First Battlefield Commander! - Chapter 113

Chapter 113: Ordering Food

Zhao Zhuoluo and his father followed behind them.

Fang Jianchen immediately retracted his exaggerated gestures upon seeing them, putting on a respectful smile: "Hello, Uncle."

Zhao's father chuckled: "Hello."

He carried the stern aura of a long-time soldier, though today he had consciously toned it down with his smile, making it less noticeable.

Zhao's father stopped before them—he didn't recognize any of them: "You all..."

The group collectively raised their hands, indicating they were together.

The five from Hundred Meter Flying Dagger's studio, Zhao Zhuoluo's three roommates, plus Lu Mingyuan.

The central area was still restricted. To exit, they had to go to a side entrance to swipe their cards through security.

The area was crowded. Lian Sheng followed Zhao Zhuoluo toward the exit while Fang Jianchen and the others moved to the side to regroup.

They successfully reconvened.

Cheng Ze and the others politely greeted: "Hello, Uncle. Happy New Year."

Hundred Meter Flying Dagger shamelessly clasped his hands: "Hello, Uncle. Great fortune in the new year."

Lian Sheng shot him a sidelong glance, exasperated: "Boss, shouldn't you call him 'brother'? 'Uncle' messes up the generational hierarchy."

"What do kids know? A twenty-year age gap is enough for a generational difference. Weren't you called 'auntie' back in high school?" Hundred Meter Flying Dagger clicked his tongue. "I'm still young. Don't you remember we're peers?"

Lu Mingyuan blew into his hands—he felt freezing. He kept sneaking glances at Hundred Meter Flying Dagger. When their eyes met, he nodded shyly.

Hundred Meter Flying Dagger seemed aware Lu Mingyuan was a fan. After all, among data analysis students, at least half were his fans. So he smoothed his hair and gave Lu Mingyuan a friendly smile.

Lian Sheng asked: "Why are you all here?"

This was her first time seeing Hundred Meter Flying Dagger in person. His features weren't much different from his Sanyao avatar.

"Back for New Year's," Hundred Meter Flying Dagger said, slinging an arm over Zhou Shirui's shoulder. "And we got invited to care for 'left-behind children,' so we came together. After all, you're now my studio's star employee. Caring for staff mental health is a boss's duty."

Lian Sheng turned her head away, refusing to engage.

Standing nearby were the two "lightbulbs." Both were burly, though Bright Bulb was taller. In person, their contrasting temperaments were obvious—Bright Bulb was a straightforward, high-combat soldier type, while Super Bright seemed quiet and easygoing.

His height made his build seem proportional alone, but next to Zhou Shirui, he looked nearly twice as wide.

"Boss is treating, couldn't say no," Bright Bulb extended a hand toward her. "First time meeting, hello."

Fang Jianchen had an arm hooked around Zhao Zhuoluo's neck, grumbling quietly while threatening to wipe his snot on him.

Zhao Zhuoluo twisted away with all his might, pulling out his optical computer to plead: "I really couldn't hear! It was too loud inside!"

Fang Jianchen snorted, snot dangling as he retorted: "What? I can't hear you!"

Lian Sheng smacked his forehead and shoved him away. This guy's antics were disgusting!

Lian Sheng asked: "What's next?"

"Dinner," Zhao's father patted her shoulder. "Hungry? You skipped dinner too, right? I booked a unique restaurant nearby. It's about time—let's all head over."

Lu Mingyuan glanced around: "There's so many of us..."

"No problem, I already heard. More people, more fun," Zhao's father was clearly in high spirits, joking: "If there weren't enough people, I'd feel awkward tagging along to a youngsters' gathering. I'll join the fun and foot the bill—mind if I crash?"

The group laughed, insisting they didn't mind while subtly eyeing Zhao Zhuoluo.

Comrade Zhao Youxiu shook his head beside them.

His dad had changed. His entire persona had collapsed. He wasn't like this before.

They couldn't leave Zhao's father alone at home anyway. And Hundred Meter Flying Dagger's group were already working adults—retired soldiers—so the four of them actually had more common topics with him.

The restaurant Zhao's father had booked was indeed famous in the area. When they entered, the place was packed.

A service robot approached and bowed: "Hello, honored guests. We sincerely apologize, but the restaurant is currently at full capacity. Do you have a reservation?"

"Impressive!" Fang Jianchen rubbed his hands, looking around. "My family tried booking here too, but it was too late."

Ye Buqing said: "I tried three months in advance and couldn't get in."

Fang Jianchen: "I tried half a year ahead!"

Lian Sheng looked toward the center and asked: "What's going on over there?"

The restaurant's layout was expansive, with decor making it impossible to see the far end at a glance.

About two hundred meters ahead was an open elevated platform. Someone was performing there, and the restaurant periodically erupted in synchronized applause and cheers.

Fang Jianchen explained: "It's the restaurant's famous live cooking show. Their biggest draw."

In their era, culinary skill wasn't about knife work—no human could compete with machine precision.

No matter how thin, how long, or how intricate the design, machines could execute it flawlessly without waste. Their high precision even allowed repurposing scraps into secondary products.

This advancement eliminated many kitchen apprentice roles and significantly reduced chefs' workloads. Their main tasks became controlling heat and seasoning—subtle factors most casual diners couldn't discern. Some restaurants had automated even those steps.

Machines also enabled faster sterilization and self-cleaning, eliminating contamination risks or unhygienic habits. In many ways, this tech further ensured food safety.

Machine-made food tasted decent, required no salaries, and faced simpler licensing procedures. Combined with the culinary industry's grueling demands, fewer people bothered mastering traditional skills. Those who obtained top-tier chef licenses were usually hired by upscale restaurants as living advertisements. Occasionally, they'd perform live cooking like this—dishes made onstage sold immediately, boosting the restaurant's prestige and diners' engagement.

After being seated at their reserved spot—a massive table—Lian Sheng urged them to pull up the performance projection.

Fang Jianchen fiddled with the controls, and a hologram appeared above the table. A white-clad chef was stir-frying amid leaping flames and sizzling oil, carefully stirring while deftly tossing the wok to ensure even heating.

Since patrons here weren't strapped for cash, their standards for flavor were higher. Only chefs with decades of experience dared take the stage.

Lian Sheng sighed: "Hard for chefs to stand out these days."

Truly, it took ten years to forge a sword—but you never knew if you'd get a blade or a sewing needle.

Cheng Ze said: "Hard to break through, but once you do, you're at the industry's peak. Listen to that crowd."

This restaurant favored interaction, so there were no soundproof partitions. Cheers rose and fell with the flames leaping from the wok.

The projection was so lifelike, the fire seemed to blaze right before their eyes.

The meat's glossy red sauce and vibrant colors, paired with an inexplicably drifting aroma, had everyone clutching their growling stomachs.

While the others watched the show, Lu Mingyuan held the menu, glancing between Zhao's father and Hundred Meter Flying Dagger before smiling awkwardly.

With elders present, even if they wanted to pay, Zhao's father wouldn't allow it. Their large group plus the steep prices made Lu Mingyuan hesitate.

Zhao's father smiled: "Order freely. If you don't pick, we'll get one of everything."

Lu Mingyuan nearly choked.

"Ordering, ordering!" He hastily elbowed Fang Jianchen. "What do you want?"

Fang Jianchen was fixated on the scallion beef stir-fry onscreen, practically drooling.

An announcement sounded:

"Three portions of scallion beef stir-fry, starting at one thousand star coins!"

Fang Jianchen tentatively pressed a button.

"Trying to bid?" Lu Mingyuan said. "You'll need to max the price to get it."

Fang Jianchen stammered: "T-t-too expensive!"

They were a beat too slow—Zhao's father input the max bid but lost to another table.

The auction capped bids at three times the starting price to prevent predatory bidding, judging by price and timing.

Meaning one plate of scallion beef had just sold for three thousand.

Lian Sheng was floored. Were these people insane?

The couple at the next table won. A robot delivered their dish as they cheered and took commemorative photos.

Fang Jianchen watched them, clutching his head.

"If you want it, order it. It's not expensive," Zhao's father said. "Their sauce is a secret recipe—no other place has it. And their beef is premium grade. Three thousand is fair."

Lian Sheng stared at him wide-eyed. Three thousand isn't expensive?!

Lu Mingyuan said: "It's a shame, though. I heard many ancient Chinese seasoning recipes were lost."

You couldn't guarantee your descendants would stay in the culinary trade, and artisans traditionally guarded their secrets. Without sufficient incentive to share, knowledge died with them.

But Lian Sheng had recipes!

She loved bold flavors—anything unpalatable became edible with enough sauce.

Back then, her prestige meant she never stayed long in one place, never switched from military to commerce, and never leaked others' secrets. So when she asked, many shared their proprietary sauce recipes as thanks.

The couple hadn't touched their food yet. Fang Jianchen stared longingly until they glanced over, then covered his face.

Fang Jianchen muttered: "Actually... I don't really like scallions that much."

The group: "..."

The chef finished cooking, wiped his hands, and left the stage.

Lian Sheng: "That's it?"

"Two hours is his limit—he needs a break," Cheng Ze, seemingly familiar with the place, explained: "The next half-hour is for customer attempts. They have multiple free stations with ingredients, but it's public. Watching amateurs fumble is entertaining, if unappetizing."

Lian Sheng stood: "Then don't order. I'll cook for you."

The group was stunned, eyeing her skeptically.

"Lian Sheng," Lu Mingyuan cautioned, "Home cooking and professional cooking are different!"

Fang Jianchen: "Average chefs and master chefs are worlds apart!"

Cheng Ze: "Everyone up there makes a fool of themselves. You ready for that?"

Hundred Meter Flying Dagger: "It's New Year's—let us eat well!"

Zhao's father: "Don't worry about my wallet. Treating youngsters is my pleasure."

Lian Sheng wagged a finger dismissively: "Someone fetch my bag."

"I'll get it," Zhao Zhuoluo stood. "If she wants to try, let her. Today's about having fun."

Many had signed up for the cooking slots. Staff were vetting candidates to minimize risks.

Approaching the group, the staff asked Lian Sheng politely, "Do you have professional cooking experience?"

After some thought, Lian Sheng decided to secure the slot first. She could exaggerate—no harm. Nodding, she declared: "Top-tier chef level."

The group facepalmed.

The staffer was taken aback: "Do you... have certification?"

Lian Sheng: "No."

The staffer eyed her dubiously. Scanning her card revealed she was a Military Academy student—likely trustworthy—so she was cleared.

Lian Sheng rolled up her sleeves and stepped behind the counter, inspecting the ingredients while waiting for Zhao Zhuoluo to bring her bag.

Given the performance format, prep time was limited. Some ingredients were pre-processed—marinated meats, blended meat paste—used just before freshness declined for maximum appeal.

They had nearly everything, yet Lian Sheng recognized less than a third, including unfamiliar produce.

Fruits and vegetables had been selectively bred for improvement. Watermelons, once 90% rind, could now be eaten skin and all. Corn cobs, once sparse, now had negligible cores.

Flavor-wise, they were sweeter and more aromatic, requiring minimal preparation.

But the meat... kept getting worse.

Lian Sheng wiped her hands. This could work.

---

Sorry for the delay; I was just busy with other work and almost forgot about this series. I’ll do my best to keep the updates consistent moving forward.

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