Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Kitchen God said that the Human World didn’t used to be like this.

In the past, every twenty-third day of the twelfth lunar month, every household would send him off to heaven to report on his duties. They would place candy melons by the stove, so sweet that they would stick his mouth shut, making it impossible for him to say anything bad about them.

Later, everyone moved into high-rise buildings. Kitchens got smaller, and range hoods got bigger. He was squeezed between the gas stove and the microwave like an old employee with no pension.

“I can endure it,” the Kitchen God said, patting his apron. “The Human World is busy. There’s a lot of takeout. Young people don’t know how to cook. But now, she’s even outsourcing her wishes.”

“Outsourcing? How?”

“Before, they prayed for me to bless the pot with food and the home with peace. Now, they pray for me to make their bosses lose their memory, for their exes to go bald, and for weighing scales to be made illegal.”

I nodded as I took notes.

“These requests are indeed quite complex.”

The more the Kitchen God spoke, the more aggrieved he became. “The worst part is that someone stuck my divine image next to an air fryer. The offering was a bag of low-fat chicken breast, and they actually asked me to bless it so it would taste like fried chicken.”

For a moment, I didn’t know whether to console him from the perspective of divine law or food safety regulations.

“Then why do you want to divorce the entire Human World?”

The Kitchen God looked at me, a flicker of orange-red flame sparking in his eyes.

“Because I realized she doesn’t need me anymore. There is no fire in the kitchen, no people at the dining table. New Year’s Eve dinner is done over video calls, and New Year greetings are sent via templates. She is deleting the ‘breath of life’ bit by bit, yet she still wants me to continue being her witness. On what grounds?”

I wanted to say that the subject matter of his case was too large for our window to handle.

But the System wouldn’t let me escape.

Three buttons automatically popped up next to my mouse: [Agree to Divorce], [Mandatory Mediation], [Staff Member Compensates for Emotional Loss].

I stared at the third button, a chill running down my spine.

“What does ‘compensate’ mean?”

The Kitchen God saw it too, and his expression turned kind.

“It means you come to my stove to eat tonight.”

“And then?”

“Eat until I no longer want to divorce.”

I looked down at his attachments.

The menu was ninety-nine pages long, ranging from spicy rice crust to Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, from lard-mixed rice to iron-pot stewed goose. The last page read: *Post-meal heart-to-heart talk; no leaving midway.*

I quickly selected [Mandatory Mediation].

The System let out a “ding.”

Mediation Location: Marriage and Family Counseling Room, 2nd Floor, This Bureau.

Mediation Parties: Kitchen God, Human Agent.

Human Agent: Jiang Mian.

I read it again.

“Why is it still me?”

The Kitchen God chuckled. “Aren’t you the Public Spouse?”

I called the director out.

Director Luo was a woman in her forties, an expert at turning chaotic scenes into organized spreadsheets. She stood behind me and finished reading the screen, her face turning redder than the cover of a marriage certificate.

“Xiao Jiang, the organization believes in you.”

“The organization cannot believe in me like this.”

“This isn’t an ordinary task; this is a city-level emergency.”

“I’m just a temporary hire.”

“A temporary hire is still a hire.”

Director Luo shoved a paper notice into my hand. I unfolded it to see six official seals: Municipal, City God, Meteorological, Landscaping, Funeral, and the Lottery Center.

The content of the notice was blunt: *Due to the city’s Relationship System being in disrepair, Jiang Mian is temporarily designated as the ‘Relationship Mediator,’ responsible for receiving, mediating, and diverting abnormal marriage applications. During this period, a night shift meal allowance will be provided.*

The allowance was twenty yuan.

I pointed at the last line. “One hundred and eight cases, and the meal allowance is only twenty?”

Director Luo said gently, “That’s already after-tax.”

I suddenly understood why the Kitchen God wanted a divorce.

This Human World really was a bit much.

The second-floor counseling room usually held two sofas, a box of tissues, and a sign on the wall saying “Communication is the Bridge of Love.” Today, a bowl of steaming white rice had appeared next to the tissue box.

The Kitchen God sat on the left.

I sat on the right.

The bowl of rice in the middle represented the Human World.

I followed the protocol and spoke. “Both parties shall state their demands first.”

The Kitchen God said, “I want to take away all the ‘breath of life.'”

The rice in the bowl trembled.

A woman’s voice suddenly rang in my head-soft and very tired.

She said, “It’s not that I won’t give it to him. I’m almost out of it myself.”

I froze.

The Kitchen God froze too.

“You can hear her?”

I nodded.

The voice spoke again. “Jiang Mian, don’t let him leave. Tonight, many things will come to leave me.”

I asked, “Who are you?”

The grains of rice in the bowl stood up one by one, forming two words.

*Human World.*