Chapter 116: Star Lord

“Oh my goodness, no way!” Chen Feng stared dumbfounded at the middle-aged man before him.

Could it really be Stephen Chow?

Stephen Chow participating in this show?

Chen Feng was surprised. From what he knew, Stephen Chow never took part in such entertainment programs. Why was he here now?

Liu Kaifeng’s eyes widened in disbelief at the scene before him. Lin Suxin, despite having countless fans, paled in comparison to Stephen Chow, who embodied an entire era’s memories. Even though Chow no longer made many films, he remained a household name. Against him, Lin Suxin was insignificant.

In that moment, Liu Kaifeng felt his face burn fiercely, as if slapped brutally—almost knocked to the ground. He had just been threatening Chen Feng, and now Stephen Chow had stepped in to back him up.

Damn it! How had he missed this news before?

Xiao Yu cast a disdainful glance at Liu Kaifeng, who instantly felt the scorn. Clenching his fists, he wanted to leave but forced himself to stay.

Xiao Yu, however, walked over to Stephen Chow with a poised smile, extending her right hand politely. “Mr. Chow, hello!”

“Director Xiao!” Stephen Chow shook her hand with a smile. They exchanged a glance, then Xiao Yu patted Chen Feng on the shoulder and said warmly, “Mr. Zhou, this is the friend I told you about—Chen Feng.”

“Hello, Stephen Chow!” Chen Feng recovered from his initial shock and extended his right hand. Though he had grown up watching Chow’s films, he wasn’t overly excited. After all, he had met him countless times through the system.

Stephen Chow smiled and shook Chen Feng’s hand, looking at him with interest. Then, curiously, he asked, “That bursting, juicy beef ball… did you really make it?”

“Uh…” Chen Feng hadn’t expected Stephen Chow to ask that openly. Hesitating briefly, he nodded, “Yes, I did!”

Xiao Yu smiled and said, “Mr. Zhou, Chen Feng, this isn’t the place to talk. Let’s find somewhere else.”

“Sure!” Stephen Chow smiled.

Chen Feng had no objections, and the three left the hall together. Watching them go, Liu Kaifeng’s face twisted in fury. “Chen Feng, Xiao Yu, just wait. Soon, I’ll ruin you both. Especially you, Xiao Yu—I’ll make countless men utterly destroy you!”

After leaving the registration area, Xiao Yu didn’t head to a hotel but took them directly to her private residence.

“Can this really be done?”

In the kitchen, Stephen Chow was like a curious child, watching the bursting, juicy beef balls dropping continuously. They were all made by Chen Feng, and Xiao Yu had kept plenty.

“Yep,” Chen Feng nodded, looking at Stephen Chow. “I figured it out myself after watching your movies.”

“Damn!” Stephen Chow swore under his breath, then smiled wryly. “Honestly, I never thought of it myself; I was just guessing back then. But you actually made it! Chen Feng, you’re truly a genius.”

Chen Feng smiled lightly and said, “Not really. Stephen, why don’t you chat with Sister Xiao for a bit? I’ll start cooking.”

“No need, no need. I want to watch you!” Stephen Chow’s eyes widened. “I really want to see your skills.”

Uh…

Chen Feng scratched his nose. He’d heard rumors online that Stephen Chow wasn’t very adept at social niceties, more of an artistic soul. Now, it seemed there was some truth to that.

“All right.” Chen Feng didn’t refuse and began lighting the stove skillfully. Xiao Yu’s private home was fully stocked, so he didn’t have to worry about ingredients. He quickly got to work.

With a flash of the knife, Chen Feng peeled a potato swiftly and sliced it into thin strands. Stephen Chow was amazed to see each potato shred was as thin as a hair, all nearly identical in size.

Stephen Chow had seen many cooks, but Chen Feng’s cooking had an elegant, artistic flair.

Chen Feng felt a strange sensation himself. Having extracted the Chef Grandmaster’s abilities from Stephen Chow, and now displaying such skills before him—it was quite surreal.

In no time, Chen Feng had prepared seven or eight dishes, all piping hot, managing them all alone with ease.

At the dining table, Stephen Chow lost all elegance, devouring the food ravenously. Chen Feng was shocked, wondering if this was really the Stephen Chow he knew.

“Chen Feng, you’re incredible!” Stephen Chow praised him. “I never imagined your dishes would taste this good.”

“Thanks, Stephen!” Chen Feng smiled.

“Chen Feng, I’m even thinking of remaking ‘The God of Cookery’!” Stephen Chow sighed seriously. “Would you be interested in a cameo?”

“A cameo?” Chen Feng was stunned but an idea sparked in his mind. Maybe he could become an actor. If he could gather a fanbase, his achievement points would soar.

As for acting skills, that was easy—just extract them from a few award-winning actors.

But thinking further, Stephen Chow hadn’t made many films in recent years. Since 2000, he’d only done a handful: “Shaolin Soccer” in 2001, then “Kung Fu Hustle” three years later, followed by “CJ7” after four years, and “Journey to the West: Conquering the Demons” another four years later. Then he stopped acting, waiting three more years for “The Mermaid.” If “The God of Cookery” were remade, Chen Feng might have to wait until 2020.

Besides, Chen Feng had no plans to push into the entertainment industry. Though becoming a mega-star could bring huge achievement points, his every word and move would be under public scrutiny, leaving him no personal freedom.

“I’ll think about it,” Chen Feng smiled at Stephen Chow. “Actually, I don’t aspire to be an actor.”

Stephen Chow didn’t press further. The thought lingered briefly in his mind, but he hadn’t given it much more consideration.

After lunch, the three chatted a while longer. Chen Feng learned that Stephen Chow had become the spokesman for the bursting, juicy beef balls. They even discussed how to shoot commercials. After two hours, Stephen Chow got up to leave, heading to discuss the next arrangements with the show’s producers.

“Sister Xiao, you’re amazing to have brought Stephen Chow here!” Chen Feng was impressed. “I thought he never joined such entertainment shows.”

“You’re wrong,” Xiao Yu smiled at Chen Feng. “It wasn’t me who convinced him; it was you. I know him, but we’re not that close. I just gave him a sample of your bursting, juicy beef balls, and he accepted the invitation on his own.”

Chen Feng stared at Xiao Yu in disbelief. “That’s possible?”

“Of course!” Xiao Yu smiled. “Little brother, do you know how much it would cost to have Stephen Chow advertise for us?”

“I don’t,” Chen Feng laughed helplessly. “But with his status, the fee must be huge.”

“You’re wrong. We only need to provide Stephen Chow with a certain amount of bursting, juicy beef balls every month,” Xiao Yu said with a smile. “He doesn’t care about the advertising fee—provided the beef balls are made by you!”

Chen Feng’s eyes widened. “Every month? How many could Stephen Chow eat? The cost wouldn’t even reach a thousand yuan. He’s not even taking a fee? That’s crazy!”

Thinking about it, Chen Feng shook his head. He didn’t need to make them personally anymore. While at home, under the pretense of teaching his parents, he had already passed on the Chef Grandmaster skills and various heavenly recipes to them.

Though they were shocked by how quickly he learned, they eventually accepted it calmly. Even without Chen Feng, they could cook all kinds of delicacies.

Chen Feng exhaled lightly and continued, “I’m really impressed.”

Xiao Yu giggled, looking at Chen Feng. “Enough thinking. You’re definitely taking the championship this time. Also, I intend to make the Liu Group suffer a serious defeat.”

(Yesterday was amazing, a red-hot post. Today’s the third update. Also, a small plea for monthly votes—just forty more, and I’ll keep updating. As always, if ‘Tokyo Taoist’ breaks through, I’ll fight to update five times a day!)

(To be continued…)