Wuhan City Hospital
Han Zhiyuan turned his head slightly and glanced at the man seated beside him—Shen Weiyuan. The image before him made him want to bang his head on the table.
"Slow down, will you?" Han Zhiyuan snapped, his tone laced with exasperation. "Shen Weiyuan, do you have no shame? Have some decorum. It's like you've never seen food before."
Rice stuck to Shen Weiyuan's chin, and a smear of soup had stained the front of his custom-tailored blue shirt. It was a tragic sight for someone raised with etiquette in elite circles. Yet the man continued eating, wholly unbothered.
Shen Weiyuan had no time for reflection or self-awareness—not when he was experiencing the best meal of his life. He wasn't one to analyze the deeper meaning behind good food. He simply ate, appreciating the taste on instinct alone.
Han Zhiyuan rolled his eyes and let his attention drift toward his daughter. LuLu was now sleeping soundly, her face no longer pale and lifeless. A blush had returned to her cheeks—a faint red glow that spoke of vitality.
Earlier that day, when he left the Li residence, Li Ziqing had insisted on accompanying him to visit LuLu, but he'd politely refused. He didn't want to cause unnecessary trouble to this girl and her family anymore. Still, Li Ziqing had promised to visit after her therapy session the next day.
Before he left, Li Jianfang handed him an insulated bag packed with tightly sealed tiffin boxes, filled with an assortment of homemade dishes. What touched him most was the thoughtfulness—four full portions, one of which was set aside in case a nurse or doctor happened to be present.
Gratitude welled up in his heart.
He had seen it with his own eyes—the miraculous effect this food had. As soon as the boxes were opened, the aroma alone stirred LuLu from her fragile state. She opened her eyes, and in a voice barely above a whisper, asked for food. That single request had brought tears to both his and Xu Shuhua's eyes.
For the first time in weeks, they watched their daughter eat with appetite. The burden they'd carried for so long suddenly felt lighter.
After feeding LuLu and helping her fall asleep, Han Zhiyuan and Xu Shuhua finally sat down for their own meal. They'd already smelled the dishes and anticipated something extraordinary. But even their expectations paled in comparison to what followed. From the first spoonful of soup, they were captivated.
The food wasn't just good—it was transcendent.
It was not flashy or needlessly extravagant like the kind found in overpriced restaurants. No, this was food that spoke of home, of tradition, of a rich and gentle culture. It soothed the soul even before touching the tongue. The kind of food, Han Zhiyuan imagined, that might make even the gods descend from heaven.
For weeks, he and Xu Shuhua had struggled with loss of appetite, both physically and emotionally drained from LuLu's diagnosis. Yet tonight, they finished every bite.
There had been one extra portion left.
Just as they were about to offer extra box to the nurse on duty, Shen Weiyuan arrived unannounced. Xu Shuhua, out of politeness, offered him the food—never expecting him to accept it so enthusiastically.
Now, after polishing off the last bite, Shen Weiyuan leaned back in satisfaction and asked casually, "Which restaurant did you get this from? I need to find this chef and hire them immediately."
Han Zhiyuan sighed. "It's not from a restaurant. It was homemade."
Shen Weiyuan froze, his posture suddenly rigid. "Homemade?" he echoed, stunned. "Are you serious? That meal was better than anything served by a Michelin-starred chef. Don't joke with me."
Han Zhiyuan met his friend's gaze evenly. "Do I look like I'm joking?" His voice dropped a note lower. "Listen to me, Weiyuan. You may have tasted the food, but you are not—under any circumstances—allowed to investigate the family or disturb them. This is about my daughter. I swear, I'll fight you if I have to."
Xu Shuhua, seated quietly on the single sofa, reached out and gently touched her husband's arm to calm him. Then she turned to Shen Weiyuan.
"Brother Shen, you must understand what LuLu is going through. Her sense of taste had deteriorated due to chemotherapy. This food is the only thing she finds appealing now. We're deeply grateful to that family. Please, don't complicate things."
Shen Weiyuan raised both hands in mock surrender, a wronged expression on his face. "Why are you two looking at me like I'm some kind of villain? I'm not asking for their secrets, I'm just curious. And… I wouldn't mind another portion of that food tomorrow."
"No," Han Zhiyuan said firmly. "They already did us a great favor by preparing four portions today. I won't ask them to cook more—not for you, not even for me."
"You call this friendship?" Shen Weiyuan shot back, looking offended. "It's just a small favor! You already owe them—what's one more?"
Han Zhiyuan ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Calm down. While speaking with them, I found out they're planning to open a restaurant soon. You'll get your chance then."
Shen Weiyuan's eyes lit up with sudden interest. "A restaurant? Are they crazy or brilliant? That kind of food entering the market… it's going to turn the industry upside down. There'll be a frenzy. Every major culinary critic will be scrambling for a seat. Other restaurateurs are going to raise hell once they realize they can't compete."
Han Zhiyuan said nothing. But he agreed silently.
He still remembered the moment he opened the tiffin. The aroma alone was mesmerizing. And the presentation—simple, yet elegant—held an artistry born from culture and tradition, not commercial flair. There was a quiet magic in every bite, something no fine-dining gimmick could replicate.
A storm was coming. A new culinary giant would soon rise in Wuhan.
Sensing the shift in conversation, he changed the topic. "I heard your son is back on the mainland. Here for school?"
Shen Weiyuan's face twisted slightly with displeasure. "Yes. He wanted to skip grades, but my father insisted he go step-by-step. He says my son needs to experience a normal teenage life… but is that boy normal?"
Han Zhiyuan chuckled. "If your wife or father knew how you talk behind your son's back, you'd be in serious trouble."
Shen Weiyuan immediately fell silent.
The legendary president of Asia's largest conglomerate—feared by rivals, respected by heads of state—was utterly powerless at the mention of one name.
His wife.
It wasn't fear rooted in intimidation, but in love. Shen Weiyuan was a self-proclaimed puppet to his wife, and the sheepish look on his face said it all.
The Central Shopping Plaza—Wuhan's crown jewel of high-end retail indulgence—stood tall and proud under the late morning sun, its golden façade gleaming like an opulent fortress of luxury. It wasn't merely a shopping center; it was a curated lifestyle experience. From internationally renowned fashion houses and flagship electronics brands to gourmet dining, gaming lounges, private theaters, full-service spas, and elite salons—this place had everything a person of status could desire.
Unlike Jiangshen Road, where crowds bustled with all walks of life—from trendy youth to bargain hunters—Central Shopping Plaza attracted only the crème de la crème. It was the chosen playground of the city's elite, the kind of place where stepping through the door cost you face if your wallet wasn't heavy enough. One needed not just money, but confidence and presence to enter.
In her previous life, Li Ziqing had never once dared to set foot here. Even when she passed by, the towering escalators, polished marble floors, and glittering storefronts seemed to mock her modest dreams. But that was then.
Now, with two hundred million yuan lying quietly in her account, Li Ziqing walked past the gold-rimmed glass doors with the poise of a queen returning to her palace.
Heads turned the moment she stepped inside.
Her beauty was simply otherworldly.
With waist-length black hair cascading down her back, delicate features that seemed hand-sculpted by an immortal, and skin so fair it almost glowed under the soft interior lighting—she stole breaths as she passed.
For a heartbeat, silence followed in her wake.
And then came the murmurs.
"God, she's beautiful…"
"Is she a celebrity?"
"No way, did you see her clothes?"
That's when the admiration began to curdle. Despite her flawless face and graceful walk, Li Ziqing wore a simple white T-shirt and a faded pair of jeans—clearly discounted street fashion from a roadside stall. Her shoes were a pair of well-worn sneakers.
Some turned away with a snort, dismissing her as someone playing dress-up.
"She must be one of bitches attracting rich men," one woman sneered to her friend.
"Yeah, the kind that uses beauty, youth and seduction, this type of girls are pro at what this do." the friend replied with a scoff.
But Li Ziqing was unfazed.
She walked like she owned the place, like she had walked these halls a thousand times, head held high, her long legs carrying her steadily through the marbled floor, past brand boutiques that had once felt like unreachable fantasies.
Today, her goal was simple: to buy the best smartphones and laptops for her entire family.
She entered the Fruit Brand flagship store—clean, sleek, and minimalist, with devices displayed like fine art. The white lighting gleamed off every surface, making it feel more like a tech museum than a store.
The reason Li Ziqing had come to the Fruit Brand store today was simple.
In this era—2006—China was still in love with clunky flip phones, filled with satisfying button clicks and colorful charms dangling from the sides. But she, reborn with memories from 2018, knew that these devices would soon be obsolete.
The international Fruit Brand had just released its revolutionary product line: the iPhone series. Touchscreen technology, internet browsing, media apps—all in one device. Though not as advanced as the ones from her past life, it was still decades ahead of everything currently on the market.
And it wasn't just the phone.
The newly launched MacBook had also caught her attention. A sleek machine powered by Intel's Core Duo processor, running on a 667 MHz front-side bus with integrated GMA 950 graphics—it was a dream in aluminum casing, light years ahead of what others were using.
This would not just elevate her family's quality of life—it would secure her a head start in her plans.
(Note: Apple launched its first smart phone in January 2007 but since it's a fictional world let's assume it's already launched. But yes laptop was already launched in May 2006)
So when Li Ziqing walked into the sleek, minimalist Fruit Brand showroom nestled on the second floor of the Central Shopping Plaza, her expression was calm and her posture confident.
But the reception she got was… less than warm.
As always, her beauty struck like a thunderclap. Several customers and even two of the junior male staff members instinctively looked over, stunned.
But then, eyes shifted down to her clothes. The admiration cooled. Quickly replaced by thinly veiled disdain.
Especially from the older female sales associates.
"Another country bumpkin here to see the touchscreen phones," one of them muttered in Mandarin, not bothering to lower her voice.
"Probably came in to enjoy the air conditioning," another chuckled, arms crossed.
Their voices weren't loud, but they weren't whispering either.
Li Ziqing heard them. Of course she did. But she didn't flinch.
Without acknowledging the comments, she walked gracefully toward one of the sleek display counters showcasing the new iPhones. She stood there silently, her fingers resting lightly on the cool glass, waiting to be attended to.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Not a single staff member approached her.
Behind the counter, the senior employees whispered among themselves, occasionally glancing her way with mocking eyes.
"She's just pretending to be calm," one said with a smirk.
"She'll leave when she realizes we won't entertain her."
But there was one pair of eyes in the corner that watched the scene with growing discomfort.
Xiao Yun, a newly hired salesgirl in her early twenties, stood near the accessories section. She had undergone customer service training just last month and still remembered the instructor's words:
"Never judge a customer by appearance. You're not selling rice on the street. You represent a global brand."
She had seen Li Ziqing walk in. She had seen the awe she inspired—and the immediate dismissal that followed.
"I'm going to go assist her," she said, stepping forward.
"Wait, Xiao Yun," one of the older saleswomen snapped, grabbing her wrist. "She's not buying anything. Don't waste time on her."
"But she's been standing there for ten minutes," Xiao Yun argued softly. "It's our job to greet—"
"She's obviously here to look, not to buy. You'll only embarrass yourself."
Xiao Yun hesitated, then gently pulled her wrist free. "I'd rather embarrass myself than ignore someone who might be a real customer."
Ignoring the warning stares of her seniors, she smoothed her uniform, drew a calming breath, and walked briskly toward Li Ziqing.
"Hello, miss," Xiao Yun greeted her warmly. "I'm sorry for the wait. How may I assist you today?"
Li Ziqing turned to her, eyes soft but confident. "I want to buy the latest iPhone. Four of them. And four MacBooks, all in different colors if possible."
Xiao Yun blinked, stunned for a moment. "You… you said four iPhones and four MacBooks?"
"Yes," Li Ziqing replied calmly. "Include styluses and protective cases. I want them all packed. I'll be taking them with me today."
From behind, a tray clattered to the floor.
One of the senior saleswomen had overheard and dropped a stack of display phones in shock.
Xiao Yun quickly composed herself and smiled. "Of course, miss. Right this way, please. I'll assist you personally."
Li Ziqing followed her to the sitting area in the right corner as whispers filled the store.
"Did she say four iPhones?"
"And four MacBooks?!"
"Wasn't she just… a bumpkin?"
The senior staff now stared in disbelief, their earlier disdain replaced by regret and a touch of shame.
"Li Ziqing? What are you doing here?" A Loud disdainful voice echoed in the shop.
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Thank you so much suni1234 and Kulsum_Bano for the power stone, it really means a lot☺️