Volume One, Chapter 20: Food Not Even a Dog Would Eat

In the dead of night, hunger made it impossible to sleep.

Somewhere, a dog began howling, prompting a chorus from the others, only for them to fall silent in unison as if by prior agreement.

Jiang Ning sprawled on the sofa, her mind empty and drifting toward sleep. Only when warm and full could one entertain desire; between eating and “doing,” her stomach had chosen the former.

She glanced at the clock on the wall—it was nearly three. All she wanted was a bowl of noodles, but Chef Lu had been holed up in the kitchen for forty minutes already.

Had she known the noodles would take so long, she’d have just made instant ramen. The holiday was over; tomorrow she’d have to rise early for class.

Patience spent, Jiang Ning straightened up, grabbed a cushion, and thumped it. “It’s three o’clock, man—are you preparing a royal banquet?”

“All right, all right,” Lu Cheng called from the kitchen, soon emerging with a steaming bowl. “Come quick!”

Jiang Ning sat at the dining table as Lu Cheng slid the noodles before her, his eyes shining with anticipation. “Try it, quick.”

It was a seafood noodle soup, with abalone, shrimp, and baby octopus, tomatoes, mushrooms, two stalks of greens, a sprinkle of scallions. The broth was pale and rich, and it looked promising.

Starving, Jiang Ning picked up a piece of abalone, blew on it, and popped it in her mouth.

The moment her teeth pierced the abalone, she felt as if she’d plunged into the ocean.

Not seafood, but the raw tang of the sea—natural, unadulterated, the purest form.

She turned from the bowl, spitting it out the same way it had gone in, only now it bore a row of tooth marks.

Lu Cheng frowned. “Not good?”

Jiang Ning wiped her mouth and pushed the bowl toward him, urging him to try for himself.

Refusing to believe it, Lu Cheng grabbed a shrimp with her chopsticks. Unfortunately, he noticed the black vein along its back and, without a word, switched to the baby octopus.

In the end, he reenacted Jiang Ning’s reaction perfectly.

Lu Cheng stared at the visually appealing but nauseatingly fishy noodles, baffled. “That’s impossible—I followed the recipe online exactly.”

Jiang Ning rolled her eyes, understanding now.

To her, recipes were like martial arts manuals: those who read them don’t know, those who know don’t need to read.

Still, to follow a recipe yet produce something so unpalatable exceeded ordinary culinary incompetence.

This wasn’t simply bad—it was spectacularly bad.

Jiang Ning went to brush her teeth, pausing to pat Lu Cheng’s shoulder as she passed. “Better call back your wild pup before you waste more food.”

She laughed suddenly.

With his cooking, even the dogs might turn up their noses.

Indeed, in every circumstance, one must rely on oneself. The moment she hoped to shirk responsibility and place her faith in Lu Cheng, she was doomed to a night of hunger.

When she returned from brushing her teeth, Lu Cheng was cleaning the kitchen. Jiang Ning leaned against the doorframe, watching his clumsy yet meticulous scrubbing of the stove, a strange emotion filling her chest.

It was unfamiliar, yet comforting and beautiful.

Her gaze flickered. Suddenly, she no longer wanted noodles.

She craved something else…

Lu Cheng seemed to sense her mood and turned, meeting her smiling eyes.

She wore a beige nightgown, reaching from collarbone to ankle, long sleeves included. Though loose-fitting and modest, it couldn’t conceal the innate allure in her bearing.

Like the largest, reddest rose in the garden—even through the fence, one could tell it was fragrant.

Lu Cheng hung the cloth, washed and dried his hands, then walked over, hooking his arm around her slender waist and drawing her in.

Jiang Ning neither welcomed nor resisted, gazing at him with a silent smile—saying nothing, yet somehow saying everything.

Their eyes tangled, sticky as sugar threads. Lu Cheng leaned closer, so near he could smell the freshness of her toothpaste.

Jiang Ning’s gaze drifted to his lips; she resolved that if he dared to take the lead, she’d dare to indulge.

The atmosphere was right, the mood set, everything ready. Just as things were about to unfold naturally, Lu Cheng suddenly smiled, lifted his chin, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

He laughed, “I just bit into an octopus.”

Jiang Ning froze, irritation rising, her smile forced and cold. “You can’t do this, and you can’t do ‘that’ either.”

She turned and walked straight back to her room.

Lu Cheng’s voice followed from behind. “Don’t be a slave to your emotions. Good night.”

Jiang Ning ignored him. But as the door closed, her fingers trembled faintly.

This man—sharp as a hawk!

That night, Jiang Ning dreamed of an intimate exchange on the home sofa, blurred and hazy, unable to see the other’s face.

She was like a boat atop deep waters, rising and falling with the waves, her body curling and stretching in turn.

In the heat of the moment, the other’s perfectly shaped hand slid over her, a broad, cool ring brushing her skin.

The man’s voice echoed, “Don’t be a slave to your emotions…”

In reality, her phone vibrated violently on the bedside table. Jiang Ning bolted awake, her face still flushed, a sheen of sweat across her brow.

Was it her age? To dream of such things…

A faint morning light seeped through the gap in the curtains; the seven o’clock alarm hadn’t yet sounded. Jiang Ning sat up, steadied her breath, and reached for her phone.

The screen showed a call from the old man. She answered, voice rough with sleep. “What’s up?”

“Did you get married?”

Xia Yutian’s voice was as robust as ever, now tinged with suppressed anger.

For a moment, Jiang Ning wondered if she was still dreaming.

Her wedding certificate post on her feed was visible only to family and Han Fang, no one else. How had the old man found out?

Seeing Jiang Ning silent, Xia Yutian lowered his tone. “So it’s true.”

Jiang Ning, feeling guilty, rubbed her nose. “That’s a long story. When things quiet down, I’ll bring a good bottle over and explain in person.”

Xia Yutian snorted, then bellowed, “Who cares about your wine—bring him over so I can see him.”

Jiang Ning replied, “We’ll see. Hey, did you close the order for that dowry chest set? Seventy-something is the prime age for hard work; don’t go slacking off.”

On the other end, Xia Yutian grumbled, “With the price you quoted, only a ghost could close that deal.”

Jiang Ning stifled a laugh. “See, I worry about you, afraid you’ll wear yourself out.”

A few jokes, and she deftly steered the conversation away.

Wine she could bring, but the man—not a chance.

Her relationship with Lu Cheng could dissolve at any moment; there was simply no need for him to meet the old man.

They chatted for ten minutes, Xia Yutian reminding her before hanging up to bring him over soon.

Jiang Ning got up to wash, still unable to guess how Xia Yutian had learned of her marriage. She checked her wedding certificate post, wondering if she’d set the privacy wrong, when a new message appeared.

Han Fang had sent a succinct invitation: lunch at Millennium Manor at noon.

Millennium Manor’s average price per head was two thousand; even a soda cost one hundred eighty-eight. In River City, it was among the highest-end venues.

Whether or not her professional skills improved after going abroad, her taste and spending certainly had.

Jiang Ning smirked and replied, “Okay.”

Last night’s rain had cooled the air considerably.

She picked a white dress from the wardrobe, fitted at the waist to accentuate her figure—gentle and elegant.

Since she’d be heading to work, she threw on a casual blazer, instantly transforming into office chic: stylish and warm.

She applied a sophisticated makeup, curling her bangs—making herself as pretty as possible.

When she finished and stepped out, Lu Cheng was setting breakfast.

He turned at the sound, unable to tear his eyes away.

Dressed up, Jiang Ning was dazzling—charming without vulgarity, alluring but not gaudy, her gaze shimmering with endless grace.

Lu Cheng complimented without reserve, “You look so beautiful. Should I put on some makeup myself?”

No woman dislikes compliments. Jiang Ning laughed and sat down, surprised to find all her favorite foods on the table.

Crab roe soup dumplings, sesame pastries with red bean, steamed shrimp with cordyceps flowers, and two bowls of porridge—one with preserved egg and lean pork, the other with greens and pork.

She brought the preserved egg porridge before her, stirring it to cool. “Be confident—even if you don’t wash your face, you could easily trounce the competition.”