Your stove is not my stove
You are not bad at cooking Chinese food. You were never shown.
You have been cooking it with the wrong rice, the wrong heat, the wrong order, and no one ever told you.
The receipt did not have a line for talent. What it paid for was a cook who velveted the chicken before service, cooked the rice yesterday, dried the noodles on a tray, mixed the sauce in a cup, and then let the pan get hotter than you have ever let yours. Those are decisions, not gifts, and the book gives you seventy two of them by number so that every recipe can point to the ones it needs.
The velvet alone, a baking soda step explained once and used fifty times, is why supermarket chicken thigh and flank steak come out of a restaurant tender and out of your kitchen tough. And when a plate still comes out wrong, every recipe ends with "If yours looks wrong": three or four things with a one-line fix each, and the back of the book has a rescue index of 35 problems sorted by what you see: mushy, gummy, tough, watery, cloudy, bitter, grey.