji Chongyuan asked a friend for a set of emojis and picked a matching one to respond.

[Ji Chongyuan: (Puppy sliding on its knees apologizing.jpg)]

After replying to the message, my colleague sitting across from me asked in a strange tone, "Professor Ji, are you... having some kind of trouble?"

Ji Chongyuan was usually very gentle and polite, rarely showing any emotional fluctuations. In the years we worked together, I almost never saw him smile, let alone with a hint of smugness.

What a disillusionment! This is completely unlike Ji Chongyuan's usual image.

"No." Ji Chongyuan didn't explain further, put his phone back in his pocket, and ate his meal calmly.

His colleague responded with an "oh," clearly indicating that Ji Chongyuan didn't want to talk about it, and he didn't ask any further questions.

After finishing his classes at Yenching University and arriving home, Ji Chongyuan took a breather and answered a call from Chu Zhuo. The boy's clear voice came through the receiver and reached his ear: "Ji Chongyuan, what are you having for dinner?"

"The four-course banquet is called a meal," Ji Chongyuan said honestly. "The place we used to eat at can't compare to Zhuobao's cooking."

After a pause, the man teased, "I kind of miss your... cooking."

Chu Zhuo didn't notice the pause in his speech and chuckled, "Of course, I'm one of a kind."

The answer clearly indicated that he hadn't received it, and Ji Chongyuan's brows furrowed with helplessness: "I'll send you a photo when the food arrives."

"Okay, I'll wait for Ji's report." Chu Zhuo said and hung up the phone.

Ji Chongyuan: "?"

The dial tone was close to her ear as the phone was hung up. A moment later, Teacher Ji's usually calm expression couldn't help but show a hint of doting affection.

The chef competition in Qinzhou is located at the convention center. You can view the competition venue one day in advance. The hotel I booked is very close by, only about a ten-minute walk away.

Chu Zhuo wandered around outside. The exhibition hall was set up, and staff members were checking details with walkie-talkies as they went in and out. No one was allowed to go any further.

After completing the lap, Chu Zhuo went to a nearby restaurant for a bowl of noodles. That evening, as usual, she called Ji Chongyuan. The competition officially began the next day.

They changed into the shirt, apron, and chef's hat provided by the program organizers.

Everyone was dressed in the same outfit, but Chu Zhuo made an immediate impression on the judges with her outstanding face.

He really doesn't seem like the type of person who would go into the kitchen.

A middle-aged man in his forties passed by him and muttered sarcastically, "I've seen plenty of people like you. You're young and don't know your place. You think you can show off just because you know a few dishes?"

Chu Zhu retorted on the spot, "Otherwise, why would you be so old and only now starting out to struggle?"

The bald man looked menacing and adopted the demeanor of an elder, thinking he had picked an easy target.

He was met with a blunt retort from Chu Zhuo, but he held back his anger, pretended not to hear, and continued walking forward.

001 kicked him in mid-air: [What a lunatic.]

The competition is held over two days. Each person prepares two dishes: a designated dish and a self-selected creative dish.

The designated dish is lotus root. For self-selected creative dishes, contestants need to submit their dishes one week in advance, and the organizer will purchase the necessary ingredients.

The registration fee included the cost of ingredients, and the organizer provided a general range of dishes. This time, the range was mainly home-style cuisine.

Salt, chicken bouillon, MSG, pepper, and other seasonings are all provided by the organizer. Any homemade seasonings must be inspected and approved by the organizer.

There are 15 workstations on site, and the competition time is 50 minutes. Each contestant must complete the preparation of the dish within the specified time.

Chu Zhuo entered the seventh operating table in order and took out the knives and arranged them one by one.

At exactly nine o'clock, the referee pressed the countdown button.

Chu Zhuo slowly sharpened the knife and began working.

First, cut off the bottom of the pineapple, cut it in half, and then cut it into chunks and scoop out the pineapple flesh.

Slice the pork shoulder, pound the slices with the back of a knife, add salt, pepper, scallions, ginger, cooking wine, etc., then pour in the egg yolk, mix well, and marinate for a while.

During this time, the bell peppers should be washed and prepared.

Roll the marinated pork slices into balls, dip them into a bowl of starch to coat them with white starch, and press them firmly to make them stick together.

Heat oil in a wok until it smokes, then add the sweet and sour pork pieces one by one and fry until they change color. Remove them from the oil, then heat the oil again and fry them again for about ten seconds before removing them from the wok.

Next comes the seasonings: tomato juice, sugar, white vinegar...

The sweet and sour taste made the other contestants nearby glance at it.

Fifty minutes have passed, and all participants are now on pause.

There were five judges in total. The one in the middle was the most senior, possessing national-level culinary qualifications. He had half-white hair, was fifty-three years old, and was a famous gourmet in Yinzhou City.

He has an extremely sensitive palate and a discerning palate. No matter how delicious a dish may seem to outsiders, he can still find one or two flaws in it. And when other judges carefully taste the food based on his comments, they do indeed find similar issues.

They just couldn't taste it and subconsciously ignored it.

Staff members affixed numbered labels to the tableware and brought it to the judges' table. Contestants were not allowed to disturb the judges' scoring and were invited to wait in the waiting area.

The total score is 100, which includes five aspects: color, aroma, taste, knife skills, and shape.

After finishing a dish, Wei Qiang quickly gave it a score without any hesitation, maintaining a serious expression throughout.

Until a dish with a sweet and sour flavor that stimulated their appetite was served, and the aroma wafted into their nostrils before the staff even lifted the lid, Wei Qiang's eyelids twitched slightly, and he nodded inwardly.

Putting everything else aside, we've already made a judgment on the aroma alone.

The other judges also smelled the aroma, but they were not as experienced as Wei Qiang, so they were the first to serve it to Wei Qiang.

The iron lid was lifted, revealing half a pineapple holding sweet and sour pork. The round meat slices, with their bright red and yellow contrasting colors and touches of green, looked very festive at first glance.

Place the other half upside down to form a complete pineapple platter.

Wei Qiang gripped his chopsticks tightly, picked up a piece of sweet and sour pork and fed it into his mouth. He chewed slowly and carefully, then ate a piece of pineapple. Finally, a hint of satisfaction appeared on his expression.

As dishes were served to the judges, the atmosphere in the waiting area was tense.

The bald man who had been lecturing Chu Zhuo earlier said sarcastically, "We'll soon find out who has real skills and who's just pretending. In the culinary world, experience is still the most important thing."

"I've been helping out in the restaurant since I was seventeen. I've been cooking for almost thirty years. I'm older than some of the older people. When they come to us seniors, they'll probably have nowhere to cry."

In their group, most of them were around thirty years old, but Chu Zhuo looked the youngest, about twenty-four or twenty-five.

Everyone's gaze subtly drifted towards where Chu Zhuo was sitting.

Chu Zhu scoffed, "Only stray dogs bark at people."

The bald man, relying on the large number of people present, thought that Chu Zhuo would be polite, but he miscalculated. The moment he was insulted back, his blood rushed to his head and his face turned red.

Young people these days have no respect for the elderly. The bald man felt utterly humiliated and slammed his fist on the table, shouting, "Who the hell are you calling a stray dog? I didn't name names, why are you taking it personally?"

"Between the two of us..." Chu Zhuo looked him up and down, but he remained sitting upright, unaffected by her gaze. "It seems like you're the one who's taking this personally, isn't it?"

The bald man staggered a few steps, and the people next to him quickly grabbed him: "Hey, brother, don't be angry. Peace brings wealth, right? Fighting will disqualify you from the competition."