Chapter Thirty-Five: The Veteran of the Culinary World

Tang Zhichu went around chatting with everyone, and before long, things got lively enough that she started getting hands-on. The uncle from the hotpot restaurant was impressively built, with a backside shapelier than most women’s—he reminded her of that Korean actor Ma Dong-seok from her previous life. Tang Zhichu even gave his arm a squeeze. There was another uncle with a large, colorful tattoo covering his arm—a design she couldn’t quite make out, but the man looked every bit a legendary figure from the underworld.

Tang Zhichu’s generous compliments had everyone roaring with laughter, at least until a nurse knocked on the door and things quieted down a little. But when the nurse opened the door and saw a room full of burly men, she couldn’t manage a complete sentence, face turning bright red before she fled.

“Little Tang, not bad! You’ve brought some serious goods!” someone remarked, spying the things Tang Zhichu was carrying.

Tang Maode noticed, too, and was about to speak when Tang Zhichu set a ginseng root down in front of him. “This is for you, but the liquor isn’t.”

Tang Maode glared at her. He’d been happy seeing his son so cheerful, chatting with all his old friends—maybe the TV show had finally done him some good. But now, after buying the liquor, she wouldn’t let him drink it?

“It’s not from me, someone else gave it. Since all the uncles are here, I’ll have a drink with them at lunch,” Tang Zhichu said preemptively, not giving Tang Maode a chance to argue.

“Exactly! You think you can drink now? Once you’re better, you’ll have all the Maotai you want,” someone joked.

“Let it go, Old Tang. Health comes first.”

Tang Zhichu stepped back and pulled out her phone, dialing a number. “Hello, Brother Jun? Can you reserve Private Room One for us? I’ll need a table full of solid dishes today—we’ve got distinguished guests.”

Hearing her make the call, many of the men broke into grins. This kid isn’t bad at all!

After the call, Tang Zhichu turned to Tang Maode. “The current round of chemo is done, right? I’ll ask if you can be discharged for two days. But you have to promise me one thing—no drinking.”

With that, Tang Zhichu left the ward.

The group of men exchanged glances, their eyes full of appreciation. The fact that they’d all come, especially together, spoke volumes about the strength of their bonds. Seeing Tang Maode lying in a hospital bed moved them all. These were men who’d always faced the world without fear, but in the end, none could escape the shackles of time and their own bodies.

To gather with old friends, even just once, was a blessing.

“Brother, life hasn’t been easy for you, but your son isn’t half bad,” someone said quietly.

For once, Tang Maode didn’t retort. He just turned to look out the window.

After Tang Zhichu completed the discharge procedures, the group left the hospital.

In the parking lot, Tang Zhichu realized it was inevitable their family restaurant would succeed. The worst-off uncle among them drove an Audi. With a group of seasoned restaurant veterans like this, how could a small eatery possibly fail?

Tang Zhichu happened to be assigned to the Audi, which was driven by the uncle who owned a hotel. He was one of the slimmer men in the group, as Tang Zhichu had learned earlier—his surname was Yuan, Yuan Boshan.

“I’ll give you my number—memorize it. If you need anything, just call me,” Yuan Boshan said, handing over his card.

Tang Zhichu nodded and took the card. “Thank you, Uncle Yuan.”

“No need for thanks. Honestly, I’ve talked to your dad about you before. According to him, you’re nothing like this…” Yuan Boshan paused, then went on, “It’s been tough on you these days.”

Tang Zhichu shook her head. “It’s nothing, Uncle Yuan.”

Yuan Boshan looked at her, then nodded. “You’re a real man. Don’t underestimate your father, either. Among us, he’s not the most successful, but he’s the most loyal. Your mother might not understand, but you need to know—you’re his greatest attachment.”

Tang Zhichu said nothing, so Yuan Boshan continued, “Don’t think I’m just being preachy. That fitness-loving uncle of yours? Half the money for his hotpot place came from your dad. What your dad values isn’t always what others understand. I’m telling you this because if you ever need anything, you can call any one of us. As long as you’re not asking for the moon, we’ll all be there for you…”

Tang Zhichu gazed out the window, feeling a ripple of emotion. After a moment, she replied, “Uncle Yuan?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you all for coming to see my dad.”

Yuan Boshan was momentarily taken aback, then a smile broke through, his eyes growing misty.

He felt as if a new generation was rising to take their place. The old friends watched the setting sun, while their descendants looked toward the dawn—there was regret, but also comfort.

Old Tang’s Sichuan Cuisine, Private Room One.

Tao Bo sat nervously on his stool, timid as a young bride, only daring to pick at the dishes right in front of him. This was exactly why he was afraid of Tang Maode—not only did his cousin look fierce, but in Tao Bo’s eyes, his circle of friends was even fiercer.

It was the first time Tang Xiuju had sat down for a meal with her second brother’s old friends. She didn’t say much, but from snippets of conversation, she realized their family might have underestimated her second brother. To some extent, their clan had always looked down on Tang Maode, thinking he was idle, a drunk, a gambler—a man living on the fringes.

Now, it seemed perhaps Tang Maode’s own environment had held him back.

“Uncle, look at these arms—tell me, how did you train them?”

“Uncle, could you take a look at our kitchen later? See if there’s anything we should adjust. I’ll drink a toast to you.”

“Don’t worry about drinking, it’s easy to get a designated driver here. If you’re not busy, I’ll arrange it—there’s a nice hotel just next door.”

Tang Zhichu moved among these burly men with ease. Wang Jun proved to be the perfect right-hand man—changing out cold dishes, refilling drinks, and keeping an eye on Tang Maode all at once.

In the end, Tang Maode did have a drink—just one—and then leaned back in his chair, a broad smile on his face.

The lunch was a resounding success.

After several rounds of dishes and drinks, Tang Zhichu had collected seven or eight new phone numbers. When the meal ended, those who needed drivers called for one, those who needed hotels made reservations—all handled by Wang Jun, who hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol. With Tang Zhichu hosting, Wang Jun made sure to stay sober.

“Zhichu, I’ll head home for a bit, then come by later?” Tang Xiuju said at the restaurant door.

Tang Zhichu nodded. “No rush, Auntie. Let them enjoy themselves—it’s rare for his old friends to all be here.”

Some of the uncles hadn’t left, having booked a hotel to play cards, just like the old days. Tang Maode went along with them.

“Don’t worry, I know. I’m just here in case these old men can’t look after themselves. You do what you need to. If you’re worried, little Jun is here too,” Tang Xiuju said with a smile. Then she glanced at Tao Bo and added, “You stay here and see if there’s anything you can help your cousin with.”

Tao Bo gave a sheepish acknowledgement.

Tang Xiuju was more convinced than ever that coming to look after her second brother was the right decision—never mind the boost to her reputation. Her nephew Tang Zhichu was proving more surprising by the day. Surrounded by a group of seasoned old hands, he still managed to take center stage at the table.

Tang Xiuju wasn’t narrow-minded. She thought perhaps the Tang family had finally produced a real talent.

As for her own son? He couldn’t compare.

But she could at least make sure her son stayed close to Tang Zhichu.