Chapter 244: Happiness Is All About Comparison
He had come to Jingzhou to take care of some personal matters, but when he happened to see on Zhang Zuting's Weibo that there was a nice little private kitchen restaurant here, he decided to give it a try.
But now, looking at the situation before him, he was starting to feel rather annoyed.
"Then… can I make a reservation for tonight?" the young man asked, doing his best to keep his composure.
The waiter smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, sir. Tonight the entire place has been booked. Considering the time it takes to bring in the fresh ingredients, you can make a reservation for tomorrow evening or the day after."
The young man was speechless. He glanced at the waiter, then at the menu, suppressing his urge to complain. In the end, he ordered two dishes and one soup at random.
"That's it for now." He handed the menu back.
"Certainly, sir. Please wait a moment." The waiter placed the order and left with the menu.
The young man took out his phone to look up reviews for the restaurant online—only to find nothing. It didn't even show up on map searches.
To make things stranger, there was a little sign on the table along with the table number that read: "To better enjoy the natural flavor of our ingredients, please refrain from taking photos."
Adding that to the fact that the menu listed all sorts of exquisite dishes—yet every single one of the good ones required advance reservation—and the few dishes available for immediate order were just ordinary home-style fare, ridiculously overpriced to boot...
"...Could this be a scam restaurant?"
The more he thought about it, the more suspicious it felt. Something about this place just seemed off.
His name was Xue Zhebin, the only son of coal tycoon Xue Yuanqing—a textbook rich second generation. Like his father, he was loud, flamboyant, and made no effort to hide his nouveau riche personality.
Naturally, Xue Zhebin had plenty of money and had eaten at many private chef restaurants before. He knew that most upscale private kitchens tended to have their own eccentric rules.
But a place with this many rules? That was rare.
What really irritated him, though, was the waiter's attitude—polite to a fault, yet every word felt empty and meaningless, as if they were just following a script.
If not for the restaurant's lavish décor and Zhang Zuting's enthusiastic recommendation, he might've already slammed the table and walked out.
To be honest, it was mostly because his father, Xue Yuanqing, happened to be a big fan of Zhang Zuting. He'd even treated Zhang Zuting to dinner several times, which was why Xue Zhebin followed Zhang Zuting's Weibo in the first place—and happened to see the post about this restaurant.
Otherwise, there was no way he'd have come on his own.
"Fine, I'll wait. If the food turns out bad, I'm definitely posting an exposé about this place on Weibo!"
With that resolve, Xue Zhebin decided to wait and see.
If the two dishes he ordered turned out decent, he'd consider reserving a table for tomorrow or the day after.
About half an hour later, his dishes finally arrived.
One was Longjing Shrimp, another was Dongpo's Pork Pagoda, and the soup was Chrysanthemum Tofu.
The portions were small, but the prices were anything but cheap.
"At least the service isn't slow."
He knew Dongpo's Pork Pagoda was a time-consuming dish—it needed careful slicing and steaming—so half an hour was actually quite fast.
While waiting, he'd also tried a few dim sum and side dishes. They were surprisingly good, which had slightly eased his irritation.
"Let's see now—time to find out if this place is a scam or not."
Xue Zhebin looked at the two dishes the waiter had just brought.
He had deliberately chosen Dongpo's Pork Pagoda and Chrysanthemum Tofu—because both required exceptional knife skills and precise technique from the chef.
"Hmm? Not bad at all?"
Just the appearance of the dishes alone made his eyes light up.
For Dongpo's Pork Pagoda, the chef had to slice a whole piece of meat from the outer edge inward, making sure every cut was connected and every layer perfectly even—until it became one long, unbroken ribbon of thinly sliced pork. Then it would be carefully rolled and stacked in a special mold to form a pagoda shape.
The Chrysanthemum Tofu dish, on the other hand, required the chef to make 108 precise vertical and horizontal cuts on a block of tofu as smooth as jade, slicing it into a delicate cluster of fine strands—each perfectly even, not a single one broken. When placed in a bowl of clear water, it bloomed like a chrysanthemum flower.
Xue Zhebin had ordered this soup and the Dongpo's Pork Pagoda mainly to see if the restaurant lived up to its supposed reputation—or if it was just an overpriced scam.
As for the Longjing Shrimp, that was his safety pick, just in case the other two dishes turned out bad.
To his surprise, though, both the Dongpo's Pork Pagoda and the Chrysanthemum Tofu far exceeded his expectations!
These two dishes were all about knife technique—something that only a top-tier chef could perfect after decades of practice.
And what was more, both dishes had virtually no upper limit in difficulty. Take Dongpo's Pork Pagoda, for instance: the thinner the cuts, the more layers there would be. Normally, nine layers were considered passable for the dish. But the one in front of him had seventeen layers—just from its appearance alone, it completely crushed any version he'd ever seen elsewhere.
Unable to resist, Xue Zhebin picked up his chopsticks and took a bite of the shrimp first.
The shrimp were tender and smooth, infused with the fragrance of Longjing tea. Despite the dish costing nearly 300 yuan, he actually felt it was worth every penny.
He had once eaten Longjing Shrimp at an excellent restaurant in Hangzhou, and the flavor here was almost identical.
He then tried the Dongpo's Pork Pagoda and the Chrysanthemum Tofu—neither disappointed him. Every flavor was spot on.
Combined with the cozy, elegant dining atmosphere, Xue Zhebin started feeling that maybe he had misunderstood this restaurant.
To prepare dishes like these, they'd definitely need to invite a top-tier chef skilled in Hangzhou cuisine from far away. There was no way they could find someone like that locally in Jingzhou.
What's more, the menu didn't just feature Hangzhou dishes—it listed specialties from many different cuisines!
That meant one chef wouldn't be enough.
Hiring that many high-level chefs must cost a fortune.
Could this place even turn a profit?
At first, Xue Zhebin thought the menu prices were all inflated, but after tasting the food, he began to feel they were actually quite reasonable—maybe even a little too low.
Could they really make money off this?
The strangest part was how obscure this restaurant was. No promotion, no advertising—not even a signboard outside. In fact, even now, Xue Zhebin still didn't know the restaurant's actual name.
It was right in the middle of lunchtime, and yet the entire place was completely empty—he was the only customer there.
How could they possibly not be losing money?
He glanced at the dishes, then at the politely smiling waiter beside him, then around at the tastefully elegant furniture and tableware.
'Don't tell me… this place is a front for some kind of shady business?'
The thought made him instantly alert.
But after thinking it over, that didn't quite add up either.
After all, the restaurant wasn't a shell operation. The food was real, the prices—while high—were still within reason, and there was no sign of anything actually suspicious.
From every indication, the place was simply too unknown for its own good—nothing more.
"I'll come back tomorrow and try one of the dishes that requires a reservation," he decided.
"If they can keep this level of quality… then I've really struck gold!"
. . .
In the kitchen of Mingyun Private Kitchen.
"W-well? How did it go? Was the guest satisfied with the food?" Lin Canrong asked the waiter nervously.
The waiter nodded. "Mm, he seemed very satisfied."
Lin Canrong let out a long breath of relief.
"Good…"
Business has been slow lately—almost dead, in fact. Only since the day before yesterday had they started getting a few customers again.
Even so, most of them left quickly—some were scared off just by looking at the menu, and others left after learning that the best dishes required advance reservation.
Only two or three had actually stayed to eat, and those had only ordered simple home-style dishes. You could tell they were satisfied with the flavor, but it was doubtful they'd come back anytime soon.
Because the prices were simply too high, it was clear that most people just couldn't afford to eat here.
You could tell just from what dishes the customers ordered—here, even the cheapest vegetable dish cost fifty or sixty yuan. Even if you only ordered simple home-style meals, the per-person bill would still easily top a hundred yuan.
In Jingzhou, that was already enough to enjoy a very good meal elsewhere.
So even though the chefs here had superior skills and the ingredients were clearly higher quality—making the food far better than most restaurants outside—it was still beyond what the average diner could pay for.
But today, the moment Xue Zhebin walked in, Lin Canrong's eyes lit up.
You could tell at a glance that this man wasn't short on money.
And his choice of dishes confirmed it. Longjing Shrimp for over three hundred, Golden Dongpo's Pork Pagoda for around two hundred sixty—just this one meal came out to six or seven hundred yuan easily.
If a wealthy customer like that was satisfied with their food, then Mingyun Private Kitchen still had hope of becoming a hit!
After all, their target audience wasn't ordinary people—it was the rich. And the opinions of the rich mattered most.
Hearing that the guest had been pleased with the dishes, Lin Canrong finally exhaled a long breath of relief.
He was now the manager and no longer cooked personally, but every chef in the kitchen had been personally interviewed, tested, and poached by him—with, of course, President Pei footing the bill. Now that the food had earned praise, Lin Canrong couldn't help feeling proud.
"Manager! The customer has already paid and left—and he's made a reservation for tomorrow night's dinner!" a waiter rushed in, beaming with excitement.
"Excellent!"
At last, the stone hanging over Lin Canrong's heart fell away.
President Pei had told him not to worry about publicity, but he had still been uneasy.
Now, seeing that guests were gradually trickling in—and even wealthy ones were showing up—it meant the promotional work was quietly progressing behind the scenes.
Everything was unfolding exactly according to President Pei's plan.
From here on, as long as they followed President Pei's instructions and focused on perfecting every dish and every bit of service, Mingyun Private Kitchen's rise to fame was just a matter of time!
The chefs and waitstaff all felt their morale soar instantly.
. . .
"Ah-choo!"
Pei Qian sneezed, rubbed his nose, and set down his game controller.
He glanced at the clock—it was almost 5 p.m.
Tonight, he still had to host a welcome dinner at Mingyun Private Kitchen for Qiao Liang, to comfort his wounded soul a bit.
After suffering all day, Pei Qian was actually looking forward to checking in on how Qiao Liang was doing.
He arrived at the Moyu Internet Café.
Quietly, Pei Qian crept up to the second floor and peeked at Qiao Liang sitting in the corner.
The man's face was dark as iron, his eyes locked on the screen, both hands gripping the controller tight. His body kept leaning from side to side as if he were playing a motion-sensing game.
Suddenly, his whole body jolted, then froze.
The screen had gone gray.
Qiao Liang's expression shifted—from shock, to frustration, to despair, and finally to hollow-eyed confusion.
He placed the controller on the desk and tilted his head up toward the ceiling, as though questioning his life choices and the meaning of his own existence.
Seeing Qiao Liang's face, Pei Qian felt instantly at ease; a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Money well spent!
Bringing Qiao Liang to Jingzhou had truly been the right decision!
He'd been worried before—since he wasn't exactly a masochistic gamer himself—about whether he could even endure the punishment of "Turn Back Before It's Too Late."
If he ended up unable to finish the game, forced to lower the difficulty or delay the release, that would've been a huge problem.
But now, he'd found the perfect motivation to keep going—Qiao Liang himself!
No matter how painful or difficult the game became, as long as he could see Qiao Liang suffering even more than he was, Pei Qian would instantly be reinvigorated with fresh determination.
After all, he had Pudu (Salvation) to make things easier, while Qiao Liang had to dance on the edge of a blade with only basic gear.
Happiness, as it turns out, really is all about comparison.
Pei Qian felt happier than ever before.