The sofa was, without a doubt, not designed for human sleep—this was the only thought that crossed Xiang Ri's mind when he finally stirred close to noon. His entire body ached, his back and waist sore, while his legs and feet, curled up for too long, were thoroughly numb. Despite the lingering exhaustion tugging at him, he forced himself to rise, unwilling to subject himself to further torment.
After freshening up, he casually turned the doorknob of the bedroom as he passed by, not expecting it to move at all. To his surprise, it turned effortlessly, and the door swung open.
A wave of astonishment coursed through Xiang Ri, mingled with an odd sense of warmth at being trusted. *Does this girl really have so much faith in me? Doesn't she worry that I might sneak in for a nocturnal ambush?*
Since the door was already ajar, he decided he might as well step inside for a glance.
The figure on the bed remained in a deep, undisturbed slumber, likely too exhausted from the events of the previous night to notice his presence.
Xi Ri's gaze settled on her peaceful, delicate face, fair and soft like porcelain. The longer he looked, the harder it became to tear his eyes away. He had never paid much attention to her face before, as there were other more captivating features that had always caught his eye. But now, seeing her like this, he had to admit she was no less beautiful than the actresses parading on television—perhaps even more so.
Maybe it was his increasingly audible breathing or sheer coincidence, but the woman on the bed suddenly stirred awake. Her eyes fluttered open, only to be met by a man's face looming close. Letting out a startled scream, she recoiled in shock.
"Are you thinking of calling the police again?" Xiang Ri teased with a smirk, his tone carrying a playful edge.
Realizing it was him and hearing his jest, Fang Yingying hastily clarified, her voice anxious as though fearing a misunderstanding. "No... no…"
"Well, that's good," he replied, his voice teasing. Was it his imagination, or had she softened considerably overnight? It spurred him to continue his jest. "But are you really so confident in me? Not even worried I'd sneak into your room in the dead of night?"
Fang Yingying avoided answering directly, choosing instead to deflect. "It's late. I should get up. Could you step outside for a moment?"
"Why not sleep a little longer? It's still early, you know." Despite his words, Xiang Ri had already started toward the door. Still, he couldn't shake the puzzling thought: how had she undergone such a drastic transformation overnight? Could his scolding from the night before really have worked some kind of miracle, turning a woman who once disliked him into a docile and agreeable companion?
As he exited, Xiang Ri closed the door behind him. However, the latch didn't catch, and faint rustling sounds drifted from within—evidently, she was getting dressed. Xiang Ri was left speechless. *This girl really doesn't guard herself against me at all, does she?*
Moments later, Fang Yingying emerged, fully dressed. She didn't linger but quickly left the room, retreating to her own quarters across the hall.
Xi Ri shook his head with a wry smile. Though he had questions for her, it was clear she was deliberately avoiding him. *Fine. I'll find a better time to ask.*
After idly flipping through television channels for a while, Xiang Ri's phone buzzed with a message. To his surprise, it was from the very secretary who had just hurried away.
"Would you like to join me for a meal?" read the text. Without hesitation, Xiang Ri replied with a succinct "Yes." Then he promptly got ready, ensuring he looked his best. A glance in the mirror confirmed his confidence—handsome to the point of perfection. Only then did he leave his room.
At the door, Fang Yingying was already waiting.
"Apologies for keeping you waiting. Shall we go now?" Xiang Ri asked with a gentlemanly air, feeling he had displayed just the right amount of charm.
"Yes," she replied curtly, stepping forward without another word. Xiang Ri felt a twinge of frustration—was it really polite to invite someone for a meal and then act so detached? Still, the secretary's transformation was remarkable enough to overshadow such minor grievances.
In Paris, finding a restaurant is an effortless endeavor. The city, renowned as the culinary capital of the world, boasts a vibrant array of dining establishments. From the humblest bistros to luxurious gastronomic venues, the streets of Paris are dotted with places that epitomize its grandeur and charm. Dining here isn't merely about satisfying one's hunger—it's an experience, a leisurely indulgence.
French restaurants generally fall into three categories: bistros offering hearty home-style fare, brasseries providing casual dining, and high-end gastronomic restaurants where elegance meets culinary artistry. The cost rises with the establishment's prestige, and reservations are often essential for the latter. Dress codes are also strictly observed—gentlemen must don suits and ties, while ladies are expected to wear formal attire or chic ensembles.
Xiang Ri had always loathed wearing suits. Besides, his current physique was neither as tall nor as robust as his "previous" self, making him even less inclined to don such formal attire, which would likely fail to meet expectations. Thus, he had a marked preference for casual wear—a choice that inevitably ruled out dining at upscale restaurants when Fang Yingying invited him out for a meal.
However, it seemed the secretary had no intention of taking him to a high-end establishment. The streets near the Arc de Triomphe were not limited to the famed Champs-Élysées; there were also numerous ordinary roads lined with restaurants of varying sizes. At this peak dining hour, one only had to glance through the glass facades to see waitstaff bustling about with brisk efficiency.
The two of them chose a small, relatively quiet bistro. As soon as they were seated, a warm and enthusiastic server approached them.
"Good afternoon, sir, miss. May I take your order?" asked a girl, likely around eighteen or nineteen, of East Asian descent. She exuded a faint, sweet aroma reminiscent of creamy cheese, perhaps a sign of her prolonged stay in Paris.
"Are you from Longguo?" Xiang Ri inquired, his tone tinged with uncertainty. If the server had been male, he would have been more confident in distinguishing between a fellow countryman and someone from Japan or Korea. With women, however, the lines often blurred.
"Yes, I am! Are you as well?" The girl's eyes lit up with an eager, hopeful expression.
"Of course! And so is the young lady here," Xiang Ri replied, gesturing to the secretary beside him.
"Wow, both of you?" The girl exclaimed in exaggerated Mandarin, her voice brimming with the delight of meeting a fellow compatriot abroad. "I actually thought this lady might be Singaporean or Korean!" Her face radiated excitement, as though she rarely encountered countrymen dining here. She quickly dropped her formal demeanor and began chattering with the uninhibited enthusiasm characteristic of her age. "So, what would you like to eat? If you're unsure, I can recommend a few dishes. Our most famous offerings include spicy pork chops, onion soup, pan-seared foie gras with scallops, caviar, and, of course, authentic Lyon dry-cured sausage. They're all absolutely delicious!"
"You've certainly made them sound appealing," Xiang Ri remarked with a faint smile. "Why don't you decide for us?"
As he said this, he glanced at the silent secretary beside him. The thought crossed his mind that, despite this being her choice of restaurant, he now felt more like the host entertaining a guest.
"Me? Decide for you?" The girl furrowed her brows. While she had merely been introducing the menu, being asked to choose on behalf of the customers put her in a bit of a bind. After all, she had no way of knowing their preferences.
After pondering for a moment, she finally made a decision but hesitated to sound too confident. "Alright, but if you don't like what I pick, please don't blame me—and definitely don't complain to the boss! It wasn't easy for me to land this part-time job while still in school."
"Don't worry! We're from the same hometown; we won't file any complaints against you," Xiang Ri assured her with an amused grin. *Are all young girls this shrewd nowadays?* he wondered.
"Alright then, please wait a moment." The girl offered a small bow and was about to leave when Fang Yingying, who had remained silent until now, suddenly stopped her.
"I'd like to ask—why hasn't Gan Hong been around lately?" she inquired.
"Hmm?" The girl looked at the striking woman with evident surprise. "You know Senior Gan Hong?"
"I've dined here before…" Fang Yingying replied, her voice trailing off.
Before Fang Yingying could finish her sentence, the cheese-scented girl exclaimed in sudden realization, "Ah, I know! You must be Miss Fang, right? Senior Gan Hong mentioned you when she left. She told me about meeting a compatriot from abroad, and I never imagined it would be you!"
Xiang Ri cast a sidelong glance at the secretary beside him. *So she knows someone here,* he thought. *No wonder she walked straight into this restaurant without even a moment's hesitation.*
Unaware of Xiang Ri's knowing look, Fang Yingying continued to inquire, "Where is she now?"
"Senior Gan Hong is about to graduate. She's been busy working on her thesis, so she passed this job on to me. I really owe her my thanks for that," the girl replied cheerfully.
"I see." A flicker of disappointment crossed Fang Yingying's face, though she tried to conceal it.
"If there's nothing else, I'll go prepare your lunch," the girl said with a lighthearted laugh, her demeanor now more natural—likely due to her connection with Gan Hong. With a spring in her step, she walked away.
"Are you close to Gan Hong?" Xiang Ri asked casually once they were alone, having already noticed the secretary's earlier expression.
Fang Yingying nodded slightly, her face softening as she reminisced. "She helped me with something very important. If it weren't for her, I might have..." Her words trailed off as a portly chef suddenly burst out of the kitchen, interrupting her.
"Oh, my goodness! Miss Fang, you're here! Why didn't you let me know? Or do you think old Lude's cooking has gone downhill?" the chef exclaimed.
The self-proclaimed "Old Lude" was quite the character. Though not particularly short, his girth was enough to equal that of three average men. His oversized chef's uniform barely contained his bulging frame, with his apron accentuating the ample rolls of fat jiggling around his waist.
His face was no less remarkable. While his features weren't entirely squashed together, they were quite close to it. Most amusing of all was his mouth, entirely obscured by a dense, curly beard that cascaded down his chin. From a distance, one might even think he had no mouth at all, just a furry lower face.
Yet what stunned Xiang Ri most wasn't the chef's appearance but Fang Yingying's reaction. The typically aloof secretary rose to her feet with a warm smile and extended her hand as though to shake his. *I must be seeing things,* Xiang Ri told himself.
If what he saw could be dismissed as an illusion, then what he heard next truly felt surreal. He couldn't believe that the stern-faced secretary was showering the chef with flattery—and doing so in such an irresistible manner.
"No, Mr. Lude, how could I possibly think that? In fact, you are the number one culinary master in all of France."
"Hahaha!" Old Lude roared with laughter, his ample belly quaking as he clasped her hand. "Oh, Miss Fang, you certainly know how to flatter. Old Lude has no choice but to believe he really is the best chef in France! Hahaha!"
Turning to Xiang Ri, the chef's expression shifted to one of curiosity. "Ah, Miss Fang, is this your boyfriend?" Without waiting for her reply, he continued, "What a fine young man! No wonder he's a match for someone as stunning as you. But, what's wrong with your hand? Oh, my goodness! Take an old man's advice—young people shouldn't act recklessly. You must take care of yourself; health is paramount. As you say, a gentleman should resolve conflicts with words, not fists, right? Look at me—Old Lude, 58 years young!"
Xiang Ri felt utterly overwhelmed by the portly chef's endless chatter. He now understood why this man could befriend Fang Yingying, the esteemed secretary—it was likely due to his relentless persistence and shameless flair for exaggeration.
"What's the matter, young man? Why so silent? Are you shy?" The chef chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh no, that won't do! You should be more like Miss Fang—say whatever's on your mind. For instance, you can declare, 'Old Lude is the number one chef in all of France!' Go on, it's just talk. Don't worry, I love hearing it from spirited young people like you!"
Xiang Ri cast a glance at the secretary, who seemed utterly uninterested in stepping in to rescue him. Left with no choice, he responded awkwardly, "Yes, yes… You, Old Lude, are indeed the finest chef in France." Yet inwardly, he marveled at the man's unparalleled talent for flattery—if there were a title for the greatest braggart in France, Old Lude would undoubtedly claim it. His shamelessness far outmatched Xiang Ri's own.
"Haha! You've got potential, lad!" Old Lude guffawed, his laughter making his hefty frame quiver. "Ah, do you know why I'm hailed as the number one chef in all of France? Well, it all began..."
"Excuse me, Old Lude," Xiang Ri interjected, determined to halt the oncoming tirade, "but we haven't even eaten yet. Surely you plan to personally prepare us a delicious meal?"
"Oh, don't worry!" the chef reassured, waving a hand dismissively. "The apprentices in the kitchen will take care of it. Their skills aren't quite on par with mine, of course, but only by a small margin. Rest assured, you'll enjoy an unforgettable feast shortly."
Instead of leaving, Old Lude removed his chef's hat, revealing a "Mediterranean" style bald patch encircled by curls. He dragged over a chair and plopped himself down, beaming. "Now, young man, where were we? Ah yes, the origins of my title as the number one chef! You see, it all starts with the history of French cuisine…"
"I know about that," Xiang Ri said abruptly, realizing he couldn't escape the overly enthusiastic chef. Better to take control of the conversation, he decided. After all, tormenting someone else's ears was preferable to suffering through it himself. Fortunately, his study of French history during his language lessons included a solid grasp of its culinary heritage.
"Oh?" Old Lude's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Go on then, young man! Tell me what you know. Don't worry about getting it wrong—I'll be delighted regardless. You're quickly earning my admiration, haha!"
Even Fang Yingying turned to him with a curious expression. After the events of the previous night, she'd started questioning her assumptions about this man. His actions during the plane hijacking—fearlessly facing armed criminals and subduing them with quick wit—hardly seemed like the behavior of a spoiled playboy.
Reflecting on her earlier impressions, she realized they had been tainted by her initial judgment of him as a frivolous womanizer.
Unaware of Fang Yingying's thoughts, Xiang Ri was busy organizing his memories. Spurred on by the chef's eager anticipation, he cleared his throat and began, "The story of French cuisine begins with King Henry IV in the 16th century. Before his reign, France was still in a primitive era of eating with bare hands…"
He paused deliberately to gauge Old Lude's reaction, noting the man's expression remained free of offense. Encouraged, he continued, "At that time, the concept of fine cuisine was virtually nonexistent. But everything changed when Henry IV married an Italian princess. Along with the princess came a retinue of Italian chefs to Paris. The princess herself was a skilled cook, and her influence transformed the French royal court's dining experience. Italian dishes gained widespread popularity, and table manners improved with the introduction of forks and knives."
"As Italian cuisine spread, nobles across the land began hiring Italian chefs to host grand feasts. This coincided with the Renaissance, which further fueled the flourishing of French cuisine. By the reign of Louis XIV, the king sought to reduce his reliance on Italian chefs by nurturing homegrown talent. He accomplished this by hosting national culinary competitions, with winners inducted into Versailles as royal chefs and awarded the prestigious *Cordon Bleu*, a tradition that continues to this day."
The portly chef couldn't help but applaud, his hands slapping together with enthusiasm. He had never encountered a foreigner so well-versed in his country's culinary culture. It wasn't enough to simply know French history; one had to delve deeply into it. "Young man, you truly astonish me! If it weren't for your yellow skin and black eyes, I'd almost mistake you for a native Frenchman!"
Fang Yingying, equally astonished, widened her eyes. For a fleeting moment, she had the strange sensation that there was no question in the world capable of stumping this man. Even the cheese girl, emerging from the kitchen, gazed at him with wide eyes full of admiration.
Xiang Ri might have claimed he wasn't pleased, but in truth, there was a trace of satisfaction. After all, he had only memorized that passage to impress the fools in his dormitory, never imagining it would prove useful. Were the conversation to turn to other matters, however, he would certainly embarrass himself.
"Ah, Miss Fang, I must raise a glass to your scholarly boyfriend!" Old Lude grinned as he took the wine from the cheese girl's hands and poured a glass for each person.
Fang Yingying's face flushed. This was the second time she'd heard him refer to the man beside her as her boyfriend. Seeing that he was pretending not to hear, she hastily corrected, "Mr. Lude, you're mistaken. He is not my boyfriend; he is my employer."
"What?" Old Lude's expression shifted to one of complete disbelief, followed by a tone of regret. "Good heavens, this is hard to believe. Honestly, I thought you two were the perfect match, a pair chosen by the heavens!"
A loud, screeching noise suddenly echoed from the street, interrupting the chef's loose tongue. His jovial expression turned to one of fury. "Damn it, they're causing trouble again!" He slammed down his wine glass and retrieved a baseball bat from the corner.
Fang Yingying couldn't help but furrow her brow and glance toward the source of the noise. The cheese girl was the first to react, swiftly darting into the kitchen.
The few remaining patrons, hearing the commotion, hastily settled their bills and left, leaving Xiang Ri to finally understand why this restaurant, unlike others, was far from crowded.
"What's going on?" Noticing the furrow in Fang Yingying's brow, Xiang Ri deduced that she likely knew exactly what was happening.
"A few troublemakers," Fang Yingying responded instinctively before suddenly turning to Xiang Ri. "Xiang Kui, I might need your help shortly."
Xiang Ri blinked in surprise. "Did you bring me here today because you expect me to be a thug for you?" he wondered to himself. After all, her sudden change of demeanor was suspicious, and anyone would question it.
"No, that's not it," Fang Yingying quickly explained. "I came here because I didn't know they were going to cause trouble today."
"Haha, just kidding," Xiang Ri grinned, realizing he had misjudged her. Yet, his curiosity was piqued. What kind of scoundrels could possibly make a seemingly good-natured chef reach for a baseball bat in anger?
"Ah, Miss Fang, and this young man too, you should head into the kitchen now. Old Lude can handle things here alone," the chef said, shaking the bat in his hand.
"It's fine, Mr. Lude, we're safe here," Xiang Ri said calmly as he stood up, his face betraying no signs of panic. Based on the reactions of those around him, he had a good idea of what was going on—some small-time thugs causing trouble. People like them were usually looking for a one-way ticket to their doom.