Then the first course was served.
A quiet hush settled over the hall, and for a few suspended seconds, it seemed even the clinking of wine glasses paused. The aroma wafted in waves—subtle yet arresting, ancient yet unfamiliar. When the dishes were laid out, the guests looked down, and then at each other, almost unsure of what they were seeing.
But as the first bite entered their mouths, everything began to shift.
There were no exclamations, no theatrical displays—just a quiet stillness, followed by an almost collective sigh. The kind that escapes uninvited, unguarded.
"What... is this?" a seasoned businessman from Shanghai murmured, staring at the porcelain plate before him as though it were an artifact.
"This tastes like something… timeless," whispered a provincial official, setting down his chopsticks gently, reverently.
Soon, whispers turned into conversations—soft at first, then more animated. Someone mentioned the Qing Dynasty. Another recalled the old imperial kitchens, the art of culinary heritage passed down in secret. Suddenly, they weren't discussing profit margins or policy drafts—they were discussing craftsmanship, legacy, and the sheer reverence owed to Chinese culinary art.
And just like that, the frost in the room began to melt.
Laughter echoed—natural, uninhibited. Men who had walked in as competitors leaned closer to share impressions, trade memories, and praise. One even chuckled, "This dinner alone is worth making the trip from Shanghai."
No longer just a dinner, it became a shared experience. An awakening. They weren't just tasting food—they were tasting history, dedication, and soul.
It wasn't the luxury that moved them—it was the sincerity. The reverence for forgotten traditions. The silent message from the chefs that each dish was more than food—it was a homage.
By dessert, the hall no longer held cold businessmen and silent politicians. It held people—warm, animated, connected. Strangers exchanged names. Rivals toasted one another. Phones were finally put down. Conversations sparkled, eyes lit up.
Song Yuerong stood at the edge of the room with a glass of wine in hand, watching the transformation unfold. Her lips curved in a soft, proud smile.
Standing beside her, Feng Zhaotian whispered, "Just as we hoped."
And it was. Everything they had imagined—and more.
As the banquet continued in full bloom, the air thick with warm laughter and spirited conversation, one question seemed to echo at every corner of the grand hall:
"Who was the chef behind this?"
Again and again, Feng Zhaotian and Song Yuerong were approached—by curious businessmen, impressed officials, even seasoned restaurateurs from Shanghai—with hopeful eyes and eager tones.
"President Feng, I've attended state dinners, Michelin galas, private feasts in embassies... but never anything like this. Who prepared the food tonight?"
Madam Song, poised and graceful as ever, would offer the same smile each time. "I'm truly glad the dishes resonated with you. However, the chefs have expressed their wish to remain anonymous for now."
It was the truth.
Li Jianfang had made it clear from the very beginning—she did not want their identities made public. Not yet. Her daughter, Li Ziqing was still in middle school. While her talent was undeniable, Jianfang feared that sudden attention would derail her studies. Until she doesn't learn properly from her daughter and is ready to embrace the public stage, they would remain in the shadows—unknown, unseen, and uninterrupted.
Feng Zhaotian and Song Yuerong, both respected their choices, So, out of respect—and a touch of protectiveness—they honored the request.
And so, to every guest, they would reply with gentle politeness, "The chefs prefer to keep their names private. But rest assured, once they are ready, they will certainly meet the public with open arms."
The answer, while disappointing to many, was still met with understanding. After all, with culinary skills this refined, eccentricity was almost expected. Great talent often walked hand-in-hand with mystery, and mystery only added to the allure.
"Of course," a guest said, nodding. "That kind of genius… isn't born in a day."
"Chefs like that," another murmured, "they don't just cook—they meditate with their ingredients."
And so the conversation shifted again, back to flavor notes. It was then that Feng Zhaotian made his move.
Seeing the room glowing with contentment and connection, he discreetly excused himself from the table and began circulating with practiced ease. He first approached the delegates from Shanghai—men and women of towering influence, whose nod of approval could open entire markets. The discussions were subtle, strategic, and above all, fruitful.
Next, he conversed with provincial officials—gracefully touching on mutual interests and future partnerships. He never pushed, never demanded—he simply presented. The tone was right, the mood ideal, and the timing... perfect.
When he finally returned to his wife's side, there was a lightness in his step, the faintest gleam in his eye.
He didn't need to say a word.
Song Yuerong looked at him and immediately understood.
"It went well?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
Feng Zhaotian chuckled under his breath, picking up his glass and gently clinking it against hers. "Better than I could've planned." He than Continued, "Now I'm quite sure, we can make it" he sighed. This matter has been weighing him forever, has now finally showing some progress.
"This is all because of Ms Jianfang and Ms Ziqing, have you thought about how to reward them?" Song Yuerong asked.
Feng Zhaotian immediately nodded and said, "How can I not prepare gifts for our biggest benefactor, let's go and meet them" with that he led Song Yuerong towards the Li family.
---
Li Jianfang had been on edge ever since the first course was sent out. As dish after dish followed in succession with no word returning from the banquet hall, her anxiety had reached its peak.
Nearly two hours ago, when their culinary preparations were finally complete, the Feng household had kindly offered them a guest room to rest. But rest was the last thing on Jianfang's mind. How could she possibly leave the kitchen now, when her heart was tied so tightly to the outcome of tonight's event? This was not merely a banquet—it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And such opportunities, as rare as they were, always came with their own set of invisible burdens.
So here they all were—every member of the Li family still waiting in the kitchen, hearts suspended in uncertainty, ears straining for any sign, any whisper, that might reveal whether the guests were pleased or disappointed.
"A-Qing… everything was prepared properly, right? We didn't forget anything?" Jianfang asked for what felt like the tenth time, her voice barely hiding its nervous tremor.
"A-Ping, can you go and check with the family butler? See if there were any mishaps during service?"
"An-An, these guests… their palates are far too refined. A single misstep could ruin everything!"
These were the kinds of words that had poured from her mouth for the past hour, ever since silence had followed the meal's commencement. Her concern was understandable. Tonight's banquet wasn't some private dinner for a few friends—it was an affair for over two hundred guests. Precision and execution had to be perfect. There was no margin for error.
Normally, Jianfang was not so prone to worry. She had weathered storms in life with a steady heart. But tonight was different. Tonight, her daughter was involved.
"Mom, don't worry," said Li Zian gently, breaking the heavy stillness. "You've seen A-Qing's skills firsthand. Do you really think she would make mistakes?"
Jianfang looked at her son, trying to force a smile, and finally nodded. Still, her eyes remained fixed on the kitchen doors, awaiting any sign of news.
And then—they heard it. The sound of synchronized footsteps echoing through the hallway.
The Li family straightened almost instinctively. But when the doors opened and in walked not the family butler, but Feng Zhaotian and Song Yuerong themselves, adorned in smiles that spoke louder than words, the entire kitchen fell into stunned silence.
No one had expected the hosts of the evening to personally visit them, let alone at the height of the banquet.
"Ms. Li," Feng Zhaotian greeted warmly, his voice full of genuine gratitude, "the banquet was an overwhelming success. And judging by how well things are progressing, I believe my original intention for hosting this gathering has also been fulfilled. It's all thanks to you and your remarkable family. We truly cannot thank you enough."
Li Jianfang finally exhaled, a long and trembling breath of relief escaping her lips. It felt as if a mountain had been lifted off her chest.
Li Ziqing, calm and composed, stepped forward with a polite smile. "Congratulations, Mr. Feng. I wish you continued success in all your endeavors."
Seeing that the task they had undertaken was complete and well-received, Jianfang now spoke with poise, "Mr. Feng, Madam Song, now that everything has been taken care of and things have turned out well, we would like to take our leave."
"Wait, Ms. Li," Feng Zhaotian said, raising a hand. He gestured to an attendant standing behind him, who immediately stepped forward, holding a red envelope with both hands.
Jianfang frowned.
"Ms. Li, this is a small token of our heartfelt gratitude," Feng said. "Please accept it."
But she shook her head, still frowning. "Mr. Feng, we've already been compensated generously by Butler Feng. More than enough, in fact. We don't need this." And it was true—they had received thirty thousand yuan already, a sum far exceeding their expectations. Besides, Li Ziqing's system mission had also been successfully completed. They had no reason to ask for more.
Feng Zhaotian exchanged a glance with Song Yuerong, who stepped forward with a knowing smile. "Ms. Jianfang, please don't say that. This isn't merely a gesture of thanks—it is also a blessing for your daughter, Ziqing. Didn't you mention she recently completed her apprenticeship? Tonight was her first time managing such a grand banquet, and she did so flawlessly. How could we not bestow our blessings upon such a talented young woman?"
Faced with such gracious words, Jianfang found herself unable to object any further. She looked at her daughter and gave her a gentle nod.
Li Ziqing turned to the couple and bowed respectfully. "Thank you, Mr. Feng. Thank you, Madam Song, for your generous blessing."
As she accepted the red envelope, Song Yuerong's eyes softened.
"Xiao Qing," she said warmly, "allow us to call you that. And you may call us Uncle and Aunt—there's no need for such formality between us anymore."
Her gaze lingered on the young woman, admiration clearly etched in her expression. She couldn't help but marvel at Li Ziqing's poise, her discipline, and her talent. Her thoughts drifted for a moment to her own son, still abroad, still drifting, and she couldn't help but think… even he might not measure up to this exceptional girl.
Li Ziqing met Song Yuerong's warm gaze and nodded slightly, a soft smile forming on her lips.
"Uncle Feng, Aunt Song," she greeted respectfully.
Her voice was clear, her tone calm and composed. But before anyone could respond, Feng Zhaotian motioned to the attendant standing behind him, who stepped forward and handed him a document.
Li Ziqing, standing close by, caught a glimpse of the header—a property purchase agreement. Her brows furrowed slightly in confusion.
Feng Zhaotian unfolded the paper and turned toward her with a solemn expression.
"Xiao Qing, you may not fully realize this, but the help you've given me tonight is worth more than words can express—worth billions, quite literally," he said, his voice low and sincere. "That's not an exaggeration. I've spent years trying to build relationships with the people who attended tonight's banquet, hoping to secure a project that's valued in the hundreds of billions. Tonight, because of the food you prepared, because of the warmth it brought to the room... I can finally see hope. You've opened the door I couldn't unlock on my own."
Li Ziqing was stunned. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
Song Yuerong stepped forward to support her husband's words, her tone as warm as her expression.
"It's thanks to your family that we were able to turn the tide tonight. We cannot leave our benefactors unrewarded. This is a token of our gratitude—not charity, not payment, but appreciation."
She turned to Li Jianfang.
"Ms. Li, I took the liberty of looking into your children's schools—No. 1 Middle School and No. 1 High School, both in the central district. We've selected a property nearby, walking distance from both institutions. It's part of a high-end residential project under Hongtian Real Estate. It's safe, convenient, and perfect for your family's future."
Li Jianfang's mouth opened, then closed. Her fingers curled into her palms. The rest of the Li family stood frozen, unable to fully process what they had just heard.
This... was too much.
"A house in the school district..." she murmured, voice shaking. "Mr. Feng, Mrs. Feng, this is far too generous. We only cooked a meal. How can we accept something so extravagant?"
But one should never underestimate the persuasive power of the Feng couple. Gentle but unyielding, gracious yet resolute—they wouldn't take no for an answer. After several rounds of polite refusals and reassurances, the Li family finally relented. Internally, they resolved to help the Feng family in any way they could in the future, should the opportunity arise.
The apartment was located in a prestigious complex in the Central District of Wuhan. The papers they received were not the final deed, but a preliminary agreement and payment receipt. The official property certificate would be issued after Li Jianfang visited the sales office in person to complete the formal signing process.
---
Later that night, at 11 PM
Li Ziqing lay in bed, her eyes fixed on the glowing screen of the system inventory. After a day as emotionally and physically exhausting as this, she needed something to anchor herself.
Her eyes flickered to the reward section. This time, the system had granted her a special item:
Opportunity Coupon – One-Time Use
Description: Apply this coupon to receive a life-changing opportunity. A shortcut, if you will, to shift the trajectory of your life.
Without hesitation, she selected the coupon and applied it to herself.
Almost instantly, a wave of dizziness swept over her. Her vision blurred. She sat up, clutching her temples.
Images flickered before her eyes—like a slideshow of disjointed memories or glimpses from another life.
A building.
A signboard.
A paved sidewalk.
A glint of metal.
A tiffin box.
Tiffin?