Li Dashao didn’t dare to lift his head. He knelt down and saluted, listening as a lady’s voice rang out.
“I’ve tasted the food you made,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
Li Dashao’s heart tensed up again.
This lady was said to be the younger sister of the bosses. The first time he caught a glimpse of her and the quick peek he stole when she arrived today—if this was really their biological sister, then that would be truly bizarre.
Besides, judging from the bosses’ attitudes, some were affectionate toward her, some protective, and some indifferent. But none showed the level of respect they did now.
Li Dashao was just a countryside cook who had never seen much of the world, but he wasn’t a fool. He had the sharpness typical of rural folk, and he quickly concluded that this lady was the true owner of the restaurant.
How was the food?
At last, the person who truly had the power to decide his fate was about to speak.
“This is…” Cheng Jiao-niang began, but then paused and turned to look at the maid. “You, what’s your name?”
The maid froze, her expression suddenly stricken, as if she was about to cry.
“Miss, my name is Ban Qin,” she said pitifully, with a hint of pleading in her voice.
Miss… was Miss abandoning her?
What was going on? Why was she suddenly asking her name?
Li Dashao was momentarily stunned. He instinctively lifted his head and finally got a clear look at the lady sitting in front of him.
She appeared to be around fourteen or fifteen years old, with a porcelain-like face, large eyes, and a plain-colored dress that reached her chest, covered by a blue satin outer robe. Her hands rested properly on her knees as she sat upright.
Just as he looked at her, the young lady’s gaze shifted toward him. Startled, Li Dashao quickly lowered his head again.
“You’ll learn a few new dishes from her,” Cheng Jiao-niang said. She didn’t continue the topic of names, nor did she comment on Li Dashao’s cooking.
Li Dashao lifted his head again, confused. “Ah?”
The maid quickly knelt properly and saluted him.
“I am Ban Qin,” she said.
Flustered, Li Dashao hurriedly returned the gesture.
“Miss wants me to teach you a few new dishes,” Ban Qin said. “I will be staying here in the kitchen from now on.”
This time, Li Dashao understood.
A new cook had been hired!
He really was about to be dismissed!
Zhou Liulang jumped off his horse, tossed the reins aside, and let the horse wander freely.
From the gatehouse, a man and a woman emerged, both carrying an air of arrogance.
“We’re not here to see you. We’re here to see Lady Cheng. Why are you making things so difficult?” they said.
Zhou Liu-lang had already started walking past them, but upon hearing this, he turned back abruptly and grabbed the man who had been standing with his hands on his hips, speaking with his head held high.
Caught off guard, the man was startled.
“What are you doing?” he shouted.
Before he could finish speaking, the young man, trained in martial arts and full of strength, easily overpowered him. The middle-aged man stumbled backward unsteadily. Accompanied by a shrill scream from the woman beside him, Zhou Liu-lang dragged him by the collar straight to the entrance.
“Look! What does this say?” Zhou Liu-lang demanded.
Above the door, the plaque hung high, with the words ‘Zhou Residence’ freshly painted for the new year, gleaming brightly.
“Get out!” Zhou Liu-lang bellowed, shoving the man forcefully.
The man staggered back, barely managing to stay on his feet, his expression filled with embarrassment.
“If people like this come knocking again, don’t let them in,” Zhou Liu-lang ordered in a deep voice.
The gatekeepers hurriedly responded in unison, “Yes, sir!”
Zhou Liu-lang strode forward with a grim expression, moving swiftly. It was only when he approached his parents’ residence that he took a deep breath and replaced his stern face with a relaxed expression.
“Sixth Young Master, Madam has guests,” a maid greeted him in a low voice.
“They’re here for her again?” Zhou Liu-lang asked with a snort.
The maid smiled.
“Not exactly for her,” she replied. “But they came because of her.”
Neither of them mentioned a name, but both understood perfectly well who she was.
Wasn’t it all the same? These days, anyone coming to the Zhou residence was doing so because of her.
Zhou Liu-lang took a deep breath and was about to turn away when the door to the room swung open. Two women stepped out.
“Madam, please reconsider. Our madam is truly sincere…”
They were still speaking as the door behind them was firmly shut.
The two women turned around and pursed their lips in displeasure.
“She’s just an aunt, not a parent. It’s not like she gets the final say in the girl’s marriage,” they muttered to each other before hastily walking away.
Zhou Liu-lang glanced at them.
“What were they here for?” he asked.
The maid looked around cautiously.
“They came to propose a marriage to Lady Cheng,” she whispered.
Zhou Liu-lang froze.
A marriage proposal?
“… Lady Cheng is fourteen now; it’s not unreasonable to start discussing marriage. But everyone knows what these people are really after. When a woman marries, isn’t it just for a lifetime of peace and security? Especially for someone like Lady Cheng, who has had past ailments—it’s even harder for her to find a good match. Marrying into a family like that… how could she ever feel at ease?” the maid muttered softly.
Zhou Liu-lang couldn’t help but glance back at the two women who had just left, then at his mother’s hall.
Marriage…
For women, what they sought was nothing more than a sense of security and reliance.
A thought flashed through his mind, and his hand, hanging at his side, unconsciously clenched into a fist.
In Tai Ping Residence, Li Dashao left dejectedly with the maid in tow, while the old manager was invited in.
“Master, the most important thing is popularity. And to attract customers, we must offer something novel,” the old manager got straight to the point. “To be frank, when Druken Phoenix Pavilion first made a name for itself, it was thanks to the Dou family’s secret sauce recipe. With that sauce, the dishes had an exceptional flavor. But over time, other restaurants started figuring out how to make similar sauces, and ours was no longer special. That’s why business declined day by day—until Young Master Sun introduced the ‘Passing Immortal’ dish, and suddenly, business boomed again.”
A maid who had just arrived by carriage snorted at his words.
“That ‘Passing Immortal’ dish wasn’t even his own invention,” she muttered.
Cheng Jiao-niang shot her a look, and the maid quickly fell silent.
“Master, these days, respectable households all have their own cooks, and the food they serve is more refined than what you find outside. When people dine out, they’re looking for novelty. As for those simply wanting to fill their stomachs, they won’t bother coming to a restaurant—they’ll just buy something from the street vendors. So, for us running a restaurant, our purpose is twofold: first, to provide a place for social gatherings, and second, to offer a fresh and unique taste,” the old manager continued, gazing at the young girl before him with a touch of wonder.
Who knew whose young mistress she was? What had suddenly made her want to open a restaurant for fun? Of all things to play with, why a restaurant? This was hardly child’s play.
“I see,” Cheng Jiao-niang nodded as she looked at the old shopkeeper. “You’ve made an excellent point.”
Standing to the side, Xu Maoxiu also glanced at the old manager and smiled faintly.
Since volunteering to work here, the old man had always seemed timid—half-deaf and dull, or so it appeared. Who would have thought he actually understood things so clearly? He never shared such insights with them, probably because he had guessed they weren’t the real decision-makers and didn’t want to waste his breath. Now, in front of the true owner, his real abilities finally showed.
Though he had earned the owner’s approval, the old manager didn’t feel like smiling.
As the people in the hall were speaking, footsteps sounded outside.
“Manager Wu! Manager Wu!” a man’s voice called from outside.
The old manager frowned.
“This guy again… why is he here this time?” he muttered. Before he could say more, a head peeked in through the doorway.
“Manager Wu—ah! So many people here!”
The speaker was a young man of about twenty, thin and lanky, with an unusually large head. At first glance, he looked like a wobbly bamboo pole balancing a ball. He was dressed in a half-worn Taoist robe, giving him a rather comical appearance.
When he noticed there were women in the room, he was so startled that he immediately shrank back.
“Stop poking around!” Xu Bangchui shouted, standing up and moving to the door.
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” came the panicked voice of the man outside, accompanied by the clinking sounds of something being knocked over.
“Running a business means welcoming customers when the door is open. How can it be like this?” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
Xu Maoxiu shot Xu Bangchui a glare, then stood up and walked to the door.
“Brother Sun, apologies for that,” he said.
“No, no,” came the hurried response from outside.
“I just wanted to ask, do you want some tofu today?”
“Hey,” the old manager straightened up and called out toward the door, “I’ve told you so many times, your tofu really isn’t good. Don’t sell it anymore, and don’t make it either. Just stick to farming.”
He turned to Cheng Jiao-niang and continued, “This man is from Dashao’s village. He was originally going to become a Taoist priest, but after his temple closed down, he came back. I don’t know where he learned his strange craft, but he makes tofu from yellow beans. He goes around trying to sell it, but no one buys. He’s this old, and still hasn’t figured out how to make a living…”
Before he could finish, Cheng Jiao-niang spoke up.
“I’ll buy it,” she said.
Everyone in the room froze, momentarily stunned and unable to react.
“Call him back, Miss wants to buy,” the maid raised her voice and shouted.
The repeated shouting scared the guy so much that he almost turned and ran, only to be dragged back into the room, still trembling with fear.
The maid scooped a piece of tofu from the basket and handed it to Cheng Jiao-niang.
Cheng Jiao-niang took a bite with a spoon and tilted her head slightly.
The maid understood immediately and quickly grabbed the spittoon from the hall. Cheng Jiao-niang spat the tofu into it.
“Miss, I’ve tasted this before. While it’s edible, it’s just not very good,” the old manager said.
Cheng Jiao-niang wiped her mouth and looked at the young Taoist kneeling in the hall.
“Did you make this?” she asked.
He nodded, too scared to lift his head.
“I… I learned it from my master,” he stammered. “We made it while preparing elixirs. Although, although it doesn’t taste good, it’s… it’s good for the body.”
“If it was really good for the body, your master wouldn’t have died after taking his own pills,” the old manager shook his head. “Speak properly, don’t spout nonsense.”
The young Taoist lowered his head awkwardly, too embarrassed to say anything further.
Cheng Jiao-niang stood up and walked a few steps forward. The people in the hall were unsure of what she was doing and couldn’t help but watch her.
She stopped in front of the young Taoist’s basket, lifted the damp cloth covering the tofu, and inspected it closely.
“Miss…” the young Taoist couldn’t help but ask, “Are you buying tofu? Really, it’s really quite good.”
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him.
“You, are you selling it?” she asked.
The young Taoist was stunned for a moment, then his face lit up with joy.
“Of course, of course! I make tofu to sell,” he nodded eagerly.
“Not that,” Cheng Jiao-niang continued to look at him and asked again, “Are you selling?”
“Huh?”
Both the Taoist and the people in the hall were left confused, unable to understand what she meant.
“My mistress is asking you—are you, as the person, for sale?” the maid came to her senses and asked, suddenly understanding.
The people in the hall now understood, and they looked at Cheng Jiao-niang in disbelief.
The young Taoist was equally stunned. He looked up at the lady before him.
“You want to buy me?” he asked, his voice trembling, as he pointed to himself in shock.
