“What do we do now?” Chef Ge stood in the back kitchen, rubbing his forehead as he stared at the cold, uneaten dishes spread before him. His brows furrowed with worry. “Just look at this… so many dishes wasted. How much are we supposed to sell them for now? Even if Zhang Quan gives up half a month’s salary, it wouldn’t be enough to cover the loss.”
His voice trembled with frustration. That foolish man—he had just gotten married, his wife was pregnant, and money was already tight in their home. If he were made to compensate for this mistake, how would he survive?
But if no one paid up, the day’s pitiful sales would definitely catch the boss’s attention.
“Chef Ge,” someone called from the side, voice cautious, “how are we going to handle today’s issue? With such a huge deficit, the higher-ups will surely come knocking.”
“This has nothing to do with the front of house,” Gao Guihua added hastily, wanting to draw a clear line. “If there’s a fine, that’s Zhang Quan’s business. We had no part in this.”
“My sister-in-law’s right,” Gao Xianghong chimed in quickly. “We weren’t involved. It’s his own fault.”
Sun Lifang, not one to carry another’s burden, nodded fervently. “He caused the trouble, he should take responsibility. Don’t drag the rest of us into it.”
Zhang Quan’s expression darkened as each of them distanced themselves without a trace of sympathy. His shoulders slumped. A whole pot of shredded potatoes could’ve sold well. It was real money lost. How could he pay that back alone?
He turned his pleading gaze to Chef Ge, desperation clear in his eyes.
But Chef Ge looked away, his face cold and lined with anger. “What do you want me to do?” he snapped. “These dishes could’ve sold at least eighty servings—fifty cents each. That’s forty yuan lost.”
He paused, then added harshly, “I’ll help you cover a small portion—ten yuan. The rest, you’re paying yourself. Let this be a lesson.”
Zhang Quan’s heart sank like a stone in water.
More than half of forty yuan—that was thirty yuan. His entire monthly wage wasn’t even forty. If he paid thirty yuan, what would he take home this month? His wife would tear him apart when she found out.
He blinked rapidly, trying to hide the redness creeping into his eyes. “Chef Ge, please,” he said, voice trembling, “I don’t even earn forty yuan a month. If I hand over thirty… how will I live? I have elderly parents, and my wife’s expecting.”
Chef Ge slammed the ladle on the table, eyes flaring. “Zhang Quan, you expect me to cover your mess? If you hadn’t acted on your own, none of this would’ve happened! If Director Hong hears about this, you’ll be fired on the spot!”
Sun Lifang folded her arms and snorted. “Honestly, Chef Ge shouldn’t have helped at all. Some people are thankless. Even if you do help, they won’t appreciate it. Might even resent you for it.”
Zhang Quan glared at her furiously. “Sun Lifang, don’t act so high and mighty. You only got this job because of your family’s connections. Without them, would you even be here?”
That hit a nerve. Sun Lifang exploded. “Say that again, I dare you! I got this job on my own merit, unlike you, stumbling around here for four years and still can’t even fry a proper plate of shredded potatoes! You should’ve been kicked out long ago!”
Her words lashed like whips, and Zhang Quan finally shut up, swallowing his anger and humiliation. His eyes flicked to Xu Ying—resentment boiling beneath the surface. He had followed her cooking method step-by-step. So why was the taste completely off? She must’ve done something behind his back. This woman… truly had the heart of a snake.
In the end, Zhang Quan reluctantly forked over thirty yuan, while Chef Ge paid the remaining ten. When the matter was settled, Sun Lifang curled her lip and sauntered over to Xu Ying.
She murmured under her breath, “Chef Ge’s too soft-hearted. That Zhang Quan… he’s just a white-eyed wolf. Even if someone helps him, he’ll never be grateful. He’s probably still cursing us in his heart.”
She wasn’t wrong.
That night, Zhang Quan returned home and recounted the entire debacle to his wife. She burst into tears on the spot. “Chef Ge? If he was really helping, he should’ve helped us properly! That old man has no wife, no kids—he earns money every month for what? Yet he can’t even take care of you?”
She wiped her face with the edge of her sleeve and began fretting louder. “Next month’s almost here—how are we going to manage then? When will you get promoted to head chef? I’m about to give birth, and the expenses are only going to get bigger!”
Zhang Quan sat silently, his face growing darker with every word she said.
Meanwhile, Xu Ying stepped out of the restaurant after her shift and spotted a familiar figure waiting at the entrance.
It was Huo Chen.
He stood leaning against his bicycle, tall and composed, eyes sweeping over the front of the building as if searching for something—or someone.
As soon as he saw her, he straightened and waved. “Off work already? Let’s go.”
Xu Ying paused, curious. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to take you home,” he replied awkwardly. “It’s not safe for a girl to walk home alone after dark.”
She raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Since when are you this considerate? What’s going on?”
A flicker of guilt crossed his face, and he quickly stood straighter. “No reason. I just happened to be in the county. Figured I’d drop you home.”
She still didn’t quite buy it, but nodded anyway.
The two rode their bicycles side by side, the village road stretching quietly ahead.
As they neared the village entrance, Xu Ying spotted a familiar face. Her eyes lit up. “Yanran, thanks for the lunch invite today!” she said cheerfully.
Dong Wenzhong’s face immediately changed. “Xu Ying? Why are you here?” His tone was shocked—as if he’d just seen a ghost.
Beside him, Chen Yanran visibly flinched. The humiliation from earlier that day surged back like bile, burning in her throat. But she dared not speak. If Dong Wenzhong ever found out what his cousin had tried to do at lunch, he’d never forgive her.
Xu Ying, ever composed, flashed a cool smile. “Why can’t I be here after work?” Her eyes glimmered with amusement as she glanced at Chen Yanran, before turning and dropping a verbal grenade.
“Yanran, you weren’t feeling well earlier, so I left first. Hope you’re not upset. Oh, and thank your cousin for me—lunch was delightful.”
Then she walked away, leaving behind two people standing like statues in the dusk.
Dong Wenzhong turned to Chen Yanran, eyes darkening. “Yanran, what really happened at lunch today?”
Her heart pounded. Those eyes—sharp, probing—made her panic.
“I… I’m sorry, Wenzhong,” she whispered, tears brimming. “I couldn’t complete the task. Xu Ying was too cautious. She didn’t touch the water and only ate after we all did. She’s changed. She’s not the same anymore.”
Dong Wenzhong frowned. “Is that all?”
Chen Yanran immediately looked pitiful, her face pale, tears rolling. “Wenzhong… why would I lie to you? Do you think I’d let her off easily? She ruined my reputation. You think I’d let her go?”
He sighed, wrapping his arms around her, troubled.
“Alright. I believe you. Don’t cry.”
But as she leaned into his embrace, her eyes—hidden from his view—were anything but gentle.
They were cold, calculating.
Poisonous.