Chapter 20

Ying Quhe swept Xi Mi’s bangs aside into a center part, and sure enough, her field of vision widened considerably.

Under his guidance, trimming the shrimp tails felt like completing a major undertaking — deeply satisfying, a weight lifted.

Ying Quhe released her and moved to the prep table to sort the seasonings for her.

He snapped the dried chili peppers in half by hand, the sesame-sized white seeds bursting across the plate. In the rough ceramic seasoning dish, the fiery red dried chilies and Sichuan peppercorns clashed in color, conjuring the boiling, searing heat of high summer.

“So we’re making spicy mantis shrimp?” Xi Mi took a deep breath, her heartbeat finally settling, her pace of speech returning to normal.

“The competition is approaching. There are some things I won’t have time to teach you. But remember this — one spice covers three flaws.”

Ying Quhe spoke unhurriedly, breaking the dried chilies one by one with careful, gentle movements. An almost magical quality seemed to linger at his fingertips, drawing your eye, making it impossible to look away.

Those hands were exceptionally distinctive. The motion of breaking the peppers seemed to overlap with some image deep in her memory.

Xi Mi had never seen Ying Quhe cook, yet just staring at those hands, she had a powerful sense of déjà vu.

Her gaze fixed blankly on his hands. She murmured, “Mmm… I’ve only ever heard that one fair complexion covers three flaws^[1]. I’ve never heard that one spice covers three flaws.”

The flavors of Xi Mi’s hometown leaned sweet. The spiciness of her hometown and the spiciness here in Jinyang were not remotely comparable.

Jinyang was a capital of numbing-spicy cuisine on the taste map. The flavors here centered overwhelmingly on that numbing heat.

“Spiciness itself is not a flavor. It’s a form of stimulation to the nerves — a sensation of pain.” A faint, burning prickling had risen between Ying Quhe’s palms. He poured a bit of vinegar into his palms, rubbed his hands together, rinsed them clean with water, and the stinging sensation vanished.

Xi Mi lifted her chin and picked up the thread. “So when the tongue is in pain, its sensitivity drops, which affects the taster’s judgment of the food? Our Xi Family Restaurant’s Xi Family cuisine leans toward lighter flavors. I’ve always wanted to experiment with these heavy flavors, but I never had the chance. So this so-called Chef God of the Ancient Town is just an empty title. Compared to you, I’m nothing but a frog at the bottom of a well.”

The other day she had actually tried to show off her cooking skills to Ying Quhe. At the memory, a wave of acute embarrassment swept over Xi Mi. She wanted to crawl into a crack in the floor. The whole situation had the energy of a frog king at the bottom of a well telling the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea^[2], “I’ve seen the widest ocean.”

Ying Quhe read her mortification. He flicked her forehead with his finger again and offered measured praise. “To have this level of skill at such a young age, many chefs couldn’t hope to match it. You have talent. This frog at the bottom of a well still has enormous potential. I think highly of your cooking, and I think highly of your ancient recipes. When you have the chance, write down those old recipes. We can try making them together.”

Xi Mi let out a hiss, rubbing her forehead. “You can follow me on Weibo. I’ve uploaded quite a few recipes. It’s just… Master… you probably don’t use that sort of thing, do you?”

“Mm. But I could give it a try, for you.”

The phrase for you hit Xi Mi square in the heart. A burst of heat surged from her chest through her whole body.

The kitchen’s air conditioning was clearly blasting, yet Xi Mi felt the same exhilaration as eating a chili pepper, like she might spontaneously combust.

Xi Mi no longer dared to look Ying Quhe in the eye. She turned away to open the fridge, pretending to retrieve ingredients, wishing she could just climb inside the thing.

“Looking for something? The top two shelves are vegetables, the middle two are fruits and melons. The bottom shelf — meat on the left, seafood on the right.”

Xi Mi lightly bumped her head against the fridge door, wishing she could pass out.

She wasn’t looking for anything. She just wanted to cool off, to calm down… She randomly pulled out a box of unprocessed jellyfish and presented it to Ying Quhe, only to find herself suddenly struck mute, unable to speak.

“The jellyfish hasn’t been processed. Trying to cook it now would only produce a pot of dog shit. So, Miss Xi Mi, are you handing this to me expecting me to extract salt from it?” Ying Quhe braced one hand on the marble countertop, tapping his index finger against the surface. His gaze fixed on the top of her head, stern. “I am not satisfied with your performance today. Lift your head.”

Won’t lift it. Won’t. Absolutely won’t.

She didn’t dare lift it at all… QAQ…

Ying Quhe took hold of her little head with his hand and forced it up, only to discover the girl’s face was bright red. “Are you hot?” Her head was so small that his five fingers could completely encase it. That smallness stirred in him an inexplicable protective urge, and he couldn’t bring himself to keep up the stern attitude.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Ying Quhe let go of her and tilted his chin toward the door. “Go get that.”

Xi Mi practically fled the kitchen. She reached the entryway and checked the visitor on the video monitor. Ji Donglin’s face appeared on the electronic screen.

What was he doing here?

She was still hesitating over whether to open the door when Ying Quhe silently halted behind her, bending down to look at the screen. His cheek practically grazed her ear.

There was almost no distance between them. She could hear his breathing with perfect clarity.

“Who is this?” Ying Quhe straightened up, pressed the talk button, and addressed the figure on the screen. “Who are you looking for?”

Hearing a man’s voice come through the speaker, Ji Donglin froze for a moment. Wasn’t the Goddess’s friend supposed to be a woman?

Why was it a man?

Could it be a butler? A driver? Some kind of house staff?

That thought immediately made Ji Donglin feel considerably better. He cleared his throat and said, “Hello, sorry to bother you. I’m the good buddy of the friend of the owner of this house. I’m here to see the friend of the owner.”

A moment of silence came through the speaker, then that magnetic male voice issued forth. “I am the owner.”

Ji Donglin was suddenly stricken. How could the Goddess be living with a man? He bit his lip in profound anguish. “I’m looking for Xi Mi.”

Ying Quhe covered the speaker with his hand and turned to Xi Mi. “For you? Do you know him?”

Xi Mi nodded, hemming and hawing. “This is that… internet friend I told you about.”

“Then you’re not close?”

Xi Mi didn’t deny it.

Ying Quhe spoke into the speaker again. “Apologies. The owner’s friend says she doesn’t have a good buddy.”

Outside the door, Ji Donglin grew frantic. He pressed his nostrils toward the camera and shouted, “Goddess, it’s me! Ji Donglin! The fan club!”

Ying Quhe was about to hang up when Xi Mi’s hand shot out and stopped him. “The contract doesn’t seem to say… that the apprentice can’t have friends over… at home, right?”

“I’m the owner. Entertaining guests, shouldn’t that require my consent too?” Ying Quhe swiftly disconnected, cutting off all contact with the outside. “It’s already evening. Were you planning to invite him to stay for dinner?”

Xi Mi clasped her fists in supplication. “Master Ying, I know I’m not close to him, but he did treat me to crayfish once, and he helped me rent this place. I owe him a favor. How about you let him in? I’ll cook dinner tonight, and he can stay to eat? I’ll give you cash for the food.”

Ying Quhe’s expression was full of displeasure, but meeting Xi Mi’s pitiful dark eyes, he finally relented.

*

Ji Donglin had the kind of stubborn resolve that refused to quit until he reached his goal. The little iron gate finally swung open, and Xi Mi poked her head out, waving him in. “Ji Donglin, quick, come in.”

Ji Donglin cheerfully followed her inside, walking along the gravel path, past the fountain, the pool…

At the entrance hall, Ji Donglin tapped Xi Mi on the shoulder and whispered, “Goddess, how many people live here?”

“Two.” Xi Mi answered without a thought. Remembering something, she turned and held out her hand. “My money? Three hundred? Let’s say I stayed one night, so minus ten. Give me the remaining two hundred ninety.”

“…” Ji Donglin sat on the low stool, putting on shoe covers. He looked up at her. “Goddess, I gotta say, you really are something else.”

Xi Mi let out a scoff and teased, “Don’t tell me you’re thinking, ‘Oh, Xi Mi, you’re so unique, nothing like those shallow, flashy girls out there, so down-to-earth, so adorably naive’?”

Ji Donglin finished with the shoe covers and stood up, raising his arms in a defensive block. “No way! Goddess, what kind of person do you take me for?”

Xi Mi led him into the living room to sit, poured him a glass of water, and told him to wait a moment.

Ji Donglin took a sip of water and scanned the room. His gaze collided with Ying Quhe’s as the man emerged from the kitchen. Ying Quhe grabbed the remote, switched the channel to a financial news program, and took a sip of his coffee. Noticing the stare fixed on him, he turned his head ever so slightly and shot Ji Donglin a death glare.

The moment he turned, Ji Donglin got a full view of his face. He choked on his water, dissolving into a fit of violent coughs. Then, without a shred of shame, he scooted over and grabbed Ying Quhe’s arm, eyes sparkling. “Male God!”

Ji Donglin had no words to describe his emotions anymore.

Not only did this villa house his Goddess, but it also housed his Male God! Ying Quhe! He wasn’t just a judge on China’s Supreme Taste this year; he was a low-key renowned chef in the industry, a man who had cooked for State Banquets. This man’s skill level had long surpassed that of any five-star hotel’s Executive Chef. Ji Donglin, riding on his grandfather’s coattails, had once tasted a dish he prepared. That single flavor was enough for his taste buds to remember for a hundred years. Nowadays, getting a meal cooked by him was harder than reaching the heavens. Ji Donglin was so excited he was practically on the verge of bursting a blood vessel.

“Let go.”

The chilling voice of the great Ying Quhe cut through Ji Donglin’s euphoria, finally snapping him back to normal.

He pointed at his own nose and asked, “Master, do you still remember me? Eight years ago, you cooked the birthday banquet for my grandfather. We met back then.”

Ying Quhe had no memory of him, but eight years ago he had indeed cooked for a birthday banquet. Old Master Ji of the Xiyang Ji Family, his eightieth birthday. It was that very connection with the old man that later gave him the opportunity to be recommended for the State Banquet. Eight years ago, the Ji Family’s grandson had probably been just… a middle school kid?

Ying Quhe’s tone softened considerably. “I remember now.”

Ji Donglin excitedly grabbed his arm again. “So what should I call you? Uncle Ying? Master Ying? Just Uncle? You’ve aged incredibly well. When I was a kid, your face was this young, and now, you still look the same. Not a single wrinkle. You’re a legend of eternal youth!”

“…” Ying Quhe pulled his hand free with a blank expression, stood up, and looked down at him. He desperately wanted to kick him out.

Eight years ago, he was twenty-two. Now, he was only thirty. Yet this little brat was calling him uncle.

Was he deliberately looking for trouble?

Xi Mi made four dishes: Spicy Mantis Shrimp, Stir-fried Clams, Braised Beef Chunks, and Cold Chicken Slices.

The sauce for the mantis shrimp was blended by Ying Quhe, and it tasted pretty good. The stir-fried clams, to Ji Donglin, were sheer perfection. He’d never tasted such incredible clams in his life, but Ying Quhe seemed determined to nitpick.

The beef and chicken were outstanding. Even Ying Quhe couldn’t guarantee he could produce better flavors than hers. Ying Quhe had been in a pretty foul mood at first, but Xi Mi’s beef and chicken were so good that he ended up eating an extra bowl of rice.

Ji Donglin, already on his third bowl, let out a burp and asked, “Uncle Ying, can I quietly ask what your relationship with my Goddess is?”

Choking on a grain of rice, Ying Quhe coughed lightly before quickly composing himself. “Then keep it quiet.”

“We’re master and disciple,” Xi Mi answered, also startled by Ji Donglin’s “Uncle.” She poked his elbow with her chopsticks. “How old are you?”

“Twenty.” Ji Donglin inexplicably breathed a sigh of relief. He lowered his head for another mouthful of rice, eyes squinting in a smile. “Don’t think I’m just mooching off my parents. I’ve been earning royalties since I was fifteen, never took a penny from my family. My apartment, my car, I bought ’em all myself. I can support myself, and I can support a future wife. Goddess, if you’re considering boyfriends, you could consider me, right?”

“…” Ying Quhe tried his best to control himself. His fists clenched repeatedly, holding back the overwhelming urge to kick him out.

Xi Mi knew Ji Donglin was joking, so she played along. “Little kid, you need to call me Big Sister. I’m five years older than you.”

“Huh? No way, Goddess? Why do I feel like you’re younger than me?” Ji Donglin looked surprised for a second, then quickly broke into a grin. “It’s fine, I’m totally down with older sister-younger brother romance. Anything within ten years, I can handle. Hey, Uncle Ying, you married?”

Married my ass…

Ying Quhe dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin and said flatly, “We’re not close. Don’t go around calling me uncle. I don’t take on god-nephews, much less god-sons.” He stood up and tossed the napkin onto the table with such force it looked like he was aiming straight for Ji Donglin’s face.

After Ying Quhe went upstairs, Ji Donglin finally asked Xi Mi timidly, “Goddess, did I say something wrong?”

“Yep, you seriously pissed him off.” Xi Mi stuffed a bite of food into her mouth and pointed at him with her chopsticks. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to call people ‘uncle’ so casually? Besides, my master isn’t that much older than you. Only ten years.”

Ji Donglin was shocked. “I thought he was at least forty!”

“So what exactly were you imagining?”

Ji Donglin: “That means when he catered my family’s birthday banquet eight years ago, he was only twenty-two? That young? That can’t be right. A twenty-two-year-old Executive Chef, isn’t that completely insane?”

“Yep. My master is just that awesome. :)”

*

The moment Ji Donglin got home, he updated his Weibo:

“Met Ying Quhe today. I feel like I’m floating. face in hands.”

The comment section exploded:

“The male idol met the male idol? Uwu, I want to hold my face and fangirl too. Hang in there, idol, don’t go gay.”

“Who is Ying Quhe?”

“OP, haven’t you watched China’s Supreme Taste? The super snarky judge. Gorgeous looks, killer voice, and his hands are absolutely beautiful. A lot of people suspect he’s Culinary Dao. _(:3)∠)_”

“Jam packed. Idol don’t go gay, don’t end up a uke. T.T”

…

Xi Mi scrolled to that Weibo post, chin in hand, and sighed. “Brainless fans” really couldn’t be trusted.

Yesterday they said they loved only her; today they’d turned into Ying Quhe fans. Brainless fans couldn’t even stay loyal for a day.

…

For Friday’s Top 100 into Top 50 round of China’s Supreme Taste, the production team set up the stage in Jinyang’s largest amusement park.

Among the hundred chefs, women were few and far between. All the women’s uniforms followed hotel standards: Xi Mi and the other female chefs wore red chef coats with black bow ties, while the men wore white coats with red bow ties.

To ensure fairness, the competition format was released on the spot.

The hundred chefs drew lots to split into two groups, working on either a Seafood Banquet or an Emperor’s Feast, each group producing twenty-five dishes. The two groups would face off, and in the end the audience and judges would taste both themed banquets and issue scores.

The audience held 90 votes, and the judges held 10.

Xi Mi had hoped to face Nan Qing as an opponent, but in the end they both drew the Emperor’s Feast group. The fifty of them assigned to the Emperor’s Feast spent ten minutes in a quick meeting to nail down the menu and assign roles.

Xi Mi and Nan Qing were put in charge of appetizers; the main courses and desserts went to other chefs.

The match was entirely a gamble on luck, and she and Nan Qing ended up with excellent odds. Everyone in their group happened to be fairly adept at making so-called imperial dishes. Nan Qing and Xi Mi each prepared a few small starter plates, sweet and sour, designed to stimulate the appetite.

The moment the two beauties from the Influencer Group appeared in the same shot, the livestream barrage went wild.

“Good god, the Goddess and that backstage hanger-on are in the same frame?”

“To everyone yelling backstage, scram, okay? Our Xi Xi Xi Mi actually has skills. Didn’t you watch the last round? That blinding Golden Broth Mushroom dish absolutely destroyed your Goddess Nan Qing, all right?”

“Haven’t seen her in a week, and Xi Xi Xi Mi suddenly got prettier? So last week she just wasn’t wearing makeup? I still like last week’s fresh-faced Xi Xi Mi!”

“I’m shipping this pair! The height difference between the two goddesses is so adorable. _(:3)∠)_”

…

Ji Donglin was also at the venue with his fan group. With a wave of his little flag, his fans burst into cheers, waving signs and flashing lights as if they were at a singing competition instead of a cooking contest.

A staff member pointed at the Xi Xi Xi Mi fan section in the stands and scolded, “Can you keep it down? You think this is some talent show?”

The Old Lady brandished her sign and retorted, “You saying we smitten fangirls can’t cheer on our favorite? We paid for tickets to get in; what gives you the right to stop us?”

Xiao Ming straightened the red Young Pioneers scarf around his neck and flashed the three-bar armband on his sleeve. With force and spirit he declared, “Yeah, what gives? You have any idea how much pocket money they docked just so I could watch this match? Don’t run your mouth if you don’t know. A fanboy stuck in the audience not allowed to support his idol: what’s the difference between that and a salted fish!”

Lao Qin clutched an enormous sign. From beginning to end he hadn’t cheered or spoken a word, so quiet he barely resembled a fan. Faced with the staff’s scolding, he finally spoke. “This amusement park is under my name. If you’ve got an issue, have the showrunner come see us. You’re welcome to pack up the entire production and leave.”

The staff member stared at Lao Qin. The man did look familiar.

A second, sharper look, and well, wasn’t this President Qin, one of Jinyang’s top ten invisible tycoons? Every last one of this crowd, from the young to the old, was someone you couldn’t afford to mess with. Best of thirty-six strategies: run away.

…

Before the groups had even been announced, the outcome of this match was already a foregone conclusion.

The three great chefs of the Influencer Group and the three great chefs of the Traditional Group had all been placed in the Emperor’s Feast group. A full Emperor’s Feast comprised twenty-five courses: four appetizers, eight hot dishes, six cold dishes, two soups, three desserts, and two fruit platters.

Hot dishes fell to the Traditional Group’s three great chefs, and the quality of those three dishes was absolutely overwhelming.

This Top 100 into Top 50 elimination round was just a warm-up. The real slaughter would begin the day after tomorrow, when the fifty were whittled down to ten. Not even counting Jun Uncle and Nan Qing from the same Influencer Group, the three greats from the Traditional Group already had her more than a little terrified.

The rules and theme for the next round would only be announced on the spot when the next match began. That kind of improvisation tested a chef’s adaptability to the extreme.

…

After the show, Xi Mi logged onto Weibo under pressure and was baffled to find that netizens had relentlessly shipped her and Nan Qing together as a couple. Some had even started drawing Q-style art of the two of them.

Xi Mi was cast as an adorable little loli. Nan Qing was cast as a cool and aloof queen in a black cheongsam. Little Xi Mi soaked inside a bowl of tangyuan, chin resting in her hands, elbows propped on the rim of the bowl. The cheongsam-clad icy queen Nan Qing leaned against the side of the bowl, her skirt split high on the thigh, showcasing long legs perfectly.

The cool-eyed queen was poking the loli Xi Mi on the head with one finger.

Xi Mi had to admit, even she found the image… ridiculously cute. QAQ

The comments beneath it were numerous:

「Ahhh, the two foodie goddesses are a perfect visual match!」

「I don’t even know who they are but I ship this pair.」

「Cool queen plus little loli — cuteness explosion!」

…

In the art, she sat soaking alongside a round, plump tangyuan, her pudgy little face genuinely sort of adorable. The way Nan Qing poked the top of her head with a finger inexplicably reminded her of Ying Quhe… and the way he’d flicked her forehead.

Ugh…

Xi Mi covered her face, blushing for no reason at all, then hugged her pillow and rolled back and forth across the bed.

Someone had also drawn Xi Mi as a short-haired young girl in a red qipao, wearing a pair of embroidered shoes on her feet, full-on Chinese aesthetic.

This fan art drew a wave of heated comments:

「Tbh… does this girl only own one pair of shoes? She wore these on the last show too. So sadd.」

「Remember when Goddess showed up for her first competition with zero makeup, looking totally washed out? Probably couldn’t afford a makeup artist. So sadd.」

Right at that moment, Xiao Ming suddenly posted on Weibo under his fan club account: 「Goddess is seriously so pitiful. The T-shirt she wears is all wrinkled from washing, and her pants have two holes in them but she still wears them. My grandma even said she wanted to buy Goddess new pants. Anyway, everyone please support Goddess lots, okay!」

QAQ… Xi Mi saw that Weibo post and glanced down at her ripped jeans.

Those were a viral bestseller she’d bought on Taobao…

The hashtag #XiMiNeverChangesShoes# somehow got pushed onto the trending list. She cringed staring at it. She’d never imagined that the first time she made trending, the headline would be this.

Soon, netizens pointed out that Xi Mi’s embroidered shoes were actually not shabby at all. They were a handmade limited edition from Mord.

Xi Mi went to Mord’s official website and sure enough, there they were: a Chinese-style pair of embroidered cloth shoes. She hovered the mouse over the price, counted the digits carefully, confirmed there was no decimal point, and sucked in a sharp breath.

The price was 99 followed by two more zeros.

She stared at the shoes and was instantly filled with reverence, just short of lighting incense and enshrining them.

Was it too late to ask for a refund?

The next day, Xi Mi decisively opted not to wear the embroidered shoes and shuffled downstairs in her slippers. During breakfast, she gnawed on a tofu skin bun and asked Ying Quhe, “Master, why did you lie to me? Netizens dug up the truth about the embroidered shoes. They’re clearly 99 with two extra zeros, not just 99. I… I can’t possibly pay you back right now.”

“Pay me back when you start earning.”

Xi Mi pouted. “Your disciple is this poor. Master, do you honestly think I can pay you back?”

The tofu skin buns Xi Mi made were pretty good. The wrappers were just the right thickness, stuffed with shiitake mushrooms and minced pork, and when you bit into one, a burst of savory broth spilled out. The rich juices of the filling mingled with the mellow fragrance of fresh soy on the taste buds.

One tofu skin bun satisfied Ying Quhe’s stomach. He said, “The annual salary for an Executive Chef at a five-star hotel in Jinyang is roughly between six hundred thousand and seven hundred thousand Yuan. As my disciple, shouldn’t you have a little more confidence? A master investing in his disciple is only natural. As my disciple, if you can’t even muster that much ambition, then walk straight out that door. Don’t let it hit you on the way out.”

“…” Xi Mi wept silently. A six-hundred-thousand-Yuan annual salary. She truly didn’t dare even dream of it. And she didn’t dare admit she’d never thought about it, afraid Ying Quhe would punch her into a little silly dog.

“Ten o’clock we head out. I’m taking you to buy clothes.” Ying Quhe raised his wrist to check the time. “You’ve got ten minutes left to finish breakfast. Go upstairs and get ready.”

Xi Mi gulped down a mouthful of soy milk and waved her hands frantically. “I… I don’t need to buy clothes.”

Ying Quhe said, “I’m not asking for your opinion. I’m issuing an order from your master. I refuse to let Ying Quhe’s disciple be so shabby she only has two sets of clothes to rotate. Also, your taste in clothing makes me question whether I’ve taken on a male disciple. Miss Xi, did you think signing a contract with me and becoming master and disciple was some casual, carefree thing? Every cent I spend on you, I will record clearly in my ledger. When you become an Executive Chef, you will pay me back every last bit, with interest.”

Xi Mi was rendered completely speechless.

So as Ying Quhe’s disciple, the number one rule was: you couldn’t look shabby, you had to dress decently, and above all, you couldn’t embarrass him. On the verge of tears, she asked, “Chef Ying, you demand such perfection from your disciples… are you a Virgo, by any chance?”

“Five minutes left. Before we leave, I need to see you in a different outfit.” He extended his long arm, fingers slightly bent, and lightly tapped the top of her head with his knuckles. “And your hair, tidy it up.”

Ying Quhe left the dining table and walked out. Xi Mi patted her burning cheeks.

…Xi Mi, Xi Mi, get a grip. If you blush again, you’re a little silly dog!

Remembering Ying Quhe’s remark about suspecting she was a man, her desire to grow out her hair suddenly intensified.

…

Entering the shopping mall, Ying Quhe walked so fast Xi Mi couldn’t keep up. The gap between a long-legged dreamboat and a short-legged fangirl showed itself instantly. Ying Quhe seemed particularly fond of Mord’s handmade shoes and led her straight into the flagship store.

The sales clerks stood in a neat row, smiling as they chorused, “Welcome.”

Xi Mi was originally one-sixty, but inside a luxury store, she felt like she’d suddenly shrunk to one-thirty… She ducked behind Ying Quhe, hoping to absorb some of his regal aura so she’d look less timid and could avoid facing the sales clerks head-on.

Ying Quhe grabbed her shoulder and pushed her forward, pointing at a pair of flats in the display case. “These. Go try them on.”

Xi Mi leaned against the glass case and peeked at the price tag. She counted the digits carefully. Four figures. Her little head immediately shook like a rattle-drum^[3]. “Too expensive! Can we buy something else?”

“The money goes in the ledger. You’ll pay it back later.” The corner of Ying Quhe’s lips curled, but there was nothing gentle in his expression toward her. “Pressure creates motivation. This is a method to ignite your fighting spirit.”

Xi Mi was on the verge of tears and nearly dropped to her knees to hug his leg and cry, “Daddy, have mercy!”

“Master, I’m full of fighting spirit! My dream is to become an Executive Chef, with an annual salary of six hundred thousand Yuan.” Xi Mi put on a resolute expression and raised three fingers. “Really. If I’m lying, I’m a little silly dog.”

“Six hundred thousand a year and you’re already satisfied?” Ying Quhe grabbed her shoulder and brought her over to another shoe cabinet, pointing at a pair inside, tapping the glass. “Those earlier ones offered too little motivation. These.”

Xi Mi leaned on the glass and counted again, carefully. F-five figures.

“Enough, enough… I’ve got enough motivation now…” Her legs started cramping and going weak. Her chest felt tight and she wanted to cough blood. “Chef Ying, I think the motivational energy from those four-figure ones was already more than enough. These five-figure ones are overkill.”

Ying Quhe turned and handed a card to the sales clerk, pointing at both pairs of shoes. “Wrap both of these up for me.”

Xi Mi felt a geyser of blood spray three thousand feet into the sky^[4].

#HowCanADisciplePossiblyLackMotivationWithASpendthriftMaster

Ying Quhe kept taking her around the mall. In a clothing store, she pointed at a denim outfit and asked the assistant to get it down, only to be mercilessly cut off by Ying Quhe. “Try on that white dress.”

While trying it on, Xi Mi took a deep breath and checked the price. Not bad, not bad. Not too expensive. It was half the price of the five-figure shoes.

t.t

Just one shopping trip, and she was buried under a mountain of debt.

Maybe it was because she’d stayed in the old town too long, spent too much time in the kitchen, and rarely came out to see the world. Her First Senior Brother had once given her a pair of 2,000-yuan shoes, but she thought them too expensive and only wore them a few times. Back then, in the kitchen, in that little world of Xi Family Restaurant, she had felt wearing nice shoes was a waste.

Ying Quhe had basically opened the door to a whole new world for her.

For the first time, she experienced how amazing it felt to have money. Her desire to win the competition grew even fiercer. The prize was ten million yuan. Once she got it, she’d first pay off her debts, buy a house, and then stay in Jinyang to build her career.

With that thought, her fighting spirit surged.

Xi Mi spun around in front of Ying Quhe in the little white dress. She’d never worn a skirt this short, so she felt a bit self-conscious. “It’s not ugly, right?”

A flicker passed through Ying Quhe’s eyes. He didn’t answer her. Instead, he turned to the sales associate and told her to wrap up every single outfit from the same collection as this little white dress.

Xi Mi walked out clutching the shopping bags, practically in tears. “Why buy so many clothes? I… I’m afraid I can’t afford to…” She met Ying Quhe’s gaze and immediately swallowed the rest of her words. “I’ll work hard to earn money. I’ll strive to shop like this freely every month!”

Ying Quhe corrected her: “Your goal is to be able to shop like this anytime, without flinching at the price.”

Xi Mi mumbled weakly, “But the competition only lets us wear chef’s uniforms. Aren’t these clothes a bit… redundant?”

“You can wear them at home. Your current clothes are an eyesore to me.”

She naively thought the heart-wrenching pain of buying clothes would end there, but then Ying Quhe took her to the first floor, where there were all kinds of… skincare and cosmetics counters.

Xi Mi followed behind Ying Quhe, silently cursing his long legs. The man walking ahead seemed to sense her resentment and said, “As a woman, you can get by without a clear goal before 25, but after 25, you must know what you want. You don’t have to think about what kind of man you’ll end up with, but you have to know what you want for yourself. Clothes, shoes, cosmetics, bags: these are the material things that drive many women to work hard.”

While he was saying this, Xi Mi was already testing foundation. Then she tried a full set of makeup and bought it.

Makeup prices were much more approachable. A single lipstick was only a few hundred yuan.

She walked out carrying her purchases, calling the price of lipstick the most adorable.

Ying Quhe delivered another lecture: “Your goal is to have a house big enough to choose a room as a dressing room, and inside it, there must be a shelf lined with lipsticks in every shade.”

“…”

*

Leaving the mall, Xi Mi’s hands were full of bags, but Ying Quhe didn’t head to the parking garage. Instead, he walked into the subway station.

While waiting for the train, Xi Mi was puzzled. “Master, you’re not driving back?”

“Letting you get familiar with the city’s transit.” Ying Quhe took a few of the heaviest bags from her hands.

Xi Mi felt much lighter at once. “Master, you old-timer, you should have lent me a helping hand ages ago.”

The word “old-timer” hit a sore spot. Ying Quhe’s expression instantly chilled. Xi Mi realized her blunder and stuck out her tongue. “My master is the youngest! Mighty and handsome, with legs a meter eighty long.”

Ying Quhe: “…”

The subway arrived. The doors opened, and people rushed in, ignoring any order.

As soon as Xi Mi stepped onto the subway, she got trapped in the packed crowd. Everyone around her was nearly a head taller than her. Her head was wedged between the backs of a bunch of burly men, nearly suffocating her. She couldn’t see Ying Quhe, so she groped blindly for a handrail. After fumbling for a while, someone grabbed her wrist.

A strong pull yanked her forward, pulling her out from among the men.

Xi Mi stumbled forward and crashed into Ying Quhe’s chest. She could clearly feel the firmness of his pectoral muscles. Reflexively, she sprang back, turning sideways and lowering her head.

She could already feel her face flushing a deep crimson, as if it might drip blood, and her heart started pounding wildly again.

She’d had physical contact with Ying Quhe more than once or twice. Logically, she should be immune by now, but each time her reaction was stronger than the last.

A blast of air conditioning from overhead finally suppressed her “excitement.”

She took a deep breath and stood on tiptoes to reach the hanging strap. She reached once, couldn’t reach it… A third time… she gave up.

The subway stopped at another station. Few people got off, but another wave crowded on. Xi Mi was nearly pressed against Ying Quhe’s chest. A slight jolt nearly made her fall, but Ying Quhe grabbed her shoulders, steadied her, then lowered his head, practically whispering in her ear, “Hold on to my arm.”

“Mm…”

Xi Mi raised both hands above her head and grabbed Ying Quhe’s arm, the one he was using to hold the strap.

Through her palms, she could clearly feel the power in Ying Quhe’s arm, the flow of blood beneath his solid muscles.

That solidity gave her an indescribable sense of security.

She recalled her past solo travels, taking subways and trains, the loneliness of having no one to look after her. A quiet despair suddenly crept in.

She actually started to crave the feeling of being with Ying Quhe.

That feeling of being looked after, being challenged, being pushed…