"M-Mayor...?" Li Zian stammered, voice barely above a whisper. "Mayor Han Zhiyuan...?"
Indeed, standing at their doorstep was none other than the Mayor of Wuhan—Han Zhiyuan himself.
Li Jianfang was the first to collect herself. She quickly stepped forward, offering a warm yet respectful smile. She nudged Li Jianping lightly, snapping him out of his daze. Embarrassed, his cheeks reddened as he stepped aside to stand behind her.
"Mayor Han," Li Jianfang greeted, her tone gracious and composed. She bowed slightly in courtesy.
For a moment, Han Zhiyuan was taken aback. The surrealness of the moment struck him like a camera flash—this modest alley, this humble household, and yet, the scene felt like it belonged on a carefully curated film set.
His gaze swept across the family members. His breath caught ever so slightly.
Li Jianfang herself radiated a mature elegance and a beauty that can destroy the Kingdoms of she were in a ancient times, while the young woman standing beside her—Li Ziqing, if he recalled correctly, was nothing short of breathtaking. Her poise, her refined features, and her steady gaze exuded confidence and grace and again her beauty was comparable to her mother.
Han Zhiyuan had traveled across China and the world—he had met socialites in Beijing, in Shanghai, and even walked the star-studded streets of Seoul—but he had never seen beauty this vibrant, this divine.
Then his eyes landed on the teenaged boy. His features were striking, infact one of a kind: a rare combination of youthful masculinity and refined charm, as if sculpted by an artist. And finally, the fourth man though not exceptionally handsome—had rugged features and expressive eyes that conveyed both strength and sincerity.
Han Zhiyuan exhaled quietly, shaking himself free of the trance. He adjusted his glasses and gave a faint smile.
"My apologies for the unannounced visit," he said sincerely. "Ms. Li Jianfang, I came to see your daughter tonight. I realize it's late, but once I explain the reason, I believe you'll understand."
Li Jianfang looked between him and her daughter, puzzled. "Ziqing? Do you know Mayor Han?"
Li Ziqing furrowed her brows slightly. "Mom, who in Wuhan doesn't know Mayor Han?" She then turned to Han Zhiyuan and added calmly, "But this is the first time I've had the honor of meeting him in person."
Her tone was respectful, her words precise—neither humble nor boastful. Han Zhiyuan took note, silently impressed by her grace under pressure. Her expression, he observed, held genuine surprise. That alone reassured him. Clearly, she had no ulterior motives in what had transpired yesterday.
Li Jianfang offered another composed smile. "Mayor Han, please—let's not stand at the door. Come in."
Han Zhiyuan nodded gratefully and stepped inside. The interior was modest and cramped, but immaculately clean. The faint scent of jasmine and tea lingered in the air. He made his way to the living room and took a seat on the sofa, his posture still formal, though his demeanor had softened.
As Li Jianfang turned to close the door, she caught sight of something that made her pause—a crowd had gathered outside the courtyard. Neighbors and passersby were craning their necks, whispering amongst themselves, their eyes wide with speculation.
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she shut the door swiftly.
By the time she returned, Han Zhiyuan had already begun speaking to Li Ziqing.
"Ms. Ziqing, yesterday you visited Wuhan City Hospital?"
Li Ziqing nodded. "Yes. I went to see our neighbor who was admitted there."
Han Zhiyuan continued, "While you were there, I believe you met a young girl—my daughter, LuLu. I was told you offered her some food."
Recognition dawned in Li Ziqing's eyes. She remembered the System's mission and the girl's timid hunger. "Yes," she said slowly, "I recall. She looked unwell and seemed drawn by the smell of my lunch. She was hungry, so I offered her some."
A flicker of emotion crossed Han Zhiyuan's face—part gratitude, part vulnerability. He hesitated for the briefest of moments, then took a deep breath.
"As a father... I'm deeply grateful," he said softly. "My daughter's condition is... delicate. But she rarely opens up to strangers. What you did may seem small, but to me—and to her—it meant the world."
He looked her in the eyes now, the mask of a government official fading to reveal a concerned parent.
"Ms. Ziqing," he continued, his voice steady but sincere, "I've come to ask you for a small favor."
Li Ziqing was momentarily taken aback—not because Mayor Han was asking for a favor, but because it simply didn't fit the image she had of him in her mind.
She had a very distinct impression of this man.
Even now, fragments of her previous life lingered in her memory. Han Zhiyuan—the man sitting across from her—had begun his career as the mayor of a remote northern township. In just five years, an unusually rapid ascent, he was appointed directly as the Mayor of Wuhan. It had been unprecedented, but not without merit. He was a visionary—a man who had revitalized a poverty-stricken village by turning its natural assets—lush forests, a cool climate, serene mountains—into a flourishing tourist destination.
Under his leadership, the area attracted investors and transformed into a hub of luxury hotels, wellness resorts, eco-spas, and naturopathic healing centers. What was once a quiet village had evolved into one of China's premier nature-escape destinations, drawing not only domestic tourists but also international travelers. The success was so vast that the village had since been elevated to a county, nearly indistinguishable from a city, complete with its own airport and high-speed rail station.
And the mastermind behind that transformation was the man now seated calmly before her—Han Zhiyuan.
In her past life, she remembered it clearly: by 2009, after seven years of exceptional service as the Mayor of Wuhan, Han Zhiyuan was promoted to one of the most prestigious positions in the country—the Party Secretary of Beijing. That role alone placed him at the heart of national decision-making. It is the fifth most powerful political position in China. Above him were only four others: the Politburo Standing Committee member, the Premier, the President, and finally, the General Secretary.
Rumors had long whispered of his powerful background in her privious life, but it wasn't until a televised interview after his promotion that he publicly confirmed his lineage—he was the grandson of one of the founding members of the People's Republic. A direct member of the illustrious Han family—one of the top four families in Beijing.
And yet now, in this life, that very same man was sitting humbly before her… requesting her help. Who would have thought that this same man will be the fifth most powerful man in the nation. The realization left her feeling slightly unsettled.
Suppressing the swirl of emotions within, Li Ziqing maintained her composure. Her voice was calm and respectful.
"Mayor Han, there's no need to be so formal," she said gently. "If there's anything I can do to help, I'll do so without hesitation."
Han Zhiyuan inclined his head in gratitude, but the weariness in his eyes didn't go unnoticed. He took a moment to collect himself before speaking again.
"Ms. Ziqing," he began softly, "my daughter—LuLu—is currently battling stage one leukemia. She's undergoing chemotherapy... but she's only nine years old. Too young to understand what's happening to her, and too weak to endure the side effects."
He paused, his voice slightly trembling, before continuing.
"The treatments have devastated her appetite. Her taste buds are nearly nonfunctional—something the doctors say is common during chemo. But because of that, she's barely eating anything. Her weight is dropping at a dangerous rate, and it's deeply concerning."
He paused again, this time longer, the weight of a father's grief evident in his tone.
"But yesterday… for the first time in over a month, she ate—really ate. And she was happy. She had energy, she smiled. She wouldn't stop talking about you or your cooking. It was the first spark of light we've seen in weeks."
He looked up, his expression earnest.
"We thought we were turning a corner, but today... she hasn't eaten a single bite. Tomorrow is another round of chemotherapy, and if she goes in this weak..."
His voice cracked at the edges, and he had to glance away to compose himself. When he spoke again, it was almost a whisper.
"So, I'm here... to humbly ask if you could make the same dishes again. The ones you gave her yesterday. I know it's an unusual request, but as a father, I'm willing to do anything—anything—to help my daughter feel better, even if just a little."
Silence followed his plea, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the room.
Li Ziqing was about to nod in agreement, but a sudden thought flickered across her mind, and she quickly adjusted her words.
"Yes, of course. My mother will prepare the food right away," she said with a warm, composed smile.
Han Zhiyuan froze for a split second, a realization dawning on him.
Yes… how could he have overlooked that?
She was just a girl—thirteen, maybe fourteen at most. How could she have cooked such intricate, medicinally balanced food? It must have been her mother.
Feeling slightly embarrassed by his oversight, he turned toward Li Jianfang with a sheepish expression and offered a sincere apology. "I'm really sorry, Madam Li. I was so eager to seek Ms. Ziqing's help that I momentarily forgot… it must have been you who prepared the meal. Please forgive my thoughtlessness."
Li Jianfang, however, was silently baffled.
Why did A Qing lie? she wondered, her brow knitting briefly in confusion. She made the food herself. I was only helping with the prep work.
But on the surface, she betrayed nothing. With a graceful nod and gentle smile, she replied, "It's alright, Mayor Han. I'll go start cooking immediately."
She rose from her seat and walked toward the kitchen, Li Ziqing quietly following behind.
As soon as they stepped inside and the door swung shut behind them, Li Jianfang turned anxiously toward her daughter. She lowered her voice and asked, "A Qing, why did you lie? What if my dishes don't turn out well? You should be the one cooking."
Li Ziqing reached out and gently patted her mother's hand, her tone calm and reassuring.
"Mom, I trust you. You can definitely do it."
She gave her an encouraging smile and added, "You've already mastered several dishes from the Royal Banquet of the Qing Dynasty and the Snow Phoenix Cuisine. These are among the most difficult cuisines to learn. And yet, you've done it with ease. You're ready."
Seeing her mother still hesitant, she continued, "Mom, You only need to prepare a few simple medicinal dishes using ingredients we already have at home. I bought many hearbs and vegetables today because I was thinking of teaching you medicinal cuisine. Here's what you'll make, Ginseng Chicken Soup, Braised Black-bone Chicken with Angelica, Sautéed Pork with Chinese Yam and Wolfberries, Stir-fried Bok Choy with Sesame and Astragalus Root, Steamed Lotus Root with Jujube and Tremella. And mom make four portions of each dish. For the recipe, for chicken Gingseng soup you need to boil...."
As she finished explaining the recipes, Li Ziqing discreetly activated the Skill Echo Coupon, silently transferring the complete cooking knowledge of the dishes directly into Li Jianfang's mind.
Li Jianfang blinked in astonishment as a flood of techniques, flavors, and precise timing washed over her thoughts. She looked at her daughter, stunned but reassured.
"I… I can feel it. I know exactly how to make them."
Li Ziqing nodded with a smile. "Go ahead. I'll entertain Mayor Han while you cook."
She picked up the finely-crafted tea set her mother had prepared few years back only for guests—a beautiful celadon set worth over 300 yuan, which had been considered a luxury for their household not long ago.
Though the tea itself wasn't from a prestigious or rare batch, it was still of excellent quality—a lightly fermented Dong Ding Oolong, fragrant and soothing.
Li Ziqing carried the tray into the living room with measured steps. "Mayor Han, sorry to keep you waiting. My mother has already started preparing the dishes, it will be done soon. Until than let me offer you some tea, although it's not some rare treasure, you will feel better."
Han Zhiyuan immediately nodded and said, "it's ok, let your mother take her time, how can I complain when I am the one bothering her. And the Dong Ding Oolong is fine."
She knelt gracefully before the low table, placing the tray down with care.
Her spine was perfectly straight, her every gesture poised and unhurried. With a serene smile on her lips, she began the traditional brewing process.
She rinsed the teapot and cups with boiling water, warming the vessels first. Then, using a slender bamboo scoop, she added just the right amount of tea leaves into the clay teapot. After pouring in the hot water, she let it steep for a precise moment before pouring out the first brew—cleansing the leaves.
As the second infusion steeped, a soft, floral fragrance filled the air. Her hands moved in a smooth, elegant rhythm—each action fluid and precise, like a well-rehearsed dance.
Han Zhiyuan, seated across from her, was visibly stunned.
The tea she was brewing wasn't particularly rare, but the method she used—the gongfu cha style—was a traditional art passed down in aristocratic circles. The movements she displayed were refined, the etiquette immaculate. Even among Beijing's upper-class daughters, not many could perform the ceremony so flawlessly.
The way she poured the amber liquid into the tiny cups, her fingers steady, her wrists gently curved—it was a sight to behold. There was an otherworldly grace to her, as if she had been born and raised in an ancient scholarly household.
Han Zhiyuan found himself unable to look away.
How can a young girl from the Northern district… possess such cultivated mannerisms?
His heart stirred slightly—not with suspicion, but with curiosity and admiration. There was something extraordinary about this girl. Something hidden beneath the surface of her calm exterior.
She offered him the first cup with both hands and a light bow of her head. "Please, Mayor Han. Try this."
He accepted the cup slowly, still watching her with a gaze tinged with disbelief. As he sipped the tea, its warmth spreading through his chest, he felt something deeper than just flavor—he felt presence, care, and grace in every drop.
Just as Han Zhiyuan brought the tiny porcelain cup to his lips and sipped the last of the amber tea, a sudden wave of fragrance drifted into the living room.
His hand paused mid-air.
The aroma—soft at first—soon unfolded like an intricate painting, layer upon layer of mouth-watering warmth and herbal complexity. It was as if each note carried its own story: the rich umami of braised meats, the sweet earthiness of medicinal roots, the delicate sharpness of herbs blooming with fire and comfort.
His eyes widened slightly.
What is that smell…?
It wasn't just delicious—it was transcendent. The kind of scent that didn't just make the stomach growl, but touched something deeper, older… ancestral even. It reminded him of a place he had never visited, a home he had never known.
And suddenly, it all made sense.
No wonder LuLu couldn't resist.
Even someone like him—who had dined in Michelin-starred restaurants across Europe, tasted royal banquets in Beijing, and eaten with top chefs from Tokyo—felt an inexplicable itch in his soul.
Temptation.
Not just to eat, but to devour whatever dish was being made in that kitchen.
He leaned back slightly, stunned.
His gaze drifted from the teacup to the hallway that led to the kitchen. For a long moment, he sat there in silence, simply breathing in the scent.
Then his eyes slowly turned to look at the young girl kneeling across from him.
Li Ziqing.
Her posture remained composed, her smile gentle, but there was a quiet confidence radiating from her presence. She was so young, yet her every action was imbued with elegance. Not forced, not mimicked, but natural. As if she had been raised in the boudoirs of aristocracy, surrounded by poetry and discipline, not in a modest Northern district household.
He was certain about one thing now, this was no ordinary family.