Chapter Eighteen: Reception

The two of them didn’t use the main entrance, instead slipping in through the back door. The restaurant was closed, and the front was rarely opened when not in business.

In the kitchen, there were two blazing stoves for stir-frying, a large steamer for steamed dishes, and a long row of electric slow cookers for soups. Though it bore the name of a Sichuan restaurant, it had developed its own distinct style.

“Big Sis said she'd come by at noon, so I had them reserve a private room. Second Brother’s current round of chemotherapy is almost over—if he’s well enough in the next couple of days, he’ll be discharged for a bit. It’s not good for him to stay in the hospital all the time…” Wang Jun explained methodically as he organized the ingredients.

“It’s been tough on you lately, Jun,” Tang Zhichu said.

Wang Jun shook his head. “We’re family, don’t take it all on yourself. I’m here for the hospital side of things. The fact that you’re able to get out and connect with people makes Second Brother happy. He’s mentioned it to me several times.”

At this, Wang Jun’s expression turned conspiratorial. He leaned in, lowering his voice. “I heard from Second Brother that you went on a matchmaking show. How did it go?”

Tang Zhichu waved it off and tied on an apron, getting ready to help out.

“It was like a lamb among wolves—inheritances, business owners, even a gym owner. Not easy,” Tang Zhichu said with a laugh.

Wang Jun paused, taking a deep breath. That did sound daunting.

“I was worried you’d get taken in, but from what you’re saying, we’d be the ones taking advantage. Either way, we’re not losing out.”

Tang Zhichu glanced at Wang Jun. “When you put it like that, it makes sense.”

“Then go for it! Don’t hold back just because they’re bosses—after all, they’re women too, aren’t they? If they’re willing to go on a matchmaking show, that’s your opportunity.”

“I’ll give it a shot.”

Wang Jun rolled up his sleeves, taking the ribs from Tang Zhichu’s hands. “I’ll handle these. Could you fill a pot with water? I’ll chop the ribs and blanch them.”

“Sure.”

Half an hour later, someone else arrived for work.

It was Wang Jun’s apprentice, brought over from the hotel. When he saw Tang Zhichu, he paused in surprise, then quickly greeted him as “Boss” and got to work.

Tang Zhichu couldn’t recall his name, only that Wang Jun called him “Little Fatty.” He wasn’t particularly fat—about 1.68 meters tall and weighing around 150 pounds.

When Wang Jun was at the hospital caring for Second Brother Tang, Little Fatty served as head chef here.

Tang Zhichu took two packs of premium cigarettes from his bag, handing one to Little Fatty and placing the other beside Wang Jun.

Little Fatty looked at Wang Jun uncertainly, unsure if he should accept.

Wang Jun was a little surprised; the Xiaochu he knew wasn’t usually one for these gestures.

Yet Wang Jun felt a quiet joy in his heart. It seemed that after getting out and interacting with people, Xiaochu had matured. Life truly brings misfortune and blessing intertwined—the illness was a blow, but Xiaochu was growing up.

Wang Jun nudged his own pack of cigarettes toward Little Fatty with the cleaver. “Well, aren’t you going to thank your Brother Xiaochu?”

A smile appeared on Little Fatty’s face. “Thank you, Boss… no, thank you, Brother Xiaochu.”

Tang Zhichu smiled. “You’ve worked hard this past while.”

Little Fatty patted his chest. “With Jun giving orders, there’s nothing to worry about. The kitchen’s in good hands, even if my skills aren’t quite up to his. But I won’t let you down.”

With that, he picked up the cigarettes and turned to Wang Jun. “Jun, I’ll put yours in your bag, okay?”

Wang Jun laughed. “Passing on the favor—they’re all yours.”

Little Fatty’s grin widened. “Really? I’ll take you at your word!”

“If you don’t want them, I’ll give them to the others,” Wang Jun teased.

“Then I won’t be polite—thanks!”

Tang Zhichu pointed at the shelf. “There’s more. If I’m not around later, Jun, could you hand them out for me?”

“No problem.”

Wang Jun didn’t stand on ceremony—he knew what Tang Zhichu was capable of and that these gestures were natural.

Second Brother Tang’s illness was truly hard to predict, and sooner or later, this restaurant would belong to Tang Zhichu.

...

A little past eleven, a black private car pulled into the small parking lot next to Old Tang’s Sichuan Cuisine.

A middle-aged couple stepped out, followed by a tall, thin young man.

“Mom, why aren’t we going straight to the hospital?” the young man asked, puzzled.

Tang Xiuju shot Tao Bo a glare. “What do you think?”

The young man fell silent.

Tao Jianshe stepped in. “Bo, we’re here to see your Second Uncle, and also to discuss letting you learn the ropes at his restaurant. Maybe we’ll even help you start your own place.”

“What? But I don’t want to…” Tao Bo began, but before he could finish, Tang Xiuju glared at him again, silencing him.

...

Tang Zhichu’s memories of his eldest aunt’s family were vague. What stuck most in the original owner’s mind were things he loved, like singing.

Still, the Tang family relatives had always been generous. When Second Brother Tang opened the restaurant, he’d swallowed his pride and borrowed money from them—they’d all helped, though some more than others.

“My, Zhichu has grown into a handsome young man!” exclaimed Tang Xiuju the moment she saw him, her smile broad and a touch exaggerated.

Tang Zhichu smiled and greeted his uncle and aunt.

“It’s been a while. Why don’t we head upstairs? The dishes are ready. We can eat and talk.”

But Tang Xiuju grabbed his arm. “Why go upstairs? We’re just here to pick you up and go visit your dad at the hospital. We’re not hungry.”

Behind them, Tao Bo pursed his lips. In the car, his mother had said they’d check out his uncle’s restaurant and get a good meal, but now she’d changed her mind. Still, he was used to his mother being in charge.

“Auntie, trust me—let’s eat first, then we’ll go together. If you skip the meal, my dad will scold me for sure.” Zhichu kept a polite smile and looked toward Tao Jianshe. “Uncle, don’t you agree? Bo, come on in—private room number one, upstairs.”

Tao Jianshe nodded, smiling but unmoving, while Tao Bo looked to his mother for direction.

Tang Xiuju hesitated, frowning slightly. “Well, if you insist. Sorry for the trouble.”

Tang Zhichu took her bag without missing a beat. “What trouble? You’re family—my aunt.”

He spoke as he gently took her arm and led her inside.

Tang Xiuju’s smile didn’t fade, though she recalled her brother describing his son as introverted and reluctant to go out.

Where was the shyness now?

Far from it; Tang Xiuju thought Zhichu was more outgoing and polite than his father, who was a real rascal.

The thought made her whirl around and glare at Tao Bo. “Why are you just standing there? Go inside! Why can’t you learn from your cousin? Out in public, you act like a timid little girl—no energy at all. And have you greeted anyone yet?”

Tao Bo froze, biting his lip. She’s scolding me again.

Zhichu pulled him along with a laugh. “Auntie, don’t compare us—we’re both young, and we know each other well. Come on, let’s go eat upstairs.”

Tang Xiuju headed up, still puzzled. Is that so? He actually knows how to keep up with relatives now?