Everyone was stunned.
For a long moment, silence filled the room. No one could quite believe what they had just heard. It sounded too surreal, like something out of a dream.
Li Jianfang, in particular, felt as if reality had bent around her overnight. Only yesterday, she had discovered that her daughter possessed extraordinary culinary talent. Today, they had made an unprecedented profit from their small breakfast stall. And now, before the day had even ended, someone had arrived at their door, willing to pay any price for their cooking at a grand banquet.
The silence grew heavy, bordering on awkward.
Feng Zhaotian shifted slightly in his seat, unsettled by their reaction. He was no stranger to the temperamental nature of gifted individuals. The more talented a person, the more eccentric they often were. Otherwise, why would someone with such legendary skill live in a modest home in the Northern District and operate a humble breakfast stall?
If Li Ziqing could hear his thoughts, she would've laughed out loud. Legendary? Eccentric? If only he knew the truth.
Seeing the hesitation still lingering in the room, Feng Zhaotian drew in a quiet breath and said with rare humility, "Ms. Li, this is a sincere and humble request. This banquet tonight is extremely important to me. Officials from the provincial government, influential businessmen from Wuhan, even some from Shanghai will be attending. If I fail to provide a banquet worthy of their status… it would be an irreparable blow to my reputation."
His words carried weight, sincerity, and desperation.
Finally, his tone seemed to awaken the rest from their stupor. Li Jianfang glanced at her daughter, silently seeking her opinion. It was, after all, her daughter's call—only she had the skill to deliver what this man sought.
Li Ziqing met her mother's eyes, then turned to Feng Zhaotian. Her voice was calm and focused, "Mr. Feng, how many guests will be attending the banquet?"
Feng Zhaotian was slightly surprised that such a young girl was taking the lead in the discussion, but he answered without hesitation, "Around two hundred."
Li Ziqing gave a slight nod. "What kind of dishes would you like us to prepare?"
Instead of answering directly, Feng Zhaotian looked at her with a faint smile. "So… does that mean you accept my request?"
Li Jianfang spoke up this time, her tone respectful but warm. "Mr. Feng, my daughter has studied under a revered master. She's the one behind the dishes you tasted. If she agrees, then we have no objection."
Feng Zhaotian was stunned once again—but he was slowly growing accustomed to surprises in this household. He looked at the girl before him, as if seeing her for the first time. She was calm, poised, and exuded a quiet confidence that far exceeded her age.
Li Ziqing nodded. "I agree, Mr. Feng. I will prepare the food for your banquet. Don't worry—it will be a night your guests will never forget."
She had two reasons for accepting. First, it aligned with her system's mission. Second, establishing a relationship with someone like Feng Zhaotian—president of the renowned Hongtian Real Estate—was a rare opportunity, even in her past life.
Feng Zhaotian's eyes gleamed with gratitude, but curiosity quickly returned to his face. "Ms. Li, may I ask... what was the food we had for lunch? The flavors were completely unfamiliar—beyond anything I've experienced, even in five-star establishments."
Li Ziqing smiled faintly. "That was from the Snow Phoenix Cuisine—a legendary culinary tradition mentioned only in ancient folklore. A mythical series of dishes."
"What?!" Feng Zhaotian's voice echoed through the living room.
He stared at her, utterly thunderstruck. Snow Phoenix Cuisine? That wasn't just rare—it was mythical. Every child had heard stories about it, but he had never imagined such dishes truly existed, much less that he had eaten seven of them.
The shock on his face was almost comical.
Li Ziqing, unfazed, said calmly, "Mr. Feng, we don't have time to waste. Let's move to the details. What kind of menu would you prefer? If you're unsure, I can make the selection myself."
Snapping out of his daze, Feng Zhaotian nodded hastily. "Yes, yes. I trust your judgment completely. My wife will join you later to finalize the event preparations."
They discussed a few logistical details. Since their home kitchen wasn't suitable for preparing food on such a large scale, and they lacked professional equipment, they ultimately decided to use the kitchen at Feng Zhaotian's private residence.
Before leaving, he provided the address, handed over an advance payment for purchasing ingredients, and departed with a rare, satisfied smile on his face.
Today had turned out far better than he had ever expected.
----
Once Feng Zhaotian departed, the living room fell into a thoughtful hush.
The three family members—Li Jianfang, Li Zian, and Li Jianping—turned their gazes toward Li Ziqing, each wearing a different expression. Concern, awe, and hesitation flickered across their faces like ripples in still water. They didn't speak immediately. Nor did Li Ziqing. She stood with a calm composure, allowing them the space to process what had just transpired.
Finally, Li Zian broke the silence.
"A'Qing… are you really sure about this?" he asked, his brows furrowed. "This isn't just making breakfast for neighbors or selling buns at the morning stall. We're talking about preparing a feast for the true elite. Top government officials. Tycoons. Big names."
Li Ziqing looked at her brother, then at her mother and Uncle. Her voice, though gentle, carried firm conviction.
"Brother, Mom, Uncle… don't worry. I know exactly what I'm doing," she said confidently. "I've already decided on the menu. Didn't you hear him? He said he's willing to pay any price if we can satisfy his guests. This is more than just a job—it's our first real breakthrough."
She paused and looked at each of them, letting the weight of her words settle.
"If things go well, this banquet could mark the beginning of our future. When our restaurant opens someday, these people could become our long-term patrons. Connections like this are rare—and invaluable."
Her reasoning was sound, and her certainty was infectious. One by one, they nodded in agreement. Their doubts hadn't vanished entirely, but her unwavering resolve gave them something solid to hold on to.
Without wasting further time, they set out together toward the Central District Market. The bustling heart of the city was alive with vendors shouting prices, the scent of fresh produce and spices filling the air, and crowds moving like waves through the maze of stalls.
Li Ziqing led the way with practiced efficiency, selecting high-quality ingredients with a sharp eye—rare mushrooms, pristine seafood, aged vinegar, specialty meats, and fresh herbs that only came from mountain regions. She moved like someone who had done this all her life.
By the time they finished purchasing everything, the sun was already leaning westward. Outside the market, a sleek black SUV was waiting for them, its polished body gleaming under the sunlight. The driver, dressed in a sharp uniform, quickly stepped forward and opened the trunk. Four bodyguards in discreet suits appeared silently, efficiently taking the bags from the family and loading them into the vehicle.
Li Zian stared at the car in awe. "That's at least a million-yuan ride…"
Li Jianfang elbowed him gently, but her own surprise was evident.
Soon, the SUV glided smoothly through the city traffic, leaving behind the Central District and heading toward the Southern District—one of the most affluent areas in the city.
After about forty minutes, the car turned off the main road and onto a private, stone-paved driveway flanked by manicured hedges and ornamental lanterns. At the end of the path stood Feng Zhaotian's villa.
It wasn't sprawling or ostentatious, but it exuded an air of restrained luxury and refined taste.
The two-story villa was designed in a blend of modern and classical Chinese aesthetics. The grey-tiled roof had gentle eaves that curved like a scholar's brushstroke, while the main entrance boasted polished sandalwood doors inlaid with brass motifs of cranes and clouds. The exterior walls were a soothing shade of ash
Despite its modest size, the villa was a clear testament to wealth—not the kind that needed to shout, but the kind that had nothing to prove.
As they stepped out of the SUV, family butler emerged from the villa to greet them. He bowed slightly. "Ms. Li, Mr. Feng has instructed me to assist you with whatever you need. The kitchen has been prepared according to your specifications."
Li Ziqing nodded with quiet gratitude and followed them inside, the rest of the family trailing behind, still taking in the surroundings with wide eyes.
Inside, the villa was equally tasteful—polished marble floors, delicate wooden carvings, walls decorated with ink wash paintings, and the faint scent of sandalwood lingering in the air. The kitchen was spacious, state-of-the-art, and spotless, outfitted with both traditional Chinese cooking tools and high-end Western appliances.
---
A low purr of an engine echoed through the courtyard as a gleaming pearl-white Maserati slowly pulled into Feng Zhaotian's villa. The vehicle came to a smooth halt just outside the front steps, its metallic finish glinting beneath the late afternoon sun.
The driver quickly stepped out and opened the rear door.
A moment later, a slender figure emerged from the car. The woman was dressed in a graceful, sapphire-blue cheongsam embroidered with silver plum blossoms that shimmered subtly with each step she took. Her features were refined and dignified—almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones, and a graceful jawline softened by the faintest trace of warmth in her smile. There was a timeless elegance to her presence—poised, polished, and innately regal.
This was Song Yuerong—wife of Feng Zhaotian, and heiress of the Song family, one of the four remaining aristocratic families of Beijing.
As she ascended the marble steps, the villa's butler, Old Zhou, straightened and stepped forward, his expression a respectful mixture of welcome and seriousness.
"Madam Feng," he greeted with a slight bow.
"Mm," Song Yuerong nodded, her voice soft but clear. "Where is Master Feng? Has he returned from the City Hall?"
Old Zhou hesitated only a second before answering.
"Yes, Madam. He returned about an hour ago. He is currently resting upstairs after a rather… eventful day."
Her brows lifted slightly. "Eventful?"
"Yes, Madam." The old butler adjusted his stance and continued, lowering his voice respectfully. "It's about the banquet. There's been a sudden change in the catering arrangements."
A flicker of surprise passed over Song Yuerong's eyes, but her tone remained composed. "What happened to the catering agency we booked?"
Old Zhou cleared his throat. "Well… this morning, the catering company suddenly backed out due to their internal mishaps, he was quite angry and was about to go and confront them, but he was suddenly quite intrigued with Dagoi's breakfast, and ended up eating it. He liked it so much that he couldn't help praising it. He later found out that it came from a small breakfast stall in the Northern District."
Song Yuerong blinked, not out of offense, but genuine surprise. "He did what?"
"Yes, Madam. Later, Master Feng drove straight to the Northern District himself, tracked down the stall owner, and after sampling their food, immediately invited them to cater the entire banquet."
For a moment, silence lingered.
Song Yuerong's brows furrowed ever so slightly. There was no disdain or arrogance in her eyes—only confusion and growing unease.
She trusted her husband's judgment, especially when it came to important matters like this. He wasn't impulsive by nature. If he had gone so far to personally invite someone from a street stall to handle a high-level banquet, it could only mean one thing: the food must have been extraordinary.
But still… it felt too abrupt. Too unorthodox.
Her tone remained gentle, but her expression turned serious. "Take me to the kitchen."
"Of course, Madam," the butler replied, immediately stepping aside to lead the way.
----
Inside the spacious and immaculately maintained kitchen of the Feng residence, the air was thick with the fragrance of simmering broths, sizzling oils, and finely ground spices. For the past three hours, the Li family had been working with relentless focus, immersed in the demanding task of preparing a banquet that would soon welcome some of the most powerful figures in the province.
Though the kitchen buzzed with activity—servants from the Feng household moved briskly under strict order—Li Ziqing remained cautious. Despite the number of hands available, she didn't entrust a single dish to anyone else. Not even her uncle, Li Jianping, nor her elder brother, Li Zian, were permitted near the preparation. Only Li Jianfang, her mother, stood beside her at the central cooking island, permitted to assist after receiving a direct skill transfer through the Skill Echo Coupan.
After much deliberation, Li Ziqing had chosen to craft dishes inspired by the Royal Banquets of the Qing Dynasty—lavish, refined, and steeped in imperial tradition. Li Jianfang, having already tasted it the previous day, wholeheartedly agreed. On an occasion this grand, there was no room for error—only perfection would do.
Steam curled in gentle wisps from copper pots; porcelain platters were meticulously arranged with colorful garnishes; delicate sauces simmered to the right consistency. Every movement in the kitchen was fluid, rehearsed, and purposeful—until a new sound broke the rhythm.
Click. Click. Click.
The soft, measured taps of high heels echoed against the marble floor, growing louder as they neared the kitchen's wide entrance. Both Li Ziqing and Li Jianfang turned their heads in unison.
Standing at the threshold was a woman of striking elegance.