Chapter 807: 797. The Misery of the Rice Bowl

The duration of this incessant drizzle exceeded imagination, and the sun hadn’t appeared for a whole week.

At first, everyone was hopeful, but now they’ve become numb to it; Wu Lan even started to complain about her blankets getting damp!

Not just the blankets, although the storage room was well organized, moisture was everywhere due to the weather!

Now, she began to miss the warehouse on the mountain; it was so spacious and even had a drying treatment. If only it were convenient to store family ingredients there, she wouldn’t have to worry now.

And this weather, still busy was Song Youde — he stopped making straw mats at the beginning of the month, taking over Boss Chang’s batch of curtain cushions, which he has now finished.

Apart from them, only Yanping and Xin Jun remained.

Qiaoqiao’s curriculum was exceptionally full on rainy days, and being smarter than most children, his progress was rapid; he had already started learning quadratic equations.

Teaching such a student, Xin Jun felt a sense of accomplishment that made her smile every day, truly feeling like a teacher.

In contrast, there were Wu Lei, who buried his head in data on cattle and sheep and was suffering from the double pressure of family and physics, and Zhang Yanping, who faced the computer with a numb expression.

The former was about to be entrusted with a big responsibility, struggling painfully with the materials specially organized by Professor Song.

If not for that job, who would endure such suffering?!

And Zhang Yanping?

He was in charge of the online store, which currently had nothing in stock, so theoretically, it should be easy.

But the problem was the rapid increase in fan numbers recently, fueled by someone’s recommendation, almost simultaneously sending him messages.

“Is there anyone there? Why is there nothing in the store?”

“How are the pickled long beans sold?”

“How is the rice sold? Is shipping free to Beicheng?”

“How are the tremella sold? When will they be listed?”

“I can’t get this tea, boss, can you sell it for an extra 1000 per kilogram? Send it to Beicheng.”

Beicheng, Beicheng, Beicheng!

Zhang Yanping was incredibly annoyed: where did these new fans come from? Haven’t they watched even one livestream, or did they not even properly look at the store? The details page clearly stated the current situation.

Moreover, the tea was only available in limited quantities daily, already a privilege. If they were willing to pay an extra 1000 per kilogram, why wouldn’t he sell directly to Boss Chang?

Yet, these people kept asking the same questions repetitively, especially active around meal times, so every time he finished eating and came back, he had dozens more unread messages.

Some even directly stated they were chefs at a five-star hotel in Beicheng, wanting to discuss supply issues.

Good grief, don’t you have any idea how far Beicheng is? Besides, what stock is there to supply? It’s all going to Boss Chang.

But, every visitor is a guest.

While Zhang Yanping was verbally arrogant, when it came to customer service, he called everyone “dear” and “honey” incredibly smoothly, thus spending quite a bit of effort to handle these people.

Then, he couldn’t help feeling a bit proud: Oh my, the products of Tantan’s family were about to go nationwide, even star-rated hotels were inquiring!

In another two years, would Michelin-starred chefs need to settle here too?

Thinking this way, the irritation from the repetitive questions gradually became more bearable.

But while he could endure, someone else couldn’t.

Since arriving in Beicheng, Lun Chuan hadn’t had a satisfying meal.

Without mentioning the first meal he didn’t get enough of, what followed was practically an ambush at every mealtime, from the director to the art department, each more shameless than the last.

And with wolves ahead, there was also a chef behind him, Old Zhong, who, desiring three meals a day, kept pestering him for the seller’s contact information, complaining that the online store had nothing.

He had already asked the other party about it, and they clearly stated that they had too many orders from friends and didn’t want to add any new ones…

Now it’s 5:00 PM, and Old Zhong is still loyally standing in front of that locked cabinet, sighing deeply, looking gloomy and not moving an inch.

He doesn’t move, but the chefs nearby feel itchy and quickly find a topic to ask him: “It’s this time already, why haven’t you started cooking?”

Old Zhong looked downcast: “Not cooking today, the customer said he had to go out for a bit.”

How strange!

He’s been here for two to three days, and because of the unique ingredients, everyone in the kitchen has been paying more attention to Mr. Lu, Old Zhong’s patron.

Who doesn’t know that he has a sensitive constitution and feels uncomfortable even just walking a few steps outside?

That day, at the hotel entrance, he was slightly brushed against by a standing drawing held by a fan–seriously!

The front desk had broadcasted it live several times, it was just a light brush, and Mr. Lu’s elbow flared up with a bright red mark.

The fan, originally upset from not seeing their idol, lost all their pride upon seeing this and stood there repeatedly bowing and apologizing while holding the drawing…

Really, it looked so severe, like he could be hospitalized at any moment.

Mr. Lu is good-looking, and people gasped in sympathy when his arm was brushed. With this, the whole hotel knew that Mr. Lu wasn’t lying about his sensitive constitution.

Then wearing face mask, not stepping out of the main and secondary gates, just discussing and doing nothing else every day…

Everyone thought this was normal.

But such a person now says he has to go out for something?

What could it be?

The kitchen staff looked forward to it eagerly, their enthusiasm for their work fading.

After all, if he wasn’t there, Old Zhong wouldn’t cook dinner.

If he didn’t cook dinner, how could they get a good look at the ingredients from the sidelines?

Sigh!

Momentarily, the whole kitchen fell into gloom.

Meanwhile, the center of the discussion, Mr. Lu, had already arrived at Dongjiang Airport.

It’s been three days since he arrived in Beicheng. His sugared chestnuts have been stored in property for a day, and his fresh radish greens for ten hours already!

If these good things spoil in the suitcase, he’d regret it deeply.

Of course, as long as he mentions it to Lu Jingye, his mom would definitely not mind helping out.

But the thing is, Lu Jingye doesn’t have these items either. If she takes care of them, they might end up in her stomach.

Mr. Lu wasn’t usually someone without self-control. It’s just that these three days felt like years.

Although extra meals were arranged every day, he wasn’t full, and he couldn’t go to the gym!

After much thought, he couldn’t contain himself and decided to return overnight to sort out his parcels.

But he couldn’t reveal this reason. He’d already discussed with Director Zhang to stay for at least a week, and now, just after three days, he’s heading back at night. Could he tell everyone he’s going back to collect parcels?

Thinking of these clingy people, he furrowed his brows and decisively set his phone to do not disturb.

As the plane headed to Imperial City took off from Dongjiang Airport, in the hotel, Old Zhong, reluctantly about to leave work, still sat on a stool in front of the small cabinet holding the keys, laboriously toeing the line of violating professional ethics:

“I’ll just take a look, just a look… I’m really not a Chef, how can I look…”