I became the King of Ryukyu

Zheng Yi was genuinely envious of those three free basic attribute points.

According to his understanding, the five-dimensional attributes on the game panel are high-level attributes.

For example, "martial prowess" is actually a combination of basic attributes such as "strength" and "speed" plus martial arts techniques.

Zheng Yi's biggest deficiency right now is basic attributes. With three free basic attribute points, he can max out the points for the "Weak Scholar" class and enter a new stage.

What guy doesn't dream of being a macho man? I'm actually kind of looking forward to it.

Old Zhu, please help me!

Thinking this, Zheng Yi sent Cheye, the chubby boy, to the third floor to do his homework, and then lifted the curtain and went into the kitchen.

The soft sobs stopped immediately. Yuji wiped away her tears with her left hand, glanced up at him, then quickly lowered her head and said in a slightly hoarse voice, "Why are you back so early? Don't you have to work at the convenience store? Oh, right, you're already working for a chaebol heiress."

Zheng Yi poked the mackerel on the tray with his finger; it looked good, but it was rock hard.

"The salt was added to the fish too early, and the meat became tough from being soaked in water."

Ji paused on the shoulder, raised her eyes and glared at him: "This, this batch of frozen fish is of average quality, it's not easy to grill it to get the juices out, it has nothing to do with my skills."

"The kombu in the miso soup was overcooked by eight minutes, and it has developed a bitter taste." Zheng Yi tasted the soup in the pot again.

"I deliberately made it strong! It's chilly at night, so a stronger drink will warm your stomach. What do you know?" Yuki hugged her knees with both hands, looking confident, but her ears were secretly turning a little red.

Zheng Yi didn't expose him, but changed the subject: "Let me give it a try. It's understandable that you didn't perform well because your hand was injured."

"Who needs your help?" Yugi immediately turned her face away, her tone stubborn. "I've been running this shop for two and a half years, and customers come every day. Everyone comes to drink and chat, not for the snacks."

Zheng Yi picked up the two remaining pickled radishes from the plate and took a bite.

"The pickled radish is quite good, with a perfect balance of sweet and sour, and it's crunchy enough."

Yuji paused, her arrogance instantly diminishing by more than half, but she still wouldn't back down: "N-of course. Pickling things is simple, I just did it casually. I haven't put much effort into other dishes, but if I really wanted to, they wouldn't be too bad..."

"Hmm." Zheng Yi nodded, and was about to offer to help again, but no one responded.

He looked down and saw that Yugi's body was no longer moving. Her arms, which were wrapped around her knees, hung down, one side of her body was snow-white, and the other side was wrapped in gauze, revealing a little bit of dazzling red.

Zheng Yi listened intently, but there was no sound of crying, only soft snoring.

She was so tired that she got up earlier than Zheng Yi in the morning and was still selecting ingredients at noon, without taking a break for a moment.

Hearing Zheng Yi's insincere praise, she felt relieved and fell into a deep sleep.

This is so tiring, it would be better to just rent out the shop!

Zheng Yi sighed. Every family has its own problems, and as an outsider, he shouldn't make assumptions. He figured she must have her reasons for insisting on running this izakaya.

At least for now, he should repay the debt of having his blade stolen.

But why does this remind me of the fairy godmother?

Am I the Snail Boy?

Zheng Yi shook his head, banishing the absurd idea from his mind, and picked up Youji.

His body was very light and soft. Even with his current physique, he managed to carry him up to the fourth floor, only to find that the guy's room was locked. He wondered who he was keeping an eye on.

Zheng Yi had no choice but to order Che Ye to get a mattress, and then placed the girl, who was sleeping like a dead pig, on the ground in front of the door.

Calling her a pig wouldn't be accurate either; she can sleep as soundly as a pig, but she can't be as happy as a pig.

Her head drooped, her brows furrowed slightly, and her lips pursed, still looking preoccupied.

After sitting on the stairs catching his breath for a while, Zheng Yi staggered downstairs, hung the apron around his neck. It was a bit tight and a bit short, making it look like a bellyband when he wore it.

He didn't pay any attention and continued preparing the dishes, intending to resolve Yuji's worries with practical actions.

Today, the wave of food industrialization is sweeping the globe, especially in Japan, the country that invented instant noodles.

Apart from a few high-end izakayas, most restaurants don't actually have many ready-made dishes.

These generals and immortals are all hype, far outweighing the reality.

For nationwide chain stores like Shirokiya and Isomaru, 70% to 90% of their dishes are delivered frozen from a central kitchen: appetizers, fried dishes, simmered dishes, grilled eel, oden, and pickled vegetables are all finished products, and the kitchen only heats and re-frys them; only freshly grilled yakitori and freshly cut sashimi are processed on-site.

Family-run restaurants like Ichishin Izakaya rely on pre-made meal kits for over 90% of their side dishes, fried foods, and stews due to limited staff and small kitchens. Only a few specialty dishes, signature grilled skewers, and seasonal fresh fish are made to order.

But it is precisely because of this that the unique dishes are the soul of an izakaya.

Isshin Izakaya has always been soulless.

Zheng Yi didn't expect to be able to turn the tide; he just wanted to do his best.

Even poor kids know how to cook. Although he didn't have any special talent, Zheng Yi believed that his cooking was much better than Youji's poisonous dishes.

What's more, he also has the skills to make roasted and braised dishes given by the game.

But, does Naha sell donkey meat?

I found a local meat wholesaler's business card on the freezer. After making several phone calls, the owners all said they didn't have any in stock.

No one raises donkeys in Okinawa, and locals don't eat them at all. They don't buy them for retail unless they want to wholesale in large quantities. They can airfreight whole pieces of frozen donkey meat from Kyushu to Naha, which costs close to 10,000 yen per kilogram, including cold chain costs.

Having received a million yen in side money from the young lady of headquarters, Zheng Yi is now quite well-off and can accept such a price. However, it's too late for him, so he has to settle for second best.

He learned the skills of making braised meat and donkey meat sandwiches from the game, which were at the level of a master during the Northern Song Dynasty.

In the early Northern Song Dynasty, the glory of the Tang Dynasty had faded, and while Hebei was plagued by constant warfare, urban culture was developing rapidly.

In such a distorted and chaotic world, let alone selling dog meat under the guise of mutton, or passing off horse meat as donkey meat, it's not uncommon to sell human flesh as imitation beef or mutton.

Zheng Yi ordered Kumamoto horse meat and Agu black pig from the food supplier, and without waiting for them to dawdle and send part-time workers to deliver the goods, he sent Cheye Xiaopang to pick them up.

As dusk crept through the wooden windows of the old shops lining the street, the meat finally arrived.

Zheng Yi rolled up his sleeves, and Che Ye, the chubby boy, also wore an apron as a kitchen helper.

Although he is fat, it doesn't mean he has cooking experience; he has always been well protected by his older sister.

Fortunately, now that he has become a vassal, Zheng Yi can not completely control him, but giving him orders and making him his subordinate is more than enough.

"Now for a news briefing."

On the television that Zheng Yi had specially turned on, the female host of the Okinawa Prefecture local station had a professional and serious expression, but her voice couldn't help but carry a faint hint of laughter.