Chapter 23

After Wang Dong finished ordering, he watched Qian Jianing turn and head back into the kitchen and immediately relaxed. “So she’s really letting go of the fact that I offended her before?”

“Of course. Boss Qian is quite big-hearted.” Wang Kun took a sip of the complimentary drink from the shop, looking all content. “You know, this place is really great. It’s nice and cool, and the drink is even better than the bottled Arctic Ocean soda.”

“Absolutely. This little boss looks neat and clean too, not like Zhao Dazhuang, who’s a total slob.”

“Bro, when are we coming again? I don’t even want to eat at other places now. Who knows what kind of oil they’re using—those dishes always have a weird taste. Nothing as good as the food here.”

As the men chatted away, they saw Qian Jianing come out carrying a long tray with one hand, loaded with seven or eight plates of braised dishes. Without even glancing at the order slip, she calmly delivered the dishes to the correct tables and then turned back into the kitchen.

Wang Kun picked up a slice of soy-braised beef with his chopsticks and asked softly, “Bro, do you think this little boss can take on Zhang Hu? She just looks strong, but her arms don’t have much muscle. That Zhang Hu has actually trained professionally.”

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem,” Wang Dong said, glancing a bit hesitantly toward the busy kitchen. “Cracking a pair of chopsticks to dust with one hand isn’t just brute strength. And didn’t she look completely unfazed earlier?”

Zhang Cheng spoke quietly, “I heard she’s just a high schooler. What does a high school kid know about street fights with clubs and sticks? She might be underestimating how serious this could get. We should try to talk her out of it before we leave—I’d hate to see her get hurt.”

Li Qiang nodded in agreement. “Exactly. I heard Zhang Hu beat a guy so badly a few days ago both his arms were broken. If this little boss breaks her arm, how is she supposed to cook?”

Wang Dong’s face turned serious as soon as he heard that. A bone fracture takes a hundred days to heal, and she’d need even more time to fully recover. Considering how heavy that iron wok of hers is—it takes real strength to stir-fry dishes like that—she’d be out of business for a good five or six months at least.

He took a bite of the beef, slowly chewing. It wasn’t tough or dry—it had a unique chewiness and was very satisfying. As he tasted the rich, soy-infused flavor of the beef, Wang Dong made up his mind. “We’re going to help the little boss out. Wang Kun, go get some iron rods ready. Zhang Cheng, keep an eye on Zhang Hu’s movements. If we know when they’re going to act, we’ll be ready ahead of time. Say what you will, but we *have* to protect her arms.”

The guys exchanged looks—they were nervous. But thinking about how they wouldn’t be able to eat her cooking for at least half a year if something happened to her, each one clenched his teeth and nodded. “We’ll follow your lead, big bro.”

Wang Dong picked up his sour plum drink and let out a gloomy sigh. “Who would’ve thought I, Wang Dong, would risk my life just for a meal?”

Inside the kitchen, Qian Jianing was cooking while the Malicious Intent Monitor system relayed their conversation. When she heard what Wang Dong had decided, she cast him a surprised glance. He had looked plainly nervous when Zhang Hu was brought up, but he still decided to stick up for her in the face of danger.

“Loyal enough, I guess,” Qian Jianing chuckled softly and gave the dish of red-braised lion’s head meatballs a few extras. Once they were ready, she brought out two plates—one went to table three, who had ordered it, and the other she placed in front of Wang Dong.

The enticing fragrance wafted up, and Wang Dong shamefully swallowed a mouthful of drool, trying to resist the temptation before looking up hesitantly. “Boss lady, we didn’t order lion’s head meatballs.”

“I know.” Qian Jianing smiled gently. “That intel just now was really helpful. This one’s on the house.”

Wang Dong glanced at the menu on the wall and saw the price of the lion’s head meatballs. His eyes welled up with emotion as he picked up one meatball and took a bite, saying with an expression full of heroic sacrifice, “Wang Kun, get more bandages ready. For this lion’s head, I’m all in. I don’t care if I break an arm!”

****

After sending off the last table of guests, Qian Jianing locked the shop and went home. Li Wanzhen had just gotten back and was eating dinner. When she saw Qian Jianing enter, she quickly asked, “Jianing, are you tired? Maybe I should stop setting up the street stall on weekends and come help you out?”

“Mom, I told you, that’s not necessary.” Qian Jianing sat down and placed the pastries she’d brought back on the table. “I can handle it by myself. Having you around might even make things harder. Plus, Sunday is your best day for earning money—don’t let that go to waste.”

Li Wanzhen thought about the few weeks she’d spent running the stall and felt quite amazed. “You know, I never imagined myself leaving the factory to start something on my own. No wonder people call it ‘diving into the sea’—it really is a whole different world from working a job. It’s tiring, but I feel so energized.”

Qian Jianing grinned. “Bet you’ve already made a few years’ worth of wages, huh?”

“You bet I have.” Li Wanzhen set her bowl down, her face glowing with excitement. “I’m making a month’s income in just one day. The stuff I make doesn’t taste as good as yours, but it’s also cheaper than what you used to sell. And you taught me everything yourself, so while I’m not as good as you, I’m still better than the rest out there. Those who can’t get into your restaurant or don’t want to spend too much all come to buy from me—business is booming!”

Qian Jianing smiled. “Weather’s cooling down—cool noodles won’t sell well much longer. Have you thought about what to switch to?”

Li Wanzhen thought for a moment. “Mornings are easy—steamed buns, shumai, baked flatbread, wontons, any of those. I’m planning to get a motorized tricycle next. It’s faster and can carry more. It’s just the lunch and dinner options I’m not sure about.”

“Sell braised food,” Qian Jianing suggested. “You can prep everything at home and just sell it on-site. It’s less work and more profit. I can prep the soup base for you.”

Li Wanzhen stuffed the last bite of noodles into her mouth and said, “Deal. I’ll follow your lead—teach me next time.”

After chatting a bit, Qian Jianing washed the dishes and brushed her teeth before lying in bed. She had officially graduated from Ni Wuge’s training, and tonight, someone known for their elegant fighting style—with a fan, no less—was supposed to come teach her new skills.

Having loved martial arts dramas in both her past and current life, Qian Jianing was most fond of the white-robed masters who wielded folding fans and could defeat opponents with grace and a single move. To better match that image, she even held a folding fan in her hand as she drifted into sleep, hoping to bring it into her dream.

When she opened her eyes again, she was in the mist. She looked at her folding fan and smiled, running toward the small door. Pushing it open, she saw Treasure Bowl talking to a deity—but that figure’s back had nothing graceful about it whatsoever.

“Qian Xiaomi, you’re here!” Treasure Bowl excitedly ran over with his stubby legs. “I’ve invited an amazing god to be your teacher this time.”

The deity turned around at that, grinning at Qian Jianing. He had a round hair bun tied with red ribbon on his head, a red face, a long beard, and kept fanning his exposed belly with a Plantain Fan.

Though she hadn’t met him before, Qian Jianing immediately recognized him from the many divine tales and TV dramas she’d seen—it was Han Zhongli.

She glanced at Treasure Bowl, stepped forward quickly, and greeted him respectfully. “Greetings, Master Zhongli!”

Han Zhongli laughed and patted his belly. “You recognize this old Taoist?”

“I’ve read the legends about you, Master,” replied Qian Jianing sincerely.

Still chuckling, Han Zhongli pointed at Treasure Bowl with his fan. “I owed this little one a favor, so I’m here to repay it. But let me be clear up front—I can only teach you martial arts, not make you a deity.”

“I wouldn’t dare to wish for that. My greatest wish is just to protect my family,” said Qian Jianing quickly.

“How filial,” Han Zhongli nodded. “What weapon do you use?”

Qian Jianing didn’t have a weapon. Ni Wuge had taught her only hand-to-hand combat. While she could now punch through a hundred-pound rock with no problem, she had zero experience with weapons. She looked down at the folding fan in her hand and silently offered it to him.

Han Zhongli looked at her flimsy fan and shot Treasure Bowl a speechless look. “After all these years, you’re still as stingy as ever. Couldn’t you even bend over to pick up a leaf?”

Treasure Bowl scratched his cheek. “Even picking up a leaf requires bending down…”

Han Zhongli rolled his eyes and stretched out a large palm. “Didn’t you snatch a whole pan’s worth of leaves from my yard last time? Give me one.”

“You didn’t want them,” Treasure Bowl muttered as he pulled a golden leaf from his pocket, which shimmered under the light.

Han Zhongli tossed the leaf into the air. As it floated, he fanned it gently with the Plantain Fan. A golden flame wrapped around it. Moments later, the flame vanished, leaving behind a mini version of the Plantain Fan suspended in mid-air.

With a wave of his hand, the fan dropped into Han Zhongli’s palm. “It won’t summon any spells—it’s just a forged leaf. But it’s tough, indestructible by blades or bullets. If you ever face someone you can’t beat, whack them with this, and I guarantee they’ll be begging for mercy.”

“Thank you, Master,” Qian Jianing bowed gratefully, then whispered to Treasure Bowl, “I’ll bring you extra desserts.”

“Double portion,” Treasure Bowl said quietly, holding up two fingers.

“Deal.” Qian Jianing gave his little hair tuft a soft pinch. It felt delightfully squishy.

When Han Zhongli saw the red beaded bracelet on her wrist, he smiled and looked at Treasure Bowl. “You really don’t waste a thing—even saved the pits from the fruits you ate.” He tossed the fan at the bracelet; it shrank to pendant size and attached itself. “Just pull down to restore it. Hang it back up to shrink it again.”

Qian Jianing tested it twice—it worked like magic. After gaining familiarity, Han Zhongli began teaching her techniques suited for mortals.

Although rough around the edges, Han Zhongli had long become immortal, and his techniques carried a light, ethereal feel. Qian Jianing learned with deep focus. Despite her mortal body, she’d eaten fairy fruit, drunk celestial wine, and had no trouble leaping over two-to-three-meter walls.

When morning came, she opened her eyes and slowly exhaled. Glancing at the clock on her desk—6 a.m.—she realized Li Wanzhen had already left on her tricycle.

She got up, showered off the grime, and gazed at her mirror reflection while drying her hair. With arched brows, clear skin, and youthful glow, she looked even more radiant than in her past life.

But her looks didn’t matter to her. The scars of her previous life couldn’t be erased, even with a second chance. Now, what mattered were earning money and cherishing time with her family. The rest didn’t matter. Attractive or not, she no longer cared—she would never give her heart away so easily again. Once was more than enough for that type of pain.

Wiping her face, Qian Jianing adjusted her mood, exited the bathroom, and called out to Qian Guosheng and Qian Jiafeng for breakfast.

Crabs were in season, and Qian Jianing had steamed a batch of crab roe soup dumplings the night before—perfect for breakfast. The three of them ate four steamers full and left the house content. Qian Jianing packed the remaining ones in a lunchbox to bring to school for Li Xue.

As she passed by Meiwei Restaurant, she paused. Zhao Dazhuang’s business had been poor lately—he only restocked ingredients every two or three days. But today, preparing to host Zhang Hu and his crew, he had made an unusual early market trip, stocking up on fresh vegetables, seafood, and pork.

Initially, Zhang Hu scoffed at the idea of dealing with a female student. He saw himself as a big fish—small-time punks trembled at the sight of him—and taking on a girl was beneath him.

Zhao Dazhuang got lucky—his cousin Li Wujun had recently made a tidy profit from dealing lumber and wanted to open a karaoke bar. Zhang Hu had similar plans. The two clicked instantly and decided to co-invest in Zibo City’s largest karaoke hall.

Still fuming after being beaten by Wang Dong, Zhao Dazhuang had asked Zhang Hu for help, but was rebuffed. During a dinner with Li Wujun, someone noticed his bruised face and asked what happened. Upon hearing that he was trying to target a girl and had instead gotten beaten up, Li Wujun chivalrously offered to settle the matter for him. “Zhang Hu’s my bro. Leave it to me.”

Relieved, Zhao Dazhuang invited Zhang Hu to dinner. Though busy, Zhang Hu finally agreed to come that afternoon. As a show of sincerity, Zhao Dazhuang planned to close his restaurant tonight just to serve Zhang Hu and his gang.

He had just gotten off his tricycle when he spotted Qian Jianing with her ponytail. His face twisted with malice. “Heard you’ve become quite the talk of the town?”

“Guess so. I make good food. Can’t help it if others are jealous,” Qian Jianing said, giving the stack of empty beer bottles at Meiwei’s entrance a glance and chuckling. “Looks like Boss Zhao’s business is struggling. Maybe your cooking just isn’t cutting it?”

Zhao Dazhuang glared at her smiling face, itching to slap it. But remembering that Zhang Hu was coming tonight, he restrained himself. Better to leave this girl to Zhang Hu—he was sure that pretty face of hers would get a lesson she’d never forget.

As she saw the cruel glint in his eyes, Qian Jianing let out a chuckle of her own. She hoped he’d still be laughing by tonight.