“Dad, there are so many people!” Lin Qiao swallowed nervously and clung to the sleeve of her father beside her.
Old Lin cleared his throat and said to his daughter, “Stay cool. You’re the daughter of a blogger with three million gold-level followers and a nationally recognized gourmet. Don’t embarrass your old man!”
Lin Qiao rolled her eyes. “Narcissist.”
“In just half a year… who would’ve thought Jiang Ji would blow up like this…” Old Lin sighed, getting a bit sentimental.
Back then, Jiang Ji first gained popularity thanks to a blog post written by Qiao Qiao—yes, Lin Qiao was also a mid-level blogger with over a hundred thousand followers.
Then Old Lin shared it.
Then came a massive wave of online promotion, and Jiang Ji became an overnight sensation.
What kept the hype going was the fact that the owner’s daughter, Jiang Fuyue, was a prodigy who had won gold medals in two academic competitions. That helped the momentum build to what it is today.
It’s safe to say: Jiang Ji’s success is one of a kind.
Remove any piece from the chain and it wouldn’t have worked. Of course, credit also goes to Jiang Da and Han Yunru, the husband-and-wife duo who ran the place with integrity, built a reputation, and perfected the taste.
Cao Dou came out personally to greet them. “Teacher Lin, Little Teacher Lin, your seats are ready—please come in.”
Being suddenly addressed as “Little Teacher Lin” stunned Lin Qiao. Her cheeks flushed, and she blurted out, “I’m not a teacher! I’m a student! Jiang Fuyue and I are classmates!”
“Huh?” Cao Dou was surprised. “What a coincidence!”
Lin Qiao looked around nervously. “Uh… is Jiang Fuyue here today?”
“Yep, she’s already inside.”
Delighted, Lin Qiao quickly tugged her dad along.
Old Lin gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. She can be a bit impulsive sometimes…”
Cao Dou waved it off with a smile and personally led them into the tasting area, seating them at the best table.
Old Lin suddenly sighed and gently patted his daughter’s head. “This little girl’s got even more pull than her dad.”
Lin Qiao gave him a triumphant wink~ Of course! After all, she’s Sister Yue’s deskmate and (self-proclaimed) bestie!
Five or six reporters had arrived, along with cameramen, making for a sizable media crew.
Cao Dou led them to the interview area. Lemon mint tea and a plate of snowflake crisps were served.
Zhang Yuan hadn’t wanted to come today.
She was supposed to cover a celebrity event at Linhuai Wanxiang City. The celeb had been embroiled in a cheating scandal not long ago, and this was their first public appearance in three months.
Those entertainment scoops practically sell themselves. Get a juicy shot, and boom—instant viral content.
So who cared about some restaurant opening?
What was Jiang Ji anyway? Barely counted as an internet-famous spot. Sure, a bit of buzz, but not enough to outshine celebrity drama.
Yet her boss didn’t even ask—just reassigned her to this fluff piece, and gave the celeb gig to an intern.
Ha! Like she didn’t know there was something shady going on between those two.
“Reporter Zhang, you don’t look too well. Didn’t sleep well last night?” a colleague asked with concern.
Zhang Yuan forced a smile. “I’m fine. Might be low blood sugar.”
She hadn’t slept well—she’d been fuming all night.
“Don’t take low blood sugar lightly. You could just drop suddenly. I covered a story last week—an old lady fainted in the middle of the road. Low blood sugar didn’t kill her, but the car that hit her did. She didn’t even make it to the hospital.”
“I’ll be careful, thanks.” But irritation still tugged at Zhang Yuan’s brows.
The noisy crowd, the cramped space, and her overly chatty colleague only worsened her already foul mood.
Frustrated, she grabbed the glass of water nearby and took a huge gulp.
Suddenly, a cool minty aroma filled her mouth, refreshing but not overpowering. It slid down her throat and burst at the crown of her head, like she’d been transported to a mountain spring, her feet in cool stream water, a crisp breeze brushing past.
All the irritation and fatigue—gone. Replaced by peace and clarity.
She let out a long breath, feeling like a flame had been extinguished inside her, replaced by calm.
Staring at the glass in her hand, Zhang Yuan wondered, What is this mint tea?
It was a pale green, with a refreshing scent that lingered even at a distance.
“Tastes good, huh?” Her colleague wiggled her brows. “I’m a die-hard fan of Jiang Ji’s pancakes. I was worried I wouldn’t even get in today. Didn’t expect to get this gig—free food, straight inside. Score!”
She smacked her lips in satisfaction, clearly enjoying herself.
Zhang Yuan gave her a surprised look. “Sister Liang, I thought you were on the social affairs beat? Since when did you care about food reporting?”
“What, social news reporters aren’t human? We need breaks too! Getting an easy, chill gig like this once in a while is a dream.”
Zhang Yuan took another sip. The tea really was comforting—light yet flavorful, cleansing and calming.
“Aren’t you afraid someone else will scoop your story while you’re off?”
“Of course I am! It’s hard as h*ll to land a solid scoop in this field. No one wants to be sidelined.”
Zhang Yuan nodded. That creeping anxiety returned.
So she took another sip.
“But—” Sister Liang suddenly changed tone, “—news never ends. There’s always another story. If you live in constant fear of falling behind, you’ll burn out. Not just from the work itself, but from the pressure you pile on yourself.”
Zhang Yuan fell quiet, thoughtful.
“Sometimes, you’ve got to stop running and take in the scenery. With a journalist’s insight and empathy, you can find beauty in places you didn’t expect.”
Zhang Yuan finally looked around.
Stylish lighting, bright but soft. Bold-colored walls. The hustle and bustle of customers, all different walks of life. It no longer felt so annoying.
Is this… what she meant by surprise?
“Pretty nice, huh?”
“Yeah.” Zhang Yuan nodded—and this time, she meant it. She even smiled.
“Ah—” Suddenly she gasped, clutching her stomach.
“What’s wrong? You okay?”
“Old issue. Skipped breakfast. Now I’ve got a stomachache.”
“Girl! Eat a snowflake crisp. You need sugar!”
“No thanks. I don’t like sweet, greasy stuff. I’ll just drink water.”
“It’s not greasy or overly sweet. Just try it.” Sister Liang unwrapped one and handed it to her.
Zhang Yuan didn’t want to, but couldn’t refuse the kindness. She hesitated, then took a small bite.
And stopped.
Her eyes lit up in surprise, meeting Sister Liang’s knowing smile like she’d predicted this exact reaction.
Zhang Yuan ended up finishing the whole thing. Her empty stomach felt soothed, and the cramping eased.
“This snowflake crisp…”
“Told you! It’s not heavy or overly sugary—has a bit of sweetness, a creamy flavor, and the cranberries give it a nice tang.”
“Yeah! Totally different from the ones I’ve had before.”
Sister Liang smiled. “I don’t eat sweets either. But I make an exception for what the lady boss makes.”
“She made this?!”
“Yup. The snowflake crisp and the mint tea are both her creations.”
Zhang Yuan picked up another, peeled the wrapper, and took a bite, nodding the whole time.
“She must be an amazing pastry chef.”
“Nope,” Sister Liang said, clearly familiar with the shop and the owners. “She only started learning this past year. Before that, she was just helping her husband make pancakes at their food stall.”
“Really? She must be naturally talented.”
Liang smiled. “Maybe beautiful people just have more talent in their hands too.”
Zhang Yuan blinked. “She’s beautiful?”
“Look—there’s a photo on the wall.”
Zhang Yuan followed her gaze—and her eyes widened in shock.
Based on “used to help make pancakes,” she’d imagined a frumpy, hardworking middle-aged woman. Nothing fancy.
But the woman in the photo had not just kindness in her eyes—but an elegant beauty. Striking bone structure, graceful, serene.
Even her kids inherited that stunning gene pool.
“Wait… why does she look so familiar?”
