Today's dishes were from Snow Phoenix Series, people in this age and era have only heard the legends of this cuisine. Now it's more like a myth, and no one in the world can make this dishes.
Yesterday after absorbing the knowledge of culinary sage scroll of Yi Yin she found out that it not only contains the knowledge of 5 lagends but also many extinct cuisines and recipes.
Today she was making 7 dishes
Snow Phoenix Braised Lotus Chicken, tender meat infused with sacred lotus and ginseng, once said to heal frostbite in wandering monks.
Velvet Jade Fish Soup, an emerald-clear broth with fish that shimmered like jade; legend claimed it brought clarity of mind.
Red Sand Crystal Pork Ribs, double-smoked over red dates and polished rock sugar, named after a famous desert oasis.
Moonflower Dumplings, steamed dumplings filled with minced chicken and moonflower paste, glowing faintly under candlelight.
Ancient Scroll Cold Noodles, marinated with fermented tea leaves and ancient grain sauces, wrapped like scrolls.
Nine-Treasure Glutinous Rice Cake, a layered sweet dish, filled with mystic fruits, nut kernels, and spiritual jujube paste, for dessert.
"Now mix it gently," Ziqing said, guiding Jianfang's hand. "Don't stir too fast, or you'll bruise the aroma."
Jianfang followed her movements with surprising ease, as if she'd done this before.
She paused midway and blinked. "That's strange… I feel like I already know how to do this."
Ziqing smiled to herself but kept her voice calm. "That's because you're talented. And this dish remembers good hands."
"Mom, could you take the prepared dishes out to the table?" Li Ziqing called out from the kitchen. "I'll just stir the soup a little longer and bring out the Jade Fish Soup myself."
Li Jianfang nodded without hesitation and immediately began carrying the platters one by one to the dining table in the corner of the living room. The warm fragrance of the meal clung to the air like invisible silk. Just as she placed the final dish and turned to call her younger brother and son, the doorbell rang.
She paused, frowning slightly, and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was only 10:30 a.m.—far too early for lunch by ordinary standards. But since today's feast had been prepared ahead of schedule to celebrate their good fortune, they'd decided to eat early. Still, visitors at this hour were rare.
Outside, as Feng Zhaotian stepped out of the sleek black Aston Martin parked in front of the modest courtyard home, he was immediately enveloped by a subtle yet intoxicating aroma. Unlike the earlier fragrance from the food stall that morning, this one was richer—deeper, layered with complexities that teased the senses and stirred his appetite.
The longer he walked toward the main gate, the stronger the scent became, tugging at something primal within him. His stomach rumbled audibly in protest, and he instinctively placed a hand over it, trying to compose himself. With a quiet breath, he lifted his hand and pressed the doorbell.
A few seconds passed.
Then, the wooden door creaked open.
A wave of warmth rolled out from within—both in temperature and in aroma. The fragrance that escaped through the open doorway was almost tangible, swirling with notes of spices, herbs, and something he couldn't quite name but found irresistible. Feng Zhaotian closed his eyes reflexively, drawing in a long breath like a man who had found water in the desert.
Standing on the threshold, Li Jianfang studied the unfamiliar man. She didn't recognize him, but his sharp, tailored suit and the gleaming luxury car behind him spoke volumes. His air of authority was unmistakable, but so was his hunger.
She was initially on guard, but when she saw his closed eyes and the deep breaths he was taking, her expression softened. She understood. That aroma—her daughter's cooking—had the power to disarm even the most stoic.
Clearing her throat gently, she addressed him with polite restraint. "Sir?"
The voice snapped Feng Zhaotian out of his reverie. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he was struck silent once again.
She stood there, backlit by warm morning light, wearing a simple apron and a modest dress, yet her beauty was breathtaking—elegant, fresh, and untouched by artifice. She reminded him of jade polished over years, or a quiet winter morning on a pristine mountain. For a moment, he wondered: Is she even human? Or perhaps... a celestial being disguised as a common woman?
He had seen many women in his life. His wife was among the most beautiful in elite circles. Yet even she hadn't stunned him like this.
Still, Feng Zhaotian quickly composed himself, careful not to linger on his gaze. He didn't want to make the woman uncomfortable. Taking a deep breath, he spoke in a voice that was unusually gentle for a man of his status.
"Hello. I'm Feng Zhaotian. I was looking for the owner of Li's breakfast stall."
Even he didn't notice how soft and restrained his tone had become—so unlike his usual commanding and strong tone.
Such was the power of beauty.
Li Jianfang raised an eyebrow, her smile polite but cautious. "Yes, that would be me, Li Jianfang. May I ask why you're looking for me, Mr. Feng?"
Feng Zhaotian offered a polite smile and said in a calm, low voice, "Ms. Li, I'm here to discuss something rather important. Would it be possible for us to speak inside?"
He kept his tone composed, but in truth, he was barely restraining his curiosity. The aroma wafting from within the house was growing increasingly divine, tugging at his senses with a tantalizing pull that was becoming impossible to ignore.
Li Jianfang hesitated for a brief moment. Lunch had just been prepared, and the dining table—laden with dishes—was placed directly in the living room. Inviting a stranger inside at such a time felt awkward, even improper. But the man standing before her was no ordinary passerby. The cut of his custom-made suit, the understated confidence in his posture, and the luxury vehicle parked outside—all hinted at a man of considerable status.
More importantly, she could feel curious eyes watching them.
A hushed murmur drifted from the alley nearby. Though whispered, the words weren't soft enough to escape her ears.
"Is that the father of her children?"
"He must be. Just look at him. I always suspected the boy's father couldn't be anything less than good-looking."
"Well, I'm not so sure," another voice countered. "Have you seen how Xiao An looks? That child's appearance is otherworldly. I doubt even this man is his father."
Heat rushed to Li Jianfang's cheeks. Embarrassment prickled her skin like a sudden chill. Her fingers curled slightly as her jaw tightened—not in anger, but mortification. She didn't dare look at Feng Zhaotian's face to see if he'd heard.
Of course, he had.
But to his credit, Feng Zhaotian merely stood there, his expression unreadable, offering no indication that he'd heard the whispered gossip echoing from behind the walls. If anything, his courteous demeanor deepened, as though determined to preserve her dignity.
Finally, Li Jianfang swallowed her discomfort and stepped aside. "P-Please come in, Mr. Feng," she said quickly, her voice stiff with restraint. Then, without another word, she pulled the door closed behind him, shutting out both the murmurs and the probing eyes.
As soon as Feng Zhaotian stepped into the modest yet immaculately kept living room, his eyes were instinctively drawn to the small dining table nestled in the far corner. But the moment his gaze landed on it, he froze in place.
The table—though humble in size—radiated an aura of grandeur. Every inch of its surface was adorned with dishes that looked as though they had descended from the heavens. He counted seven in total, each one presented with such artistry, such balance in color, plating, and proportion, that for a moment he doubted whether this was a home-cooked meal or an imperial banquet hidden in plain sight.
The faint curls of steam rising from the dishes carried with them an aroma that seemed to bypass his nose and go straight to his soul. The scents were warm, complex, and layered—savoury with subtle hints of sweetness, spice, and something else he couldn't quite name but found utterly intoxicating.
He didn't even know the names of any dishes—they looked like they'd come from ancient legends, recipes long thought lost to time.
His breath caught. Even in Beijing, he thought, at the hidden heritage restaurant owned by descendants of the Qing Dynasty's royal chefs—where he once tasted the famed Dragon Beard Imperial Banquet—none of the dishes had looked this exquisite.
Back then, each course had been prepared with precision and centuries-old technique, and yet—this meal before him somehow eclipsed even that. Through extravagance, through soul, heart, and a kind of culinary magic that defied logic. It was a peak of Chinese culinary arts, he thought.
"Mom."
Li Ziqing stepped out of the kitchen, carrying a porcelain container of steaming Jade Fish Soup. The moment she entered the living room, her gaze landed on the unfamiliar man sitting there. She paused slightly, her brows furrowing. "Do we have a guest?" she asked, walking over to the dining table and placing the soup down carefully.
Feng Zhaotian was taken aback once more.
Another stunning girl. And she had just called Li Jianfang "Mom"?
Earlier, when he'd overheard voices from outside the courtyard, he had assumed the woman might have a toddler because she looked older than 25. But this young girl appeared to be thirteen or fourteen years old at the very least. He found it difficult to reconcile her as a woman in thirties.
Li Jianfang, unaware of the swirl of emotions on Feng Zhaotian's face, smiled and quickly made introductions.
"A-Qing, this is Mr. Feng Zhaotian. He's here to discuss something." Then, turning to the man, she said, "Mr. Feng, this is my daughter—Li Ziqing."
Feng Zhaotian composed himself almost instantly and gave a courteous nod to the girl. Li Ziqing returned the gesture, her gaze calm and perceptive.
Soon after, Li Jianping and Li Zian emerged from their rooms. After a brief introduction, the entire family moved toward the dining table. It was Li Jianfang who extended the invitation.
"Mr. Feng, would you care to join us for lunch?"
To which he responded almost too quickly, "With pleasure."
He couldn't resist. Not anymore.
Though all of them were curious about the identity of their unexpected guest and the purpose behind his visit, no one questioned him during the meal. Especially not after seeing how he ate—slowly, reverently, as though savoring every bite like a rare, once-in-a-lifetime treasure.
And indeed, Feng Zhaotian was intoxicated. For the first time in his 38 years of life, he lost all sense of composure.
The complexity of flavors, the texture, the aroma—each bite sent a ripple of euphoria through his senses. His refined palate, accustomed to luxury and the elite menus had never known something like this.
Only after the meal—when everyone had eaten far more than usual and now sat relaxed in the living room—did Li Jianfang finally speak.
"Mr. Feng, shall we talk now?"
Her voice pulled him gently from his blissful haze. He straightened slightly, his tone now steady and respectful.
"Yes, Ms. Li. Allow me to properly introduce myself." He took a short breath, then said, "My name is Feng Zhaotian. I'm the president of Hongtian Real Estate, based in Wuhan."
At that, the room fell into a brief, stunned silence.
Even Li Ziqing, who rarely showed surprise, blinked in astonishment.
Hongtian Real Estate.
A name known in every corner of Central China. A symbol of prestige, wealth, and impeccable craftsmanship. The development of Wuhan—and much of the Hubei Province—was synonymous with the rise of the Hongtian Group. For most residents, owning a property built by Hongtian was a dream in itself.
It was Li Ziqing who finally broke the silence, her voice composed but inquisitive.
"Mr. Feng, how can we help you?"
Even in her past life, she had never come face-to-face with such a figure of influence.
Feng Zhaotian gave a soft sigh, not of defeat but of vulnerability—the kind that only surfaces when one lowers their pride to ask for help.
"Ms. Li, I came here today to ask for a favor."
He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing, "This evening, I'm hosting a very important banquet. Everything was meticulously arranged, every detail accounted for. But this morning, I received a call—our catering agency backed out due to an internal mishap. It left me in a very difficult position."
His expression shifted, and his eyes brightened as he recalled something.
"That's when I tasted the breakfast from your stall. The chicken wings and the porridge—my chauffeur brought them without much thought, but the moment I had the first bite, I knew." He looked directly at Li Jianfang. "I knew that this was the taste that could elevate my banquet to something unforgettable."
He took another breath and leaned forward slightly, his tone earnest.
"I know it's extremely short notice and I may be overstepping, but after having lunch here... I no longer have the heart to consider anyone else. I came here to request your help—but now, I'm willing to pay any price. If you agree to prepare the banquet tonight, I will personally make sure your efforts are not only compensated, but honored."