If you die, I will be able to inherit your cultivation.

The young lady herself is someone who can stand up to a pile of dead bodies with a sword, so it's no wonder she can't stand seeing her subordinates so cowardly.

Having Dongmei train him has a very clear meaning:

Next time something happens, don't embarrass her again.

The reward and punishment system is clearly and logically arranged.

Zhou Ming pondered this "favor" in his heart, feeling both amused and exasperated.

The kitchen manager's and Dongmei's special training—combined, they sound exactly like something a young lady would say:

I'll reward you for your good deeds, but don't get too cocky. You'll get a good beating for what you deserve.

However, for Zhou Ming, the job of kitchen manager came at just the right time.

The incident involving Zhu Zi just broke out this morning, and the manor is bound to be in chaos for the next few days. Everyone's attention is focused on the kitchen.

He has now been promoted to the position of kitchen manager, which is equivalent to the young lady personally stamping him as "one of her own," making it difficult for others to trace him even if they investigate.

He had to accept the young lady's arrangement.

"Manager Zhou,"

Dongmei's voice suddenly rang in his ears. He didn't know when he had quietly walked up behind Zhou Ming.

"The young lady has already gone far away, what are you still standing there for?"

Zhou Ming came to his senses and saw Su Mingyue's figure, surrounded by maids and servants, passing through the hanging flower gate and heading towards the main courtyard.

He turned his head and met Dongmei's face, which had a half-smile.

"Sister Dongmei," Zhou Ming quickly bowed, "I hope you'll show mercy in the future..."

"Have mercy?" Dongmei looked him up and down, her gaze lingering on his thin, bony frame for a couple of seconds.

"The young lady said to train hard. I'll go to the training ground and wait for you. After you finish in the kitchen, come find me there. Don't dawdle. If you dare to dawdle, hmph..." After saying that, she clenched her fist at Zhou Ming and then turned and left.

Zhou Ming stood there, watching Dongmei's retreating figure, and took a deep breath.

He didn't know what Dongmei's "training" specifically meant, but he had a bad feeling.

He had witnessed Dongmei's fighting prowess, one of the four head maids.

Zhou Ming thought that after today, he probably wouldn't have a single good piece of flesh left on his body.

He strode toward the kitchen; it was his first day on the job, and he couldn't be late.

Zhou Ming stepped into the kitchen.

As soon as you step across the threshold, a wave of heat mixed with the smell of grease, wood smoke, and raw meat hits you.

The fire in the stove was burning brightly, and steam was billowing from the three large pots at the same time.

The clanging of the spatula against the iron pot and the thud of the cleaver hitting the cutting board mingled together, making one's eardrums buzz.

Everyone in the kitchen had already received the news. When they saw him walk in, whether it was the head chef or the handyman squatting in the corner picking vegetables, they all put down their work, turned around, and bowed.

"Manager Zhou."

The voices of about twenty people were mixed together, not exactly in unison, but their respectful demeanor was undeniable.

Zhou Ming glanced at them. The ten cooks stood at the front, mostly strong men in their thirties or forties, with broad shoulders and thick waists. Their aprons were stained with oil, and their sleeves were rolled up to their elbows, revealing arms splattered with hot oil.

The one at the front was the oldest, around fifty years old, with gray hair.

With three sparse tufts of goatee and a faded blue apron tied around his waist, he stood out as exceptionally clean among the greasy cooks.

Ten third-class servants, mostly young men in their teens and twenties, stood behind the cooks, with two slightly older ones.

They bowed their heads even lower than the cooks, with some almost burying their heads in their chests.

Zhou Ming observed this scene but remained expressionless.

He had seen similar scenes in his previous life: those with seniority stood at the front, while those with less seniority huddled at the back. You could tell who was in which position at a glance.

Zhou Ming paused for a moment, suppressing the fleeting feeling of "rising to the top in one step," before speaking his first words.

"Stand up, all of you. Introduce yourselves." He turned to the old cook with the goatee. "You start."

"The old man's surname is Liu, and everyone calls me Liu the Three-Cut. I've been cooking in the kitchen for thirty years."

The goatee-bearded old cook straightened up, his voice neither too loud nor too soft, yet exuding a sense of composure.

"I know a little bit about cooking, whether it's frying, stir-frying, steaming, boiling, braising, or stewing."

"I've always cooked for the young lady myself since she was little, and she won't like it if someone else cooks for her."

He spoke calmly, without the arrogance of someone who takes advantage of their seniority, nor the servility of someone trying to curry favor with the new manager; he was simply stating a fact.

Zhou Ming nodded, mentally labeling Liu Sandao as follows:

He's the true anchor of the kitchen, the young lady's personal chef; no one can touch him.

Next, the nine cooks announced their names in turn. Some specialized in making noodles and pastries, some were in charge of stewing soup, and some were in charge of feeding the servants with large pot dishes. Each had their own duties and clear division of labor.

The ten servants who did odd jobs also gave their names, and Zhou Ming wrote them down one by one without saying anything more.

"Alright, everyone get back to work." Zhou Ming waved his hand, and everyone dispersed, returning to their respective posts.

The kitchen returned to its bustling, lively atmosphere, but everyone kept glancing in his direction.

Clearly, everyone is waiting to see where this new manager's initial moves will go.

Zhou Ming did not rush to start a fire.

He strolled around the kitchen slowly, examining the stove, cutting board, water tank, spice rack, and ingredient cabinet.

As he looked around, he made mental notes in his notebook, and at each place he visited, he would casually ask a question or two:

Which cabinet should I put the rice and noodles in?

Where do you put oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar?

How often should the firewood be replenished?

Who is responsible for fetching water?

The questions weren't many, but they precisely covered the most crucial aspects of kitchen operation.

Liu Sandao followed half an arm's length behind him, answering whatever Zhou Ming asked, his tone always neither humble nor arrogant.

After making the rounds, Zhou Ming had a general understanding of how the Haitangyuan kitchen operated.

The tasks these twenty people had to do each day were far more complicated than he had originally thought.

The first and foremost thing is the young lady's three meals a day.

Liu Sandao personally took charge of Su Mingyue's meals, ensuring that she had at least eight dishes and two soups for three meals a day.

The dishes are different every three days, with carefully selected ingredients and precise cooking techniques.

This is the kitchen's highest priority; everything else has to give way to it.

If the young lady had a poor appetite and ate less, Liu Sandao would frown and ponder for an entire afternoon, trying to come up with a way to replace the dishes.

Next was the food for the head maids and stewards.

There are four head maids, six head maids, and six head servants in the Begonia Garden.

Including the commander of the guards and some special personnel, there were about twenty people in total.

Their meals are prepared by the pastry chef and the soup chef. Each meal consists of three dishes and a soup. The dishes are simple and have little oil, but fortunately, they are cooked separately, so the ingredients are fresh and the portions are generous.

Next are the meals for ordinary guards and second-class servants.

There were about seventy people in the group, and their meals were all prepared by the cook who supplied the servants' food.

Each meal consists of one dish, with the staple food being coarse flour buns or multigrain pancakes, occasionally supplemented with a stew or a large pot of stew.

The dish was simple: a handful of salt in water, some vegetable leaves, and it barely had a salty taste.

The lowest level were the third-class servants, whose food was different from that of the second-class servants and guards. They ate coarse grain buns with a dish of pickled vegetable dumplings and a bowl of thin soup with a few vegetable leaves floating on top.

Being able to eat something hot is already a good thing; don't even think about getting anything oily or greasy.