Translator: 549690339
Qiao Xiaomai listened to Qiao Changshun’s praises of her cooking skills without expression, stuffing Milk Steamed Bun into her mouth and staying silent till the end of breakfast, without uttering a single word.
Tong Sanlang, who had finished his breakfast, had quietly eaten two bowls of tofu pudding amidst Qiao Changshun’s ceaseless prattling.
He also tried a few bites of tofu skin, a look of surprise flashing across his deep dark eyes.
He had mentioned last night that Qiao Xiaomai must have other ways of making money. He just hadn’t expected to witness it this very morning.
After Qiao Changshun finished speaking, he swept his gaze over her pretty face, his lips curling into a small smile, “Knowing Miss Qiao’s culinary skills, I’ve decided to let her take care of our grandfather’s sixtieth birthday celebration.”
“Rest assured, the dishes she makes will definitely satisfy everyone.” Changshun patted his chest in guarantee.
“Let’s discuss the dishes later.”
“Alright, let Dami clean up the pots, you two should go out and make your plans.”
Tong Sanlang turned towards Qiao Xiaomai, “Miss Qiao, shall we go out and have a chat?”
Qiao Xiaomai nodded and stood up, leaving the kitchen.
There was a willow tree in the Qiao Family’s courtyard which was already sprouting green leaves. Under the swaying shadow of the willow tree, Qiao Xiaomai and Tong Sanlang sat with a small wooden table beside them.
Tong Sanlang pulled out a sheet of paper from his chest with a finger length charcoal stick, “Miss Qiao, this is the menu I’ve planned.”
“I can’t read.” Qiao Xiaomai’s eyes swept across the paper once and shook her head.
“How did you memorize all the different dishes before?” Tong Sanlang asked.
“I remember them in my head.” Qiao Xiaomai pointed to her head casually.
Tong Sanlang chuckled, “Should I read it out for you?”
“Sure.” Qiao Xiaomai nodded.
“Since it’s a sixtieth birthday celebration, my grandfather and I decided on six cold dishes, six hot dishes, and six desserts or soups to make a total of eighteen dishes,” Tong Sanlang started. His dulcet, magnetic voice detailed each dish patiently.
“The first cold dish is the Cold Mixed Cucumber.” Tong Sanlang pointed to the words ‘Cold Mixed Cucumber’ with his charcoal stick.
Qiao Xiaomai responded affirmatively, her gaze also landing on the paper.
Her illiteracy was a pretense. Tong Sanlang wouldn’t leave this menu behind, so she needed to take a longer look to commit it to memory.
However, as a literate person, she had already skimmed through the entire menu by the time Tong Sanlang’s charcoal was still pointing to the Cold Mixed Cucumber.
All eighteen dishes were something she knew how to cook.
Relieved, Xiaomai returned her gaze to the Cold Mixed Cucumber.
“The second dish is the Cold Mixed Radish Strips. The radishes were planted last year, but we still have some stored in our cellar, which should be enough for the banquet,” Tong Sanlang continued.
Qiao Xiaomai nodded. The rightful source is novel·fire·net
“Oh, right, the radishes need to be stir fried with Pork Belly,” Tong Sanlang added.
Qiao Xiaomai simply responded, and her gaze involuntarily moved downward, sweeping over the Radish with Pork Belly in hot dishes, and Radish with Stewed Ribs in the soup category. She then quickly scanned through the remaining soups on the menu.
Tong Sanlang noticed her small movement.
She does know how to read after all.
Considering that she could conjure up such a beautiful knife and unearthed unheard of plants, it made sense that a person with such magical abilities would indeed know how to read.
Now that his suspicions were confirmed, Tong Sanlang didn’t bother to test her further. However, in order to extend their interaction, he patiently read out all the dishes on the menu.
After he finished, he concluded, “Of course, this is just what I’ve prepared. We’ll be slaughtering three pigs for the celebration. If you have any signature dishes in mind, feel free to make them..”