No one was watching her, no one was controlling her—Li Yaru’s days couldn’t be more comfortable.
Recently, Zhuang Qiting had a sudden bout of conscience and really stopped minding her business.
If she stayed out partying until midnight, he’d send someone to pick her up. If she went to the mainland for an event, he’d have the plane ready.
Inside her jewelry cabinet, the Garrard Crown sat in a prominent spot. Zhuang Qiting had spent eight million US dollars at auction for it, and just a few days later, Li Yaru wore it to a banquet—making it into the entertainment news.
Li Yaru felt that Zhuang Qiting was actually pretty good, at least when he wasn’t being a maniac.
When she was in a good mood, she treated him well: no more butting heads, no calling him old, even enthusiastically putting together outfits for his events.
“My husband really is dashing and charming as ever, still as handsome as in his youth.” When she spoke sweetly, it was deadly. “You look like you’re just in your early thirties.”
Zhuang Qiting shot her a laughing glance, amused by her nonsense, and automatically pulled her into his arms, kissing her three times in a row. “Why are you in such a good mood lately?”
Li Yaru, acting disgusted by his kisses, twisted away and picked out a Sapphire Alligator Watch for him. “Wear this—if you don’t control me, of course I’m happy!”
Zhuang Qiting raised his brows, smiling without saying a word.
Life was peaceful and harmonious. The day their eldest son, Zhuang Shaoyan, returned from a business trip, Li Yaru personally cooked a special dish.
After marrying Zhuang Qiting, she had almost never set foot in the kitchen—there were always people to do everything.
But that didn’t mean her cooking wasn’t excellent. After all, she grew up by the stove, watching Li Fu make the famous Hong Kong dish: Chicken Oil Huadiao Crab with Chencun Rice Noodles. Even if she didn’t try to learn, she would have picked it up.
This was only the second time Li Shengming had tasted his mother’s personally made Huadiao Crab. Excited, he mixed the sauce into his rice. “It’s so good, Mommy, your cooking is even better than the Wang Zhen Lou Chef!”
Wang Zhen Lou was the seafood restaurant run by Li Fu, and now it was one of Li Yaru’s businesses. The place was more popular than ever, chosen by foodies as a must-visit old establishment on Hong Kong Island.
Li Yaru grinned from ear to ear. “Really? It’s the same recipe. Oh, it must be the wine I used—fifty-year-old Old Shaoxing. If the restaurant used this kind of old wine, it would have gone bankrupt ages ago.”
Zhuang Shaoyan was a stickler for cleanliness. Seeing his younger brother’s mouth smeared with oil, he gently reminded him to wipe it clean.
Li Shengming focused on eating the crab leg meat and soon polished off most of it.
The last juicy, fragrant piece sat on the plate—he looked at his big brother on the right, then at his second brother on the left.
“Can I eat it?”
Zhuang Shaozhou sneered, “You think I’d fight a kid for a piece of meat?”
Li Shengming chuckled, and just as he was about to pick it up with his chopsticks, Zhuang Qiting, sitting across from him, beat him to it and slowly put it in his own mouth.
“Daddy…” Li Shengming was miserable. That was the last piece! Who knew when Mom would cook again?
Zhuang Qiting’s expression didn’t change. “You’ve had enough already.”
The whole plate of crab legs had been eaten by this little rascal, and Zhuang Qiting himself had barely had a few bites. He couldn’t very well fight his son for food—that would be too embarrassing.
“Mommy… Daddy stole my food. I’m still hungry. I want your Scallion Lobster next!” Li Shengming turned to Li Yaru, pulling out his best act of being spoiled.
Zhuang Qiting looked coldly at his son’s antics, both disdainful and amused. No wonder Li Yaru doted on the youngest—he was the best at acting spoiled! Women really were shallow.
Under the table, Li Yaru kicked Zhuang Qiting. “What’s the point of bullying your son? Fine, I’ll make it the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow, I need to rest. Cooking one meal is exhausting. If you want more, go to the restaurant yourself!”
Li Shengming beamed, showing a mouthful of pearly teeth. “Thank you for your hard work, Mommy. I love you so much!”
Zhuang Qiting forced a smile, picking up a piece of stir-fried celery.
Li Yaru sighed inwardly. Ah, she also wanted to be the virtuous mother who washed her hands to make soup, but… she didn’t want to make things hard for herself!
Women who cook often get yellow skin. Better not.
Cooking was never her hobby. Since childhood, she had helped her father in the greasy kitchen out of necessity—to pass on the craft and to make a living.
Li Yaru had always known she’d inherit the family restaurant, so she never cared much for school.
Back then, who cared about getting into university? A small company job paid seven or eight thousand a month at most—better to go home and be the boss. So she only focused on Chinese, math, and English.
You needed eloquence to greet guests, math for the accounts, and English to fleece foreigners!
She had her life planned out clearly: take the restaurant to the mainland, to her mother’s hometown. But life wasn’t a train; you couldn’t just follow the tracks as planned.
When she was young, she never imagined she’d one day get involved with Zhuang Qiting, who owned a trillion-dollar business empire—let alone end up married to him.
After a day’s rest, Li Yaru kept her promise and made Scallion Lobster for her youngest son.
Zhuang Qiting came home from a social engagement and found Li Yaru in the kitchen. He loosened his tie and leaned against the island, watching her cook with full attention.
This scene matched his youthful fantasies perfectly: coming home after a busy day to a gentle, virtuous wife preparing dinner.
Zhuang Qiting’s eyes darkened, as if he were lost in the moment, watching her quietly for a long time.
When Li Yaru finally noticed him, she jumped in surprise. “Are you meditating like a monk? Hey—you…” She tiptoed over the island, waving her hand in front of his eyes.
Zhuang Qiting caught her wrist, caressed it a few times, then let go. “What delicious food are you making?”
“Scallion Lobster. Ming Zai wouldn’t stop pestering me for it.”
Li Yaru put on gloves, chopped up a live Australian lobster with practiced fingers, evenly dusted it with cornstarch, then quickly sliced the leeks, onions, and scallions.
Her knife skills had slipped a bit, not as sharp as in her youth.
Zhuang Qiting made no move to leave, just sat there leisurely, chin in hand, watching his wife busy herself. “If he pesters you, you cook for him.”
“Fine, better than having him nag me every day. It’s annoying.”
“What about me?”
“What about you?” Li Yaru glanced up at him, her earlobe’s round conch pearl swaying.
“I say I want to eat, but you’ve never cooked for me.” Zhuang Qiting said with a smile.
Li Yaru couldn’t stand his act. She snorted. “You eat delicacies every day—haven’t had enough? Didn’t I cook for you when I was younger? You got drunk and stormed into my restaurant, demanded I serve you, ordered an eighty-eight thousand Hongmen Banquet to show me who’s boss, and even threatened that I’d serve you for life. Have you forgotten?”
A trace of embarrassment flashed across Zhuang Qiting’s face.
That was pretty shameful. When he first met Li Yaru, he was only twenty-four or twenty-five, arrogant and reckless.
Hot oil in the wok, in went the lobster, quickly fried to a crisp, tempting red.
She scooped out the meat, switched to a cold pan to stir-fry the three kinds of onions—a series of smooth, practiced moves, nothing like a lady who hadn’t cooked in ages.
The fragrance wafted out, making Zhuang Qiting hungry. He’d only had cold cuts and snacks at his engagement.
Just then, a servant came to deliver a message: Third Young Master would be home an hour late tonight.
Li Yaru frowned—her phone was stuffed with four or five apology messages.
Ming Zai: [Mommy, sorry sorry, my friend insisted I play a game, it’s already started… can’t get away… you must save my lobster for me! I love you I love you I love you [kiss][kiss]]
“You heartless brat! Like hell I’m saving any for you!” Li Yaru huffed.
Zhuang Qiting raised his brows, went to the cupboard, and took out two sets of tableware. “If he’s not coming home, then he’s not coming home. I’m hungry anyway.”
Li Yaru said she wouldn’t save any, but deep down, she still doted on her son. “…Fine, I’ll save this dish for Ming Zai. Otherwise, if he comes back and doesn’t get any, he’ll just pester me again.”
There were plenty of dishes tonight—besides the lobster, the rest were made by the chef: abalone with shiitake and goose web, crab roe tofu, steamed grouper, baked ribs, poached choy sum.
Zhuang Qiting personally brought the lobster to the table, his brow furrowed, looking very stern—covering up his childish act of stealing food from his son.
He said seriously, “If he can’t be on time, he has to accept the consequences. The world won’t wait for him. In a couple of years, he’ll be an adult—he needs to know that throwing tantrums won’t solve everything. If you keep spoiling him, he’ll be ruined.”
“No need to make such a big deal about it. You barely ever discipline him anyway.” Li Yaru was never the type to be harsh with kids. Being late for dinner was no big deal—she was often late herself.
“Exactly because I don’t discipline him enough, he’s become so spoiled.”
He seemed determined to teach his son a lesson, so Li Yaru let him be. If Ming Zai got mad, it wouldn’t be her fault.
That Australian lobster Li Yaru made ended up two-thirds in Zhuang Qiting’s stomach, the rest in Li Yaru’s bowl—he didn’t even leave a shell.
For once, the couple enjoyed a quiet family meal. Afterward, Li Yaru took the two big guard dogs from the Zhuang Residence for a walk by the sea.
While Li Yaru was out, Zhuang Qiting told the kitchen to make another Scallion Lobster and instructed them to say it was made by the lady herself if the young master asked.