Super Zoo

```

Hearing is deceptive, seeing is believing, and the meaning behind the words "not bad" is all too rich. When a foreigner like Seibel says "not bad", to ordinary people that translates to a delicacy, a feast for kings. On the other hand, when a beggar says "not bad", even dogs might not touch it. The difference couldn't be more stark.

Nangong had to go to work today, so he left early. Suming took Nangong Huang to the zoo's small kitchen, which had all the necessary pots, pans, and ingredients, allowing him to cook on the spot.

The two aunties in the kitchen beamed with joy when they saw Suming, "Boss, are you here to check on us? Don't worry, ever since you took over, our zoo has never been short on funds, there's always more than enough for the kitchen's budget, and we'll make sure everyone here is well-fed!"

The other aunty eagerly presented a small notebook, its pages filled with writing. She elaborated with detail, "Director, look here, this is the daily detailed purchasing accounts, the menus for the day..."

These two aunties were both in their forties or fifties, coming from rural areas, and they didn't know how to use a computer. Their bookkeeping and menu writing were still firmly in the pen-and-paper era.

Suming wasn't in a hurry to have Nangong Huang cook; he meticulously examined several pages of the accounts, praised the two aunties, and only then explained his purpose for visiting.

"That's great, Director. You're busy, so we'll wait outside. Just call us whenever you need us," they said.

Nangong Huang, holding the small ledger for accounting, flipped through it with obvious boredom and then tossed it aside with disdain on his face, "Brother-in-law, I heard from my sister that you rake in tens of millions a year, do you really care about these few hundred bucks? Isn't that a bit too stingy?"

"It's not a matter of whether I care or not, it's whether these two aunties care," Suming said with a smile and shake of his head. The two aunties were the most grassroots-level employees in the zoo, seldom having the chance to interact with a 'big boss' like him. It was only natural for them to showcase their hard work in his presence when he proactively visited the kitchen.

"I don't get it, explain it to me," said Nangong Huang curiously.

The zoo's finances are managed by professional accountants, so I don't need to worry about that. Besides, I don't dine at this small canteen, so whether I look at these accounts or not doesn't make a difference. However, if I hadn't looked just now, or if I had carelessly glanced over them, it would have dampened their enthusiasm for work," explained Suming.

"Kind of get it, but also not quite," Nangong Huang scratched his head.

"For example, let's say you did something to show off and rushed home excitedly to tell your dad, expecting him to praise you. But after hearing you out, he just gives a nonchalant 'hmm' and then goes off to take a shower. How would you feel?" Suming said, smiling.

"My dad?! He has never praised me in my life!" Nangong Huang stuffed his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans and rocked back and forth, "Though, to be fair, I don't think I've done anything to show off."

"Playing hero to save a damsel in distress is quite the showing-off, but next time pay attention to the approach," Suming patted Nangong Huang's shoulder, "Alright, go cook something for me to try."

"Alright! To be honest, brother-in-law, although I'm not great with theory, my cooking skills are pretty decent." Praised by Suming, Nangong Huang seemed visibly excited, rummaged through the kitchen for a bit, and finally picked out a pork chop and a few slices of ginger.

"Brother-in-law, I'll make sweet and sour pork ribs," he declared.

"Sure," said Suming, nodding. He dragged over a chair, lit a cigarette, and sat down to watch Nangong Huang cook.

Nangong Huang tied on an apron and deftly chopped the pork chop into two-inch pieces to blanch them. He used this time to prep the onion, ginger, and garlic. The whole process looked quite professional. Not bad for a graduate from Dongfang Culinary Training School; he definitely had the bearing of a TV chef.

It seemed that this lad hadn't spent the past few years learning nothing. At least he had mastered the basic skills of a chef. Coming from a family of policemen and choosing to go to culinary school instead of the police academy had its reasons. Apparently, he had a passion for cooking from a young age; it was the only time he could stay focused, while everything else was a passing interest, nothing long-term.

Throughout the cooking process, a cigarette was always dangling from the corner of Nangong Huang's mouth. As the stove below released smoke, his mouth followed suit, ash growing worryingly long. Suming was concerned that it might fall into the pan.

After the final ten minutes of simmering to reduce the sauce, Nangong Huang added a spoonful of vinegar to the wok, snapped the stove off, gave the handle of the wok a flick of his wrist, and plated the sweet and sour pork ribs. He then sprinkled some pre-cut green onions on top and served them to Suming.

"Give it a try, brother-in-law." Nangong Huang handed over a pair of chopsticks from the chopstick container, then wiped his hands on his apron before lighting up another cigarette.

"Looks pretty good!" Suming gave a thumbs-up. The sweet and sour pork ribs steamed invitingly, the aromatic and saccharine scent promising, and the thick sauce combined with the pork ribs, enhanced by flecks of bright green onion, was appetizing to the eye.

Judging by appearance, aroma, and taste, the color and scent were definitely above average and fitting for an ordinary chef.

Suming picked up a piece and put it in his mouth.

The sweet and sour sauce melted on the tongue, begging for a bite of the sauce-covered ribs... And with a bite...

Huh? Hardly able to bite through.

Put in some effort, bite again!

Alright, managed to break through, chewing for a few moments. The ribs were like rubber, stubbornly resisting the assault of the teeth, but in the end, they were no match, defeated in Suming's mouth.

The ribs left their mark of struggle behind... in the interstices of his teeth, stuffed with fibers. In common parlance, they got stuck in his teeth.

```

"How is it, brother-in-law?" Nangong Huang asked.

"Let me try another piece." Suming picked a slightly smaller piece.

It tasted pretty much the same as the last one.

Suming put down his chopsticks and said, "Out of a perfect score of 100 for color, aroma, and flavor, I can give you 80 for color and aroma, but for taste, barely 60." Suming took a toothpick to pick out the meat stuck in his teeth and mumbled, "It's overcooked."

The ribs, well, they weren't bad tasting, just overcooked, which affected the texture. Even Suming could tell, let alone some picky diners. For an average family or a street food stall, it would have been acceptable, but in a legitimate restaurant, customers might not throw their plates, but they wouldn't come back for seconds.

"60 is not bad, it's a pass." Nangong Huang responded nonchalantly, flicking off the cigarette ash, "Anyway, cooking isn't my strong suit."

"Then what is your strong suit?" Suming asked.

As a chef whose strong suit isn't cooking, what could it possibly be?

Could he be that mythical character who sings best among chefs and cooks best among singers?

Nangong Huang stood up, dropped his cigarette butt on the ground, and stamped it out, asking, "Got any booze?"

"Sure do." There were always a few cases of red, white, and beer in the small warehouse behind the kitchen for entertaining clients or staff dinners.

Was this kid's strong suit drinking?

Suming wondered what good deeds he had done in his past life for the heavens to send him such a 'smoking and drinking life' of a brother-in-law.

But what happened next made Suming look at Nangong Huang in a new light! Your adventure continues at My Virtual Library Empire

He selected two types of liquor from the warehouse, a bottle of mineral water, some lemon wedges, and a box of frozen ice cubes. He arranged them neatly on the table and found some tall glasses. After mixing the liquors together in a series of dazzling motions, he ended up with clearly distinguished layers of liquor in the glass. Nangong Huang casually inserted a lemon slice on the rim and pushed the glass toward Suming.

"Are you a mixologist?" Suming, who had never eaten pork but had seen pigs run, knew what Nangong Huang had just been up to.

"I'm self-taught." Nangong Huang said proudly, "I've always wanted to open my own bar, but I don't have the money. My dad won't support me, but brother-in-law, I'm not boasting, my mixing skills are definitely top-notch in our school. Even the famous bartenders in town can't compare to me."

The key to mixology is the technique; the taste isn't that important. Most people, even hardened drinkers, can't really tell if the proportions of various liquors are correct or what the quality of the taste is. Suming was even less able to discern this, but just looking at Nangong Huang's technique alone, which was like performing a magic trick, was quite eye-catching.

Suming hadn't expected this skill from him and considered for a moment, "Here's what we'll do; Whisperwind Pavilion has five floors. The first two floors are the restaurant, and we can convert the third floor into a small bar. I'm hiring you to take charge of this bar."

The kid was quite good-looking and had the Nangong Family genes to show for it. Nangong Huang could hardly be ugly even if he tried. If he took the handsome guy route combined with his decent mixology skills, he could definitely draw in a crowd of young women.

And it was clear that Nangong Huang was interested in this field. When he was preparing the ribs, he was lackadaisical and smoked throughout, but while mixing drinks, he didn't smoke at all and was completely focused on the alcohol, very invested.

Interest is the best teacher. Even someone with no knowledge of mixology could do well if they're interested. And on top of that, his foundation was quite solid already.

Suming rarely went to bars, but he had seen mixologists at work on TV, and Nangong Huang's techniques were certainly no worse than those he had seen on screen.

Hearing that he would manage an entire bar, even a small one, Nangong Huang was ecstatic and exclaimed, "Really?!"

"Of course it's true, but well…" Suming's voice trailed off as he looked at Nangong Huang, tilting his head and scrutinizing him carefully.

"Why are you staring at me like that, brother-in-law?" Nangong Huang felt uneasy under Suming's gaze and swallowed, "You... you're not gay, are you? Trying to seduce me with some unwritten rules?"

"Unwritten rules my foot!" Suming rolled his eyes and pointed at Nangong Huang's multicolored hair, "I'm telling you, if you work, you work hard. Dye that poultry hair back to normal, and those earrings and all, take them off. In short, make yourself presentable. When you're looking like a proper human being, then you can run the bar."

Even for a fashionable place like a bar, Nangong Huang's current look was too much. It wasn't stylish; it was more like the blowouts of the nineties: gaudy and tacky.

"You could have told me sooner, brother-in-law, you scared me there." Nangong Huang let out a sigh of relief, touching his hair with a slightly reluctant expression, and muttered, "Actually, I think I look pretty good like this."

Suming didn't respond and simply walked out of the kitchen, saying indifferently, "It's up to you. Either get yourself together and manage the bar, or just keep this up, and I'll find you another job, as a head chef."