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The grand opening of Taifeng Building didn’t cause much of a stir among the ordinary citizens of Beiping, but it created quite a sensation in the culinary world, primarily because of Ji Xue’s wine-soaked chicken in a clay jar. In just one day, a week’s supply was fully booked, and those who didn’t manage to reserve one beat their chests and stamped their feet, cursing their slow responses. Consequently, quite a few premium membership cards were also issued, leaving Wang Xiulian beaming with joy every day as she calculated the revenue, with the restaurant operating smoothly.

Xia Mushi fulfilled his life’s greatest wish, moving back to Fen Garden. On the first night back, not only Zhang Guanghang, but Jiang Feng and the others were a bit worried that the excitement might be too much and that he might pass away.

Luckily, what they feared did not happen. Xia Mushi was in good spirits and even had the energy to curse someone out. According to the caregivers, he was on the phone scolding someone early in the morning. They weren’t sure who he was scolding, but his voice was so loud it could be heard through the door, full of vitality.

Having the mood to specifically call someone just to scold them indicated that he was indeed in good shape.

During the lunch break, when Zhang Guanghang shared this with Jiang Feng, he was dumbfounded.

There was a moment when Jiang Feng thought of the old master.

“It seems that Old Sir Xia is really in high spirits!” Jiang Feng didn’t even know how to describe it.

Today was the third day since the opening, and the business was just as good as the previous two days. The reporters who were invited to the opening had their stories published quickly, and advertising space was bought on various group – buying and review websites, creating a favorable advertising effect that attracted many new customers.

It was up to Taifeng Building’s capabilities whether they could retain those customers or not.

Judging by the increase in the number of general membership cards issued over the past few days, the retention rate of customers was quite good.

“My master is just like that, straightforward and unyielding, not giving face to anyone, a sharp tongue with a soft heart, always speaking his mind, not hoping to please anyone,” Zhang Guanghang said with a laugh.

“Is he like that with you too?” Jiang Feng curiously asked.

He hadn’t had much interaction with Xia Mushi, only having met him a few times, but Xia Mushi’s attitude towards him was quite cordial, unlike the cranky old man described by Zhang Guanghang and others.

“It’s different with you all,” Zhang Guanghang said, as if recalling something. “Taifeng Building is also part of his memories, and so are you. Memories are always precious, aren’t they?”

“That’s true,” Jiang Feng agreed with a nod.

Sun Jikai was off today, supposedly moving house. He had been staying in a hotel and was now moving to a rented apartment. Coincidentally, the apartment was in the same complex as the one rented by the Jiang Family Members, making it possible for them to commute together in the future.

Jiang Feng was just about to discuss with Zhang Guanghang their plans to visit Xia Mushi at Fen Garden that evening when a phone call came from Xia Mushi’s caregiver.

The conversation was cut short as Zhang Guanghang answered the phone first.

The caregiver spoke loudly enough that Jiang Feng, sitting next to Zhang Guanghang, could clearly hear what was being said.

“Mr. Zhang, Sir Xia wants you to come over right now,” the caregiver said loudly on the other end of the line.

“Is anything wrong with my master?” Zhang Guanghang immediately grew anxious.

“Sir Xia is fine. He was still on the phone when I left his room. He just wants you to come over now. Two lawyers visited him this morning, but I’m not sure what it was about,” the caregiver explained.

“Alright, I’ll head over now,” said Zhang Guanghang as he hung up the phone.

“Go ahead, and if you’re busy later, don’t worry about coming back. We can just take your menu off the rack,” Jiang Feng said.

Zhang Guanghang nodded, grabbed his phone, and left.

Ji Yue was sitting at a table not far from them, drawing a draft and admiring Zhang Guanghang’s face up close. Seeing him leave so suddenly, she put down her brush and walked over to Jiang Feng.

“Why did Zhang Guanghang leave? Is he only working half a day today?” Ji Yue asked.

“Old Sir Xia needs him for something so he’s gone to Fen Garden,” Jiang Feng noticed Ji Yue drawing next to them and asked, “Why aren’t you using a digital tablet?”

“It’s not a commissioned piece, it’s a comic for Taifeng Building,” Ji Yue explained. “I showed it to you before, remember? I think it was Zhang Guanghang who suggested it. I did some research, and apparently some restaurants abroad do this kind of promotion. The comics they create are quite good-looking, and some places even produce merchandise and mascots. I’m taking a break from commissions this month, so I’m just tinkering with it.” Jiang Feng didn’t expect Ji Yue to be so invested in the project and got curious, “How is it going? Got any ideas yet?”

Ji Yue shook her head, looking just like she did when she was rushing deadlines.

“No, I have no clue what to draw or even what style to use. Mainly because I’ve never done comics, so I can’t think of a plot. I’m just drawing aimlessly, maybe one day I’ll come up with a brilliant storyline,” Ji Yue started to daydream as she spoke, “Then my comic will become popular, get picked up by publishers, sweep across the globe, earning me millions a year, and I’ll become a famous female comic artist, marry a rich and handsome guy, and reach the pinnacle of life!”

Jiang Feng:…

Ji Yue’s penchant for daydreaming does seem quite fitting for a comic artist.

“What kind of storyline do you want? Do you need me to brainstorm with you?” Jiang Feng asked.

“You? No thanks, it would be different if Wang Hao brainstormed with me. Besides, I don’t know what kind of plot to have, but it has to be related to Taifeng Building, right? This restaurant has been passed down since the Republic era; are there any exciting love stories or tales of intrigue and power struggles you could share with me?” Ji Yue’s eyes lit up, “Taifeng Building must have had its share of stories over all the years it’s been open, right? Do you know any interesting stories?”

Jiang Feng was taken aback.

Seeing Jiang Feng’s expression, Ji Yue immediately got excited, “Did you think of something?”

“I did think of something, but it’s not a story about Taifeng Building,” Jiang Feng said.

“What is it?”

“It’s about the story of a dish.”

“A dish?” Ji Yue thought for a moment, “We’re creating a promotional comic for the restaurant, so it doesn’t seem wrong to draw about dishes, but can a dish have a story? I don’t know how to cook, so if I were to draw a comic about you guys cooking or learning recipes, I doubt anyone would read it.”

Ji Yue wasn’t lying; she had worked at Healthy Stir-fry Restaurant for almost a year and had only learned how to eat and recognize ingredients, theoretical Mount Everest but practical Tarim Basin.

“I’m not sure if it can be made into a comic, but let me just tell you about it. It’s the story of that wonton soup you said tasted so bad, it made you cry the moment you tasted it,” Jiang Feng recalled the memory he first had of Jiang Huiqin and Li Mingyi, organizing his thoughts.

“My great-aunt, her name was Jiang Huiqin…”