Chapter Twenty-Four: In Truth, We All Underestimated You

By seven o’clock, nearly everyone had gathered in the kitchen.

In terms of aroma, the Spicy Green Pepper Chicken was undoubtedly the standout dish. First, vegetable oil went into the pan, followed by pork lard. Once the lard melted, chunks of chicken were added and seared, coaxing out the chicken’s own fat. The three oils mingled under high heat, and soon the entire first floor was suffused with mouthwatering fragrance—that was what drew everyone closer.

Once the chicken tightened and most of its moisture had cooked off, slices of ginger, garlic, pickled peppers, and Sichuan peppercorns were tossed in. This dish was all about color, aroma, and flavor—no fermented bean paste, no red chili oil. Its appeal lay in a bright, clear presentation.

The heat was cranked up, a generous splash of rice wine thrown in, sending flames leaping and leaving the onlookers wide-eyed. After the brief, fiery stir-fry, the dish was seasoned, and finally, sliced green and red peppers were added—just enough to awaken their fragrance but not enough to wilt them.

A glistening, vibrant Spicy Green Pepper Chicken was ready. The peppers’ aroma was perfectly drawn out, accompanying the rich scent of the meat.

Tang Zhichu could almost hear the sound of several people swallowing.

"Well… I think professionals should stick to what they do best. Zhichu, maybe we could trouble you to handle the cooking from now on? We’ll take care of everything else!" Jiang Lan spoke, her taste buds nearly watering at the scent.

“I knew you were good, but I didn’t expect you to be this good,” Zhou Yun chimed in.

Even Yang Jiaxing, who had little interest in Tang Zhichu otherwise, knew how to read the room and joined in the fun, chanting, “Chef! Chef!”

Chen Siyang didn’t praise him aloud, but when their eyes met, she gave him two thumbs up.

“I’m done with my dish. Lan, it’s your turn.” Tang Zhichu thanked them and ceded his place to Jiang Lan.

Jiang Lan gave a wry smile. “Me? How could I dare to go after that?”

Her words said one thing, but she was already rubbing her hands and stepping up to the stove.

Huang Zejun opened his mouth—he’d wanted to offer to teach her. But Jiang Lan’s earlier coldness made him hesitate. He’d gone back to his room and replayed things in his mind for at least half an hour. He realized he’d been offbeat and held himself back.

Tang Zhichu turned to Chen Siyang. “Want to learn?”

She nodded and joined him at his side.

“Lan, whether it’s sweet-and-sour or blanched lettuce, both require a sauce. Let’s start by making the sauce,” Tang Zhichu said. He was teaching both Jiang Lan and Chen Siyang, and meant it—he didn’t lift a finger himself.

All the ingredients were prepped; the sauce wasn’t complicated. For the sweet-and-sour, the key was balancing the vinegar and sugar—the sourness led, the sugar just rounded things out. For blanched lettuce, it was even simpler: focus on color, add minced garlic, scallion whites, and pepper strips, then pour hot oil to bring out the flavor.

Jiang Lan picked things up quickly, even faster than Chen Siyang, and did most of the hands-on work. But Chen Siyang had a foundation in cooking, and the two conferred as they went.

“Is half a spoonful of salt enough?” Jiang Lan asked.

Tang Zhichu nodded. “Enough for the sweet-and-sour, less for the blanching sauce. Don’t overdo the salt—it’s bad for the heart and brain. Blanching is simple, basically like a salad. Add oil to the boiling water to keep the lettuce green, and a touch of salt for a base flavor. That’s why I said less salt in the sauce…”

He explained everything in detail, covering both dishes. Once he was done, he went to wash his hands, leaving the stove in Jiang Lan and Chen Siyang’s care.

Watching Tang Zhichu’s retreating back, Chen Siyang whispered, “Is he… is he just leaving us like this?”

Jiang Lan looked a bit troubled. The two dishes were quite different, and a bit tricky, but she remained composed. “Don’t panic. Let’s review what the master just taught us…”

Hearing Jiang Lan address Tang Zhichu as “master,” Chen Siyang couldn’t help laughing. “You got this, Lan. I’ll help you out!”

“Alright, let’s start with the blanched lettuce—add water to the pot, then oil…” Jiang Lan ran through the steps in her head.

Chen Siyang, hearing “add water,” immediately brought the pot over to fill it.

Yang Jiaxing and Huang Zejun joined in with their own suggestions, just for fun.

Yang Jiaxing was there for Chen Siyang; he still thought he had a shot, or at least owed himself an answer. Huang Zejun realized his earlier pacing had been off—he’d rushed things and felt awkward seeing Tang Zhichu teaching Jiang Lan, but then Tang had brought Chen Siyang in, too.

Huang Zejun found his footing again. No need to rush—Tang Zhichu had Chen Siyang; nothing to worry about. If things didn’t work out, at least the audience wouldn’t be laughing at him.

After that self-review, Huang Zejun calmed down.

Only Zhou Yun leaned against the fridge, lost in thought, her gaze drifting toward the restroom.

Was he doing this on purpose?

Chen Siyang was also introverted, her usual style a bit aloof—always wearing her fisherman’s hat, giving off an air of distance. Zhou Yun had spotted that and thought challenging Chen Siyang was a safe bet. She had no allies; the three men were interested in her, but she couldn’t expect them to fawn over her until the show ended.

That was why Zhou Yun always stuck close to Jiang Lan. When the rooms were divvied up, during group gatherings—most of the time Zhou Yun sat beside Jiang Lan, acting intimate.

It was divide and conquer: build a good relationship with Jiang Lan, pull Yang Jiaxing over, and eventually, brother Jun would be interested in Jiang Lan too—it was only a matter of time.

That would leave Chen Siyang and Tang Zhichu in their own little world.

But Tang Zhichu seemed to be playing along, too.

He cooked with Jiang Lan, but brought Chen Siyang in. In teaching Jiang Lan, he made sure Chen Siyang learned as well, helping her integrate with the group.

Seeing Huang Zejun and Yang Jiaxing clustered around Jiang Lan and Chen Siyang, Zhou Yun bit her lip. Tang Zhichu, we really underestimated you.

This was the second time.

Zhou Yun had always thought herself clever, but for the first time, she felt as if someone could see right through her. And he handled everything so naturally, neutralizing her moves without even seeming to try.

When Tang Zhichu emerged from the restroom, he somehow carried a glass of water, didn’t return to the stove, but instead sat at the dining table, smiling as he watched the others.

His manner only reinforced Zhou Yun’s suspicions.

She began to wonder: was he really just a small restaurant owner?

“Is it ready?” Jiang Lan asked Chen Siyang.

The water was boiling, the lettuce was in, but neither knew exactly when to take it out.

“I think it’s ready?” Chen Siyang replied, looking confused. She could cook, but had never made this dish—she really wasn’t sure about the timing.

Jiang Lan gritted her teeth. “Alright, let’s take it out. The chef said to pull it as soon as the color changes—it looks like it’s changed.”

Huang Zejun leaned in for a look. “I think it’s done, too.”

This time, Jiang Lan actually glanced at him. “Alright, let’s take it out.”

After draining the lettuce, Jiang Lan turned to Chen Siyang. “Yangyang, you do the plating—I’ll toss the water and get ready to stir-fry the cabbage.”

“Okay!”

Tang Zhichu watched from across the kitchen, clearly enjoying the sight of the two beautiful women working together—it truly was a pleasure to behold.

Suddenly, he sensed someone beside him. Turning, he saw Zhou Yun sitting across the long table, directly facing him.

She said nothing—the dining area was wired with cameras and everyone wore discreet mics, so it wasn’t the place for private conversation. But Zhou Yun believed Tang Zhichu would understand.

The two had always kept out of each other’s way, and Zhou Yun had treated Tang Zhichu with respect. No matter what others thought of him, she’d always approached him with goodwill.