Chapter 1

Past six o’clock, the main branch of Ying Shi Pavilion was cleared of customers.

At the entrance of the grapevine trellis corridor hung a red-lacquered wooden sign reading “Temporarily Closed.” The store manager led over a hundred staff members standing in two rows along both sides of the corridor, bowing slightly with hands clasped in front of them, holding their breath to welcome the big boss.

No one dared to speak, or even breathe too loudly, doing their best to keep their presence as low as possible.

At 6:15, a black sedan pulled up outside. The car door was pushed open from within, and a hand emerged first.

Resting casually on the edge of the door, the hand looked as though carved from white jade against the black car. Only when its long index finger twitched slightly did it seem real.

The big boss stepped out of the car, his long, straight legs meeting the ground. Two jade-white fingers pressed against his bow tie before moving up to pinch his throat, gently kneading it until he let out a soft cough and his furrowed brows finally relaxed.

Much better.

The man’s cough was low, yet carried a faint, crisp clarity.

His features were every bit as striking as his hands: bold eyebrows, a high nose bridge, and short, cleanly layered black hair.

His tailored suit outlined the powerful lines of his physique, with broad, sharp shoulders, a firm chest, and a narrow waist. Every stride he took radiated masculine charisma.

Ying Quhe stepped into the main corridor leading into Ying Shi Pavilion, greeted by a refreshing cool breeze beneath the green vines.

The corridor was built around an arched grapevine trellis. It was the peak of the season, and clusters of plump, juicy grapes hung down, translucent green like strings of jade beads.

The further in he walked, the lower the employees bowed. As he passed them, they barely dared to breathe, terrified that the sound of their breath might draw the big boss’s attention.

Ying Quhe stopped in the middle of the hallway. Turning his head, his eyes met the gaze of a fair-skinned young chef, who was staring intently at his hand.

He walked over and deliberately extended a hand, splaying his five long, well-defined fingers wide. “Do my hands look good?” His voice was cold, like deep water chilled to the bone.

Ying Quhe radiated an overwhelming aura, so when the young chef looked up and met those dark, distant eyes, he instantly lowered his head, his hands trembling uncontrollably. He had simply never seen such beautiful hands before, so he hadn’t been able to resist taking a few extra glances.

Ying Quhe lowered his arm and asked, “Are you afraid of me?” The coldness in his expression was like winter snow lingering on a mountain peak: breathtaking from afar, but untouchable up close.

The young chef kept his head down, not daring to answer.

Saying he was afraid meant losing his job.

Saying he wasn’t afraid would be an obvious lie, considering how his hands were trembling. In the end, he simply kept his head lowered and remained silent.

Any chef who could work at Ying Shi Pavilion was a top-tier master in the industry.

Yet before Ying Quhe, none of these masters dared so much as breathe too loudly. First, because he was the boss; second, because his palate was mercilessly picky and ruthless, capable of completely crushing a person’s confidence.

Ying Quhe pointed at the young chef and said, “You. Come inside with me.”

Now that the big boss had chosen an assistant, the other chefs breathed a collective sigh of relief. Instantly, all those tense shoulders relaxed.

Ying Shi Pavilion was the flagship high-end Chinese restaurant chain under the Ying Group. Aside from Jinyang, no provincial capital had more than a single branch, and its standards for chefs and dishes were ruthlessly strict.

Take the young chef, for instance: a natural prodigy who had won first place in a culinary competition, yet at the main branch, he was only qualified to be an assistant.

Ying Shi Pavilion was a sacred sanctuary that every renowned chef in the country dreamed of entering. Gaining a spot here meant securing both prestige and fortune.

Inside the kitchen, cookware of all sizes was fully stocked, along with over a hundred knives: big, small, long, and sharp, no two identical in shape.

Upon entering the kitchen, Ying Quhe changed into a chef’s uniform, pure white, without a single visible speck of dirt. He didn’t cook; he simply pulled out his phone and sat down on an armchair. Standing off to the side, the young chef didn’t dare to breathe loudly, trembling in a mix of nerves and excitement.

The young chef bit his lip so hard it nearly bled. Standing beside Ying Quhe, he stole a glance at the big boss’s profile.

Handsome, so handsome. To make a chef’s uniform look like high fashion, that was pure presence.

Sitting in his chair, Ying Quhe idly ran his index finger down the bridge of his straight nose, a hint of impatience showing in his cool, dark eyes.

The young chef stole another look at the big boss’s phone screen, recoiling in shock, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

The big boss’s Weibo account was actually… Culinary Dao?!

Overcome with excitement, the young chef wanted to throw himself at the big boss’s long, noble legs and drop to his knees in surrender. But intimidated by the man’s naturally commanding presence, he managed to restrain himself.

The food blogger “Culinary Dao” posted one cooking video a month on Weibo. He always wore a crisp white shirt while cooking, explaining recipes in his natural voice. His recipes were unique yet simple, paired with a pair of gorgeous hands and a deep, magnetic voice. Watching his videos was not just a visual feast, but an auditory extravaganza for food lovers.

Relying on his exquisite culinary skills, he had accumulated tens of millions of followers and was crowned by fans as “Weibo’s #1 Hands” and “Weibo’s Best Low Baritone.” Voice lovers, hand enthusiasts, and foodies alike, regardless of age or gender, all wanted to marry him.

Ying Quhe opened his Weibo direct messages. Unsurprisingly, he had received another curse from “Xi Xi Xi Mi.”

【Xi Xi Xi Mi】: Bastard Dao^[1], changing my recipe again without asking! I hope you run out of salt when you cook and your tongue turns sweet. 🙂

Ying Quhe rested his jaw on his hand and navigated to her Weibo homepage with one hand.

No updates… She still hadn’t posted a new Weibo message or a new recipe.

In the past, on the first of every month, Xi Xi Xi Mi would punctually post an ancient recipe. Last month was “Coin-Sliced Ham,” the month before was “Steamed Pufferfish,” and the month before that was “Xi-Style Pickled Mustard and Arrowhead Soup”…

Ying Quhe, in turn, would cook a dish according to “Xi Xi Xi Mi”‘s recipe on the first of every month. Because these were ancient recipes with many lost ingredients, he would improvise with substitutes and adjust the recipes accordingly.

Altering the recipes without permission infuriated “Xi Xi Xi Mi,” so much so that every morning at six o’clock sharp, the girl would log onto Weibo and fire off direct messages, cursing him in every way imaginable.

As if switching up her insults could somehow actually turn him into a dog.

“Xi Xi Xi Mi” had 99 followers and had been on Weibo for 12 months, with a total of 15 posts. Twelve of those posts were long-lost ancient recipes, while the remaining three were her ranting posts.

Ying Quhe sat in his chair, continuing to refresh her Weibo page.

The kitchen at Ying Shi Pavilion lacked neither ingredients nor cookware. Everything was ready, lacking only a recipe.

He sat in the kitchen refreshing Weibo for three whole hours before the girl finally posted an update.

Xi Xi Xi Mi: “Getting married tomorrow to someone twenty years older than me! What does twenty years older even mean? It means marrying an old man! Living in a family like this makes me want to smother myself with soft Northeast tofu^[2]. My good days are officially over, and I won’t be able to share any more recipes from now on. Goodbye Weibo, goodbye to my only 99 followers. QAQ”

Ying Quhe’s hand trembled, and he nearly dropped his phone to the floor.

The comments below:

【Xiao Niqiu】: Nani? Little Xi Mi, you’re getting married? What’s going on?

【Huajia Huanghuacai】: Is your family forcing you into marriage?

【Xi Xi Xi Mi】 replied to 【Huajia Huanghuacai】: The old man in my family is forcing me.

Forced marriage? What day and age was this, forcing a marriage? Ying Quhe frowned, the air in the kitchen seeming to freeze. Finally, the hot-blooded big boss impulsively left a comment.

【Culinary Dao】: ??

Xiao Niqiu reposted Ying Quhe’s comment: “Holy crap!! Culinary Dao commented on Xi Xi Xi Mi’s Weibo!! Those two question marks are so deep! I can feel how handsome Culinary Dao is right through the screen!”

Soon, news of this food blogger with tens of millions of followers interacting with “Xi Xi Xi Mi” set Weibo abuzz.

As a major Weibo influencer, Culinary Dao’s aloof demeanor drove his fans crazy.

Ying Shengnan, president of the Ying Group, was his fan. Qiao Shan, a famous internet matchmaker, was his fan. The pop queen Guo Fei was his fan. Yet he had never followed a single one back, never replied to comments, and had never even reposted a post.

His following count was 0, with only one secret follow: Xi Xi Xi Mi.

Now that Culinary Dao had suddenly interacted with a blogger who had only 99 followers, teenage girl fans, older women fans, foodie otaku fans, and fans of the pop queen all gathered to watch the spectacle.

“I feel so bad for President Ying! He’s a whole domineering CEO, yet Culinary Dao has never once replied to his comments. To think he can’t even compare to a little blogger with only 99 followers.”

“My heart aches for Qiao Shan! She’s a famous internet celebrity, yet she’s worse off than a small blogger with 99 followers.”

“Will you all stop pitying them already?! Save your sympathy for our queen!!! She actually fell behind a 99-follower account!”

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Xi Mi wiped her wet, tender little hands on her apron, pulled her phone from her pocket, and opened Weibo, only to find the comment section completely taken over by sightseers.

The discussion was in full swing, raging like a boiling hotpot in the dead of summer.

Most of the comments envied her for gaining Culinary Dao’s “favor,” but as she gripped her phone, her teeth practically itched with rage.

To her, Culinary Dao was a scumbag, a petty rascal, and a total rogue of the Weibo food world! Whatever recipe she posted, he would make, and what was truly shameless was that he actually dared to alter her recipes without permission.

Xi Mi received a direct message from Culinary Dao:

“Forced marriage? What era is this? Ever heard of running away?”

Holding her phone, Xi Mi wanted to curse: None of your damn business! A dog catching mice^[3], poking your nose where it doesn’t belong!

However, she had barely typed out the first word when Culinary Dao sent her a red packet^[4].

She casually tapped it open, and the red packet actually contained 9,999 Yuan.

Xi Mi was stunned. Due to her unique family background, she had never seen so much money at once. She tapped the screen with her finger, counting back and forth to make sure it was 9,999 Yuan and not 9.9 Yuan, before typing back in utter shock: “Bastard Dao, what’s the meaning of this?”

Culinary Dao: “Runaway fund. Don’t mention it. :)”

Xi Mi: “…”