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Help! I'm Just a Chef
墨書 Inktalez
During the busy mealtime, the restaurant's kitchen transformed into a chaotic battlefield. The clattering of pots and pans, the thudding of chopping boards, and the sizzling of stir-frying blended into a cacophony. Chefs darted through the steam and grease, their movements swift and practiced, while new orders poured in like relentless waves—one wave crashing after another. The head chef's hoarse voice stood out amidst the shouts, his words releasing the tension in the kitchen like steam from a pressure cooker.
Amidst this frenzy, Shi Mo felt surprisingly composed. After six months of preparing ingredients, he had finally been promoted to the chopping station and was now enthusiastically handling a pile of carrots.
“Where’s Shi Mo?!” The manager's high-pitched voice sliced through the kitchen noise like a sharp blade, piercing everyone’s eardrums. Startled, Shi Mo accidentally dropped his knife, the sharp edge grazing his finger and drawing blood. Pain made him furrow his brow, but before he could utter a sound, the manager appeared beside him like a gust of wind, dragging him out while loudly calling for someone to replace Shi Mo.
Shi Mo followed behind the manager without a chance to speak, pressing down on his wound in hopes that the manager would notice his injury. However, the manager seemed oblivious as he pulled him to the door of the boss's office and unceremoniously shoved him inside.
The office was lavishly decorated and exquisitely designed, starkly contrasting with the kitchen's clamor. The boss, a burly man, sat in a large office chair, puffing on a cigar. Upon seeing Shi Mo enter, he squinted his eyes into slits with a smile and offered the moist cigar toward Shi Mo’s mouth, rasping, “Little brother, I’ve got some good news for you today.”
Shi Mo was bewildered and asked what this good news was. The boss pulled out a contract from his drawer and hurriedly flipped to the signature page, pointing at the blank space. “Our restaurant collaborates with many outside businesses. You’ve been here for over a year and have learned quite well. This opportunity for an external assignment is yours! Sign it now, and you can start working there tomorrow. It’s a great place with a salary three to four times higher than this.”
Shi Mo was even more confused. Ignoring his injury, he stepped forward to grab the contract. His fingers were smeared with blood, leaving a glaring mark on the white paper; yet his focus remained on the contract's content, oblivious to the glint of cunning in the boss’s eyes.
The contract appeared legitimate; it required him to cook at a private establishment, but details about salary and other conditions would only be provided after signing following training. Shi Mo had never been particularly bright in school; faced with such professional jargon, his head began to throb. He looked skeptically at the boss and asked why there was no salary figure stated in the contract.
“Ah.” The boss tossed his cigar onto the table and leaned closer to wrap an arm around Shi Mo’s shoulders, revealing his displeasure at Shi Mo’s skepticism. “Little brother, your suspicion makes things difficult for me. Let me be honest; this job lasts at most a year. If you don’t like it there, you can always come back—this place will always be your stronghold. If you find anything wrong with the contract, just hold off on signing it for now; go listen to what they have to say tomorrow before deciding whether or not to sign. A man shouldn’t pass up on making money.”
The boss’s coaxing words stirred something within Shi Mo. He glanced down at one corner of the contract stained red with blood; after a brief internal struggle lasting only seconds, he nodded in agreement. “Alright. But boss, what about this month’s salary…” He looked at the boss who typically delayed payments until month-end but seemed unusually generous now.
“Pay! Right now!” The boss replied as he returned to his desk and pulled out a thick stack of cash from his wallet, counting out thirty bills that were dampened with saliva before handing them to Shi Mo. “We can’t let our brothers suffer unfair treatment. Be at the talent market by eight tomorrow morning; look for a black sedan with wings painted on its doors at entrance three—just show them this contract.”
Shi Mo clutched the contract and money as he stood bewildered at the office door. A cold breeze sent shivers down his spine as he began to realize something was amiss. How had he agreed to this so-called "external assignment"? Moreover, what kind of restaurant sends its cooks away? A new contract? A new kitchen? And they had settled this month’s salary—wasn’t this just firing him?
Wanting clarification before leaving, he turned only to see the boss hastily walking away with his bag in hand. Watching that hefty figure retreat left Shi Mo feeling both confused and angry; he decided not to stay any longer since a new job awaited him—if it didn’t work out there, he could always start fresh elsewhere.
As he stepped outside in low spirits, Shi Mo spotted the boss's wife sitting behind the counter. Upon seeing him clutching the contract, she stood up as if wanting to say something but hesitated before sitting back down without another glance at him. Typically kind towards workers like them, Shi Mo thought it best not to lose courtesy and walked over to say goodbye.
Hearing his voice made her visibly tense; she glanced at the surveillance camera before shifting her body into a corner where she was out of sight from it and whispered back to him: “Be careful.”
"Ah?" Shi Mo didn't understand her meaning. He intended to ask further, but was interrupted by the sudden appearance of the manager. The man hurriedly approached them and, in an awkward tone, told the boss's wife that the boss was waiting for her and urged her to go quickly. He then turned to Shi Mo with a feigned smile and said, "The boss has settled your wages, right?"
"Yes," Shi Mo nodded.
"That's good. Wow, lucky you! Don't forget your brothers when you get rich. I have other matters to attend to, so I’ll be off," the manager said before hastily leaving, jogging into the kitchen and disappearing from sight.
Shi Mo was left even more confused by this strange exchange as he left the place where he had worked for a year, his mind filled with questions.
His rental apartment was quite a distance from work, requiring a bus ride that involved crossing ten stops. Each time he swayed back home on the bus, it took at least half an hour. During this peak commuting hour, he sat in the back of the bus, witnessing countless hurried figures—some carrying heavy backpacks, others dressed in fine clothes—gripping the handrails tightly while simultaneously busy on their phones. This scene gave Shi Mo a surreal feeling, as if he were part of a fast-paced urban movie.
Shi Mo's educational background was not impressive; he barely managed to obtain a diploma from a vocational school. After graduation, he didn't want to look for a job related to his field of study; instead, driven by his passion for cooking, he went straight to work in a restaurant. From washing dishes and vegetables to preparing ingredients, he struggled through at least two restaurants over three years until he finally landed a position as a prep cook here about a year ago. Although the work was tough, he learned a lot—especially from the temperamental yet skilled Head Chef, who attracted half of the restaurant's customers with his culinary skills.
Shi Mo had hoped to work here for a long time, but before he could even get accustomed to his new cutting board, he was "assigned" to some strange place he had never even heard of. When he got off the bus, rain began to pour from an uncooperative sky, forcing him to run back to his rental apartment in the downpour.
His home was in an old community surrounded by shops that were about to close down. It was near a village where locals rarely ventured into town, and city dwellers looked down on it. The residents here were all desperately trying to escape to the city. Over time, only some elderly people remained who couldn't bear to leave. For Shi Mo, the downside of living here was its distance from work; however, the upside was that rent and other living costs were very low.
As he ran into the community, an elderly man in the dilapidated security booth called out to Shi Mo and handed him a cardboard box, saying it was his package. Shi Mo held the box and confirmed several times that the recipient was indeed himself; however, he hadn't ordered anything online recently nor had anyone mentioned sending something his way. What could it be?
After thanking the old man, Shi Mo went upstairs and gently shook the box in an attempt to discern its contents. A clattering sound came from inside—like a small object that wasn't tightly packed and rolled around as he moved it. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a cut on his hand; the wound had closed under pressure and most of the blood had been wiped away, leaving only pain behind.
The events of today had been too strange. Shi Mo couldn't help but let out a long sigh in an attempt to alleviate his frustration. He opened his door and stepped inside, collapsing onto the sofa without wanting to move again. The contract in his pocket had gotten wet from the rain and was slightly wrinkled; he pulled it out and unfolded it before tossing it onto the coffee table. As he stared at the bold text on it, feelings of frustration surged once more.
Recalling his boss's impassioned speech earlier made him think it was good news at first; however, upon reflection with a calmer mind, it became clear that this was merely masking a hidden agenda aimed at deceiving someone like him who hadn’t received much education. Why mention some job market with winged cars? Why not just take him away in a van to some remote area to feed pigs?
While lost in thought and sighing again, his phone rang—clearly another inquiry from his mother seeking confirmation about something. As soon as he answered, her voice came through with urgency as she asked why he suddenly lost his job again. Feeling embarrassed, Shi Mo licked his lips and recounted what had just happened. There was silence on the other end for so long that he couldn't help but check if there was something wrong with his phone.
"Go ahead," his mother's voice startled him back into focus after what felt like an eternity of silence. "I just asked your grandfather; he said you can go but be careful about your safety since it's unfamiliar territory."
Shi Mo had grown accustomed to his family's superstitious tendencies and didn't ask further questions; instead, he agreed that he'd check out that place tomorrow morning and decide whether or not to stay afterward. Listening to his mother's gentle reminders not to catch cold or anything similar made him feel somewhat better inside. He transferred half of his earnings over so that she and his father could treat his grandparents well without holding back.
“Son, take a good look at that contract. If there’s anything you don’t understand, send it to Xiao Zhi and let him check it for you. Don’t sign it blindly and get taken advantage of,” his father’s voice came through just before the call ended. Shi Mo suddenly remembered his childhood friend. He quickly agreed to do this and snapped a photo of the contract to send to his true brother.
“Bro, can you help me check if there are any pitfalls in this contract? I’m not sure about it,” Shi Mo sent the message and then put down his phone to find something to eat. In the shop, the staff usually avoided meal times and ate around three or four in the afternoon. Normally, they wouldn’t feel hungry at this hour, but now that he had some downtime, he found himself hungrier than when they were busy.
“This contract is missing everything—no name for Party A, no salary, no time limit, just the requirements from Party A. Bro, where did you find this Five Black Company? Aren’t you afraid of getting your liver and heart ripped out?” His friend replied quickly, marking all the unreasonable parts within the time it took to boil instant noodles, along with explanations.
Shi Mo forced down the soup in his mouth and told his friend that this was introduced by his former boss. He decided to talk with them tomorrow morning before making any conclusions.
“Be careful tomorrow. If anything feels off, leave immediately. If something happens, just call me; I can come pick you up.” Hearing this from a friend eased a lot of his unease. After chatting for a bit longer, he told his friend to get back to work and not delay.
After all, he was going to be a chef; what if he ended up being the Head Chef right away? Shi Mo comforted himself like this and decided that after finishing his noodles, he would head into the city to buy a decent outfit for future job interviews.
The back-and-forth took up an entire afternoon. By the time he returned to his rented room with the clothes, it was already dark outside. Exhausted, he slumped onto the sofa and planned to hang up the clothes when he noticed a package lying on the table that he had received earlier in the afternoon. He hadn’t received any calls about a delivery mistake all day, so it seemed this package was indeed meant for him.
He easily tore open the not-so-secure tape inside, revealing a new contract neatly stacked. The contents were largely similar to the one he had brought home but included Party A’s name— Immortal-Retrieving Pavilion —and a note reminding him about an orientation training session tomorrow.
“ Immortal-Retrieving Pavilion?” Shi Mo murmured to himself. The name echoed somewhere in his memory, but no matter how hard he tried to recall specific details, he couldn’t grasp them and ultimately chose to let it go. However, new questions arose: how did this package know where he lived? There was no sender information on it; even if he wanted to check, there was no way to do so. After thinking about where he might have left his address, he concluded it must have been from the restaurant owner.
He took a photo of the new contract and sent it to Xiao Zhi but didn’t receive an immediate reply this time. After washing up, he lay down in bed as drowsiness began to take over. Just as he was about to drift off into sleep, he suddenly remembered where he had heard the name “ Immortal-Retrieving Pavilion ” before. He picked up his phone to search for related information and happened to see a message from Xiao Zhi.
“This place is still open? I thought Uncle Niu Liu would close it down for good once he left.”
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