Chapter 23: The First Live Stream: Red-Braised Abalone

As mentioned before, Zeng Yan’s culinary skills came from her grandfather, the Shandong cuisine master, Zeng Fuming. The Zeng family had a rich culinary history; an ancestor was the head chef of Cui Xing Restaurant, one of the eight most famous restaurants in Beijing, and was a master of the Fushan style of Shandong cuisine. By a twist of fate, after her time travel, Zeng Yan had returned to her ancestral home.

As his granddaughter and star pupil, Zeng Yan had surpassed him, excelling in every aspect of cooking. Unlike the Jinan style of western Shandong, the Jiaodong style of Shandong cuisine was skilled at preparing seafood. Back on her native soil, Zeng Yan decided to make a local dish. With the ingredients she had on hand, her first live stream was to teach everyone how to make red-braised abalone.

Zeng, the mini-chef, was impulsive. She didn’t give any advance notice; she just started the live stream. A quick glance at the top right corner showed only five viewers, but she didn’t care. She began cleaning the abalone with seawater, unhurriedly explaining which parts were edible and which were not.

The loyalty of her followers became evident. In less than ten minutes, the number of viewers surpassed a hundred and was still rising rapidly. The top donor appeared—a fan named “Grandpa in Winter” who gifted a “Carnival”—and the second and third top donors also showed up. In no time, the total amount of donations exceeded 10,000 yuan.

The comments were too numerous to read, but most of them were repetitive.

“Big Boss, did you really time travel?”

“Big Boss, did you get a system with you when you traveled?”

“Big Boss, can you share some of your time-travel experience? I’m done with my life and want to go somewhere else, too.”

Zeng Yan laughed in annoyance at the last question. If she had a choice, who would want to stay in this terrible place?

“To the person who asked that, I’ll advise you from my own experience: time travel is risky, so choose carefully. You might not travel to the late ’60s; you might end up as a pig.”

The moment Zeng Yan said that, the comments were flooded with laughter.

Cooking outside wasn’t ideal. After cleaning the abalone, she started walking toward her house, and the viewers saw what she saw: overgrown weeds and desolation everywhere. The same fans who had just been envious of her endless supply of seafood now felt sorry for her.

“Big Boss, does the place you live in get haunted at night?”

“Oh my gosh, I think I just saw a snake flash through the grass.”

“Big Boss’s little house is so tiny, and it doesn’t even have a screen door. Won’t you get bitten to death by mosquitoes?”

“You should look up epidemic encephalitis.”

“I was wrong. I don’t want to travel anymore. Isn’t an air-conditioned room a hundred times better?”

Zeng Yan didn’t want to show the viewers her personal space, so she chose to cook the abalone in the yard. The viewers assumed her modern items were in a “system inventory,” and some fans who read novels even explained the concept and functions of a system to those who didn’t. Zeng Yan didn’t bother to correct them. She prepared the ingredients for the dish and began her lesson.

“Sea urchin is most delicious when eaten raw, but if you don’t like raw food, you can steam it with eggs or serve it with rice. The preparation is simple enough for anyone to do. Abalone is different. It has a sweet and neutral taste and is perfect for absorbing flavors. Today, I’ll teach you one of the signature dishes of Jiaodong-style Shandong cuisine: red-braised abalone.”

A true master’s skills were immediately obvious. Zeng Yan scored a crosshatch pattern on the surface of the blanched abalone. Each cut was evenly spaced, creating a perfect diamond pattern. Her sweet voice paired with her cool, aloof tone created a stark contrast that the commenters found endearing.

“Big Boss is so cool, insulting us with our clumsy hands. I’ll bet a hundred horse-dung sea urchins that the boss was a master chef before time traveling.”

“The boss’s eyes are a ruler. That kind of knife skill takes decades of experience to achieve. I’ll bet a thousand abalones that the boss was a culinary master in their past life.”

“Last week, on the same day the boss’s video appeared, the 85-year-old Cantonese cuisine master, Zhou, passed away…”

“Oh my god, a 15-year-old girl’s body and an 85-year-old man’s soul…”

The comments formed a long chain of ellipses, stretching on and on.

“…”

Can’t a girl just cook in peace?

Zeng Yan’s voice turned chilly. “Auntie who flirts with men, I’ve got my eye on you. You owe me a thousand abalones, two-head abalones, at that.”

The flirty auntie immediately backed down. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Big Boss. You’re not an old soul in a young body; you’re an invincible young girl. I love you! (heart kiss)”

These netizens were a difficult crowd—slippery and with wildly imaginative minds.

Zeng Yan cleared her throat and continued to explain. “In northern cuisine, ‘braising’ means a cooking method where food, along with its broth, is sealed in an earthenware pot and cooked slowly over low heat until it’s done. To make red-braised abalone, you’ll need a small amount of chicken and pork. You don’t need many other ingredients—just green onion, ginger, soy sauce, and cornstarch, the last two for thickening the sauce. A clay pot is best, but a regular pot will do just fine. This dish is very simple to make.”

Zeng Yan built a small stone stove, lit some firewood, and took out a clay pot from her space. She layered the bottom with pork belly, topped it with the abalone she had scored, and then covered everything with chicken. She crushed the green onions and ginger, added water to the pot, sealed the lid tightly, and brought it to a boil over high heat. Then, she pulled out a few pieces of firewood and let it simmer.

“Alright, the rest is up to time. You can go about your business and come back in an hour. I’ll show you how to finish it with a thickened sauce.” Zeng Yan added a final, maddeningly smug remark, “The truth of cooking is 70% ingredients and 30% technique. As long as you have the heart, anyone can become a master chef.”

Her preachy tone infuriated her fans.

“Big Boss, that’s enough! Do we have good ingredients or good technique?”

“I’m eating processed foods and thinking of all the deliciousness I’m missing. My mouth is watering with envy.”

“I want to jump through the screen and eat the food the boss makes.”

Hmm, that’s right. The principle of delivery is the same as food delivery. Can I send out the food I cook?

The answer was yes.

Zeng Yan successfully sent a portion of the braised abalone to the top donor, Boss Li, who had been the first to order sea urchins the day before. With the system by her side, Zeng Yan was once again the same kind and generous sister who loved to treat people to good food.