Chapter Eleven: The Wrong Approach

“Grand Opening! Everything at fifty percent off! Plus a complimentary plate of crispy wings!”

Qin Tian and his two companions strolled leisurely through the mall, intending to find a place to eat. Suddenly, they spotted a newly opened restaurant that seemed to be buzzing with activity.

“This looks like Master Yan’s place,” Shen Xiaoqing remarked, her eyes shining.

Qin Tian glanced up; the restaurant was named “Pine Forest Hall.”

He didn’t pay much attention to food, so he had no idea what kind of establishment this was. But seeing Shen Xiaoqing’s eyes light up, he guessed it must be quite good.

“Master Yan is here today as well! Each table can order one dish, and Master Yan will personally prepare it,” the hostess at the entrance said with a polite smile.

“Let’s eat here!” Shen Xiaoqing grabbed Jiang Yingying’s hand.

Jiang Yingying nodded, not particularly picky when it came to food.

“What do you think?” Shen Xiaoqing looked at Qin Tian.

“I’m fine with anything,” Qin Tian replied casually.

“Three of us,” Shen Xiaoqing said to the hostess with a smile.

Inside, the restaurant was tastefully decorated, exuding understated luxury beneath a cozy atmosphere.

Every diner wore a smile, at least proving the food here was quite good.

“Here’s the menu. You can place your order by scanning the QR code,” the hostess said, setting down three menus.

“Thank you,” Qin Tian nodded.

He leafed through the thick menu; a wide variety of dishes were listed, enough to satisfy every palate.

There were affordable stir-fries and expensive delicacies, catering to all levels of clientele.

“I want this stir-fried pork. Yingying, what will you have?” Shen Xiaoqing pointed at a dish.

The vibrant green peppers paired with fragrant pork slices looked truly appetizing.

“I’ll have the blanched mustard greens,” Jiang Yingying chose something lighter.

“Let’s get sweet and sour ribs, too,” Shen Xiaoqing nodded.

“And three portions of the hundred-gram beef steak,” she added.

“That’s a lot. Can we finish it?” Jiang Yingying frowned.

“That’s what he’s for,” Shen Xiaoqing gestured at Qin Tian.

“Order whatever you like. I suggest we start with a few dishes and add more if needed,” Qin Tian shrugged.

“Wow! This sashimi is so expensive! I heard it’s Master Yan’s specialty!” Jiang Yingying’s eyes sparkled, clearly tempted.

“Two thousand eight hundred? For just a dozen slices of sashimi? That’s outrageous!”

Though Jiang Yingying came from a wealthy family, she was always frugal and retained the sensitivity of ordinary folk. Anything over a thousand was expensive in her eyes.

“It’s not expensive at all! With Master Yan’s skills, that price is reasonable. You know, I’ve heard European aristocrats pay millions just for him to cook scrambled eggs!” Shen Xiaoqing exclaimed.

“That’s absurd!” Jiang Yingying’s eyes widened. Millions for scrambled eggs?

“What’s so strange about it? Just like buying clothes—many garments have similar materials and craftsmanship, but some brands sell for much more. That’s the power of a famous name,” Shen Xiaoqing explained.

“Let’s order one. It’s rare to have the chance; I want to see what makes this sashimi so special,” Qin Tian said.

“Spendthrift!” Jiang Yingying rolled her eyes.

“If living isn’t for enjoyment, what’s the point?” Qin Tian shrugged, then took out his phone to order.

Soon, the dishes began arriving. The service was efficient, but the sashimi was served last.

It was a large platter, but upon closer inspection, most of it was just decorative ice. There were about a dozen slices of sashimi on top.

“Wow! Wait, don’t touch it yet! Let me take a photo!” Shen Xiaoqing stopped Qin Tian as he reached for his chopsticks.

Qin Tian put down his chopsticks in resignation.

Ten minutes later…

Qin Tian propped his head on his left hand, held a chopstick in his right, and another stuck to his lips, wearing an expression of utter boredom. Ten minutes for a photo—girls!

“Miss, photo queen, are you done yet?” Qin Tian complained, feeling the ice might melt.

“Why rush? If eating isn’t for taking photos, what’s the point?” Shen Xiaoqing parroted his earlier words.

“…” Qin Tian was speechless.

Finally, after another five minutes, Shen Xiaoqing finished her photography.

“Let’s eat!”

Delighted, Shen Xiaoqing put away her phone, picked up her chopsticks, and took a slice of sashimi. As she tasted it, her face lit up with pleasure.

“Delicious!”

Jiang Yingying also took a slice and chewed, equally impressed.

Qin Tian picked up a piece and examined it closely, unable to tell what kind of fish it was, but it looked fresh.

When he placed the sashimi in his mouth, his eyes brightened; the taste was indeed excellent.

“How is it? Delicious, right?” Shen Xiaoqing said proudly, pleased with her choice.

“Yes, it’s good, but there’s something missing. He’s not slicing the fish correctly,” Qin Tian remarked.

“Not slicing it correctly? How so?” A man at the next table suddenly turned to look at Qin Tian.

“It’s just a little off,” Qin Tian replied.

“What a joke! Someone actually doubts Master Yan’s skills! Tell me, then, how would you fix that flaw?” The man stood up.

His name was Sun Jiarui, Yan Songlin’s apprentice. He had studied under Yan Songlin for years, and today, with his master’s new restaurant opening, he had come to show his support with friends.

To hear someone question his master’s skills—unbearable! He immediately stepped forward.

“And who are you? My critique of this dish is hardly any concern of yours, is it?” Qin Tian frowned. First, he’d run into an unreasonable traffic cop, now another inexplicable character. Was he cursed today?

“I am Sun Jiarui, Master Yan’s first disciple! Three-time champion of the International Culinary Competition!” Sun Jiarui announced proudly, head held high.

“So Chef Sun is here as well!”

Some had already been drawn by the commotion. When they saw the main figure was Sun Jiarui, their interest was piqued.

For seasoned foodies, Sun Jiarui’s status was akin to that of celebrities among fan clubs.

“So what if you’re Master Yan’s apprentice? Does that mean no one can critique your master’s dishes?” Qin Tian asked, frowning.

“Critique is fine, but how can you deliberately speak ill of my master?” Sun Jiarui insisted Qin Tian was ignorant about food.

“Ridiculous! Your master’s method is flawed, so the sashimi has imperfections. I’m just stating the facts—is that a problem?”

Qin Tian was annoyed; he’d really run into a fool.