At last, the car stopped in front of a quaint building with green bricks and red tiles.
Yan Xiaye tilted her small face, gazing at the black signboard with gold-painted lettering and the inscription in the corner. She asked thoughtfully, "Were these characters written by Grandpa Xu?"
"Good eye."
Jiang Chuan tossed the car keys to the waiting attendant and led her inside. "The ancestors of this establishment were imperial chefs from the Former Qing. Later, they offended those in power and the family fell into decline. In my opinion, their culinary skills are still unmatched in the Capital City."
Yan Xiaye nodded, overwhelmed, as she carefully examined the quaint decor and scenery inherited from the Former Qing era.
It wasn't exactly the optimal dining hour, yet the restaurant was bustling with elegantly dressed patrons, clearly affluent or influential. This confirmed Jiang Chuan's words and made one instinctively anticipate the flavors awaiting.
