Chapter 13#

This was the least cloying hangover soup Nan Shuyi had ever drunk.#

He had tasted the hangover soup made by the housekeeper at home and the one Zhou Yi’s mother made. Some were sickeningly salty, some were sour and spicy and stung the nose, and some had a strong fishy smell. Every time he drank them with a frown, and the effects were only so-so.

But the hangover soup he had just drunk had a slightly sweet-and-sour taste, though not strong. It felt like drinking a bowl of milky white fish soup without any fishy smell. The fish inside had been properly prepared. After drinking it, his throat and stomach felt much more comfortable, without any discomfort. He even wanted another bowl. However, he was not a greedy eater.

The Nan family was mainly in the food industry, so naturally, they also dabbled in catering. Having grown up tasting many delicacies, he had his own appreciation for fine food. Out of a full score of ten, today’s bowl of hangover soup could get a seven, which he considered above average.

Jiang Yicen asked him, “Can you drink more?”

Nan Shuyi did not stint on his praise for the soup: “The taste is pretty good. It’s the best hangover soup I’ve ever had.”

Chef Xu laughed and said, “We made the soup exactly according to Mr. Jiang’s method.”

Nan Shuyi looked at Jiang Yicen. “You know how to do this?”

“I don’t know how to cook; I just remember this method. I’m a theorist, not a practitioner.” Jiang Yicen spoke truthfully, then turned to the chef and said, “Please serve the dishes.”

Chef Xu and the manager withdrew. The waiters brought in the soup tureens and dishes. Soon, only Nan Shuyi, still savoring the hangover soup at the table, and Jiang Yicen, quietly arranging the bowls and chopsticks, remained in the room.

For Nan Shuyi, having a new person suddenly in his life felt a bit unfamiliar.

Ordinarily, at this time of day, he would be out enjoying himself with friends over a few drinks, attending some special event or party, or driving his sports car, playing games, or playing ball.

He had never lacked money or friends since childhood and was always seeking some excitement. After his mother passed away, he had even less purpose in life. Nan Anru was helpless when it came to him but, despite his frustration, was extremely indulgent with his son. He would scold him, but he never cut his allowance.

Nan Shuyi himself had never imagined he would go through a blind date and then end up marrying the person he met. This simply did not seem like something that would happen to him. But in reality, not only had he gotten married, but the other person was also a man.

Having eaten nothing all day, his stomach was full of alcohol. Now he finally had a hot meal.

Whether because he was hungry or because the food was genuinely delicious, Nan Shuyi drank the clear, sweet morel mushroom soup and ate the dishes that suited his taste. His intoxication faded, his drowsiness disappeared, and his fatigue was swept away.

Sitting opposite him, Jiang Yicen had very good table manners. He, too, had been hungry for most of the day, but his pace with the chopsticks remained the same as before, and he sat upright while eating. If one wanted to tell whether someone was putting on an act, the key was to observe their unintentional movements—one could not keep up the act forever without slipping.

Could Jiang Gongming really have raised a son like this? Probably not entirely, given that Jiang Yicen had spent years abroad. The Jiang family would not have put effort into raising a son they had given up on—unless Jiang Yicen possessed self-discipline, had his own goals, or had been secretly cultivated by his mother all along. But He Nuanqing did not seem like a smart person. Sending her only son to the United States and then sending him to form a marriage alliance with the Nan family—these two actions alone made it hard to think she had much brains. Her sycophantic behavior only benefited herself and the Jiang family, while Jiang Yicen gained nothing.

The Jiang family was never going to fall into his hands anyway. Jiang Gongming would ultimately hand over the company to Jiang Yiting.

Nan Shuyi kept these doubts to himself. Perhaps Jiang Yicen, like him, had reached some agreement with the Jiang family and was not marrying voluntarily.

“How did you convince Chef Xu to make this meal for us?”

The most surprising part was that he had even come up personally to ask Jiang Yicen whether the soup suited his taste and whether it was authentic. That was quite surreal.

Jiang Yicen said, “I went directly to the kitchen to find him.”

Nan Shuyi: “So he was quite easy to talk to. When our company approached him before, he wouldn’t even respond.”

Jiang Yicen had almost finished eating, so he put down his chopsticks, surprised that Nan Shuyi had voluntarily brought up company matters with him.

He asked, “Are you trying to poach him for the company?”

Nan Shuyi: “Mm. I even offered him the position of executive chef, with an annual salary higher than what he has now.”

“How much higher?” Jiang Yicen did not yet know the current salary levels for chefs. He did know, however, that the former head chef at Yongjiang Restaurant had been paid quite well.

Yongjiang Restaurant had one head chef, and different regional cuisines had their own chef supervisors. The executive chef oversaw all kitchen affairs, while the chef supervisors were in charge of their respective cuisines.

Most of the diners at Yongjiang Restaurant were old gourmands with very picky palates. They could easily tell when a dish was not made by a particular chef. They were experts, so the chefs could not afford to slack off. However, chefs who performed well at Yongjiang often left to start their own businesses. Jiang Yicen would try to retain them, but he also remembered their contributions to Yongjiang. When they left, he always gave them a red envelope. Those who remembered his kindness would send New Year gifts to the Jiang family every year—a mutual exchange.

In those days, Yongjiang Restaurant was not only renowned for its food but also held in high regard by its employees, who considered the owner kind and benevolent.

Jiang Yicen often remembered the Jiang family’s teachings: never disgrace the family name in public.

Nan Shuyi: “He makes about eight hundred thousand a year here. The price I offered him was over a million annually.”

Jiang Yicen mentally converted the salary he had paid his own restaurant’s head chef back then. Outside, a top chef earned roughly eight to twelve silver dollars, while Yongjiang paid even more.

“That’s a very high salary level, but—”

“But what?” Nan Shuyi just wanted to boost his restaurant’s performance as quickly as possible. He thought finding a famous chef to improve the dishes was the most important thing. Since this chef had been a chef supervisor at Yongjiang Restaurant, he should not make major mistakes.

Although Yongjiang’s performance had declined over the years, it was still a famous restaurant, and many people came specifically for its food. Nan Shuyi felt that to revive the catering company he was currently managing, a renowned chef was essential—at the very least, he could use the chef’s reputation for marketing.

Jiang Yicen also knew about Nan Shuyi’s current company situation. He had realized that when Nan Shuyi took him to the Cantonese restaurant during their last lost walk, it was actually one of the chain stores under his company.

“But what?” Nan Shuyi had only mentioned this matter in passing. He usually complained to Zhou Yi about work, but Zhou Yi was also a second-generation rich kid without such pressures. Their families were in different industries, so Zhou Yi could not offer specific advice. Nan Shuyi had not expected Jiang Yicen to give him any feedback.

Jiang Yicen said, “Actually, Chef Xu isn’t very suitable for Cuizhu Restaurant.”

Chef Xu was not particularly skilled in soups, and the most classic element of Cantonese cuisine was soup. A single dish could reveal what a chef excelled in.

Nan Shuyi became interested. “It’s true he doesn’t specialize in Cantonese cuisine, but he does have experience in it.”

“Are you only after his reputation?” Jiang Yicen thought for a moment. Nan Shuyi could not have failed to investigate Chef Xu. Perhaps what he valued was not the dishes Chef Xu was good at.

Nan Shuyi: “That’s one aspect.”

Jiang Yicen stuck to his original point: “But in the end, what keeps customers coming back is the dishes.”

Nan Shuyi: “For now, he’s the most suitable candidate.”

Jiang Yicen: “Maybe you should consider a bit more. After all, the dishes are the biggest factor in determining customer retention.”

Nan Shuyi had more experience in marketing. There had been many cases of restaurants becoming famous through marketing. To meet Nan Anru’s requirements within a year, he could adopt this approach—but upfront investment was also important.

“I remember you studied marketing management in college. Why are you thinking more about the dishes?”

Jiang Yicen thought to himself that he had never studied marketing. However, he had seen many books of that type on “Jiang Yicen’s” bookshelf. So that was his field of study. If he continued discussing this with Nan Shuyi, without any knowledge of modern marketing, wouldn’t he give himself away?

Actually, in their era, Yongjiang Restaurant—including the Jiang family’s factories and shops—would place ads in newspapers whenever new products launched. Different products had different promotional methods. For example, high-end snacks would be promoted by fashionably dressed women to children from wealthy families.

He was still in the stage of learning basic modern knowledge and had not yet touched product marketing. Besides, modern marketing involved many new technologies, such as advertising screens, celebrity endorsements, and live-streaming promotions on various platforms.

“Because the customer is the priority?” Jiang Yicen looked at the fresh fruit the manager had brought. “Do you want strawberries?”

Nan Shuyi leaned back in his chair and chuckled. The topic shift was so abrupt. He noticed that whenever he brought up matters related to abroad, Jiang Yicen would avoid answering. Had things been that bad for him overseas?

“I’ll wash them.” He noticed Jiang Yicen had been staring at the creamy white strawberries on the fruit platter for quite a while.

Nan Shuyi got up, picked up the plate, and washed all the fruits that needed washing.

Jiang Yicen had never seen cream-colored strawberries. While Nan Shuyi was washing them, he quickly looked them up. It turned out they were called white strawberries.

He took a small bite. The flesh was translucent, and the texture was like the jelly he had eaten before, with a milky fragrance.

Nan Shuyi, seeing him enjoying them, also tried a couple.

He thought about the bed he had slept in earlier with his clothes on. “Are we staying here tonight or going back?”

Jiang Yicen: “I’ll go along with whatever you decide.”

He had gotten married at his own restaurant, so spending another night here wouldn’t be a problem.

Nan Shuyi was a bit of a neat freak. “Let’s go back home. It reeks of alcohol here. Your luggage should have already been moved over.”

Jiang Yicen: “Mm.”

Although the suggestion was not abrupt, he himself was not fully mentally prepared.

Nan Shuyi glanced at his watch. “Eat some more fruit first. I’ll call the driver to pick us up.”

Since both of them had been drinking today, they couldn’t drive.

The temporary bridal chamber was, after all, temporary. Nan Shuyi would rather go home.

The driver was quite busy that day, having to send off all the Nan family guests who had come from afar. By the time he picked up Jiang Yicen and Nan Shuyi, it was half an hour later.

Neither of them spoke much during the ride.

Jiang Yicen was a bit tired, and Nan Shuyi was still not fully sober; his head was a little heavy, so he closed his eyes to rest.

After being stuck in traffic for over two hours, they finally arrived at the apartment where they would be living together from now on.

It was not a private garden-style antique villa like the Jiang family’s, nor a modern standalone villa. It was a two-story duplex penthouse in the heart of the city, where land was at a premium.

Jiang Yicen had never lived on such a high floor. As he watched the numbers on the elevator display climb higher and higher, he felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

The elevator stopped on the seventeenth floor. Since it was a duplex building, the highest floor here was the twenty-first.

Nan Shuyi unlocked the door with his fingerprint. Jiang Yicen was fascinated—the Jiang family always had people around, so they never used fingerprint locks. He had never seen one before.

All these novel technological wonders sparked his curiosity.

As soon as he entered, Jiang Yicen spotted a suitcase that had been sent over from the Jiang family. It contained mainly the clothes he had bought since arriving in this world. He had not touched any of “Jiang Yicen’s” original belongings.

Nan Anru had arranged for people to clean and decorate the apartment, so there were “double happiness” characters everywhere. Nan Shuyi had been staying at a small apartment near his office lately and hadn’t been paying much attention. Only when he turned on the lights did he realize that the place had been decorated way too festively—even the chandelier in the living room had red ribbons hanging from it.

On the table was a red tray, a red wine pot, and red wine glasses. The whole scene was so overwhelmingly happy that it was almost blinding.

Nan Shuyi: “…”

He shouldn’t have casually said, “Whatever.” They had overdone it with the red. He suspected Nan Anru had bought all these items himself!

Jiang Yicen, however, was not bothered by it. He was a bit tired and asked, “Where do I sleep tonight?”

Nan Shuyi picked up his suitcase. “Follow me upstairs.”

Once upstairs, Nan Shuyi immediately regretted it. He should have come up to check first before bringing Jiang Yicen up.

His black-and-white bedsheets and duvet covers had all been replaced with festive red ones. His heart sank on the spot.

Nan Shuyi stopped at the threshold of the bridal chamber. Jiang Yicen, standing behind him, asked, “Is this where we’re staying?”

Nan Shuyi, who had been about to turn back, redirected his steps from the guest room toward his own bedroom. “Yeah, here.”