Chen Yong was afraid that someone else might swoop in at the last minute and snatch the opportunity away, so he contacted the production team of Village of Treasures that very afternoon to finalize the contract details. The next morning, he had Zhao Biezhi go sign the contract.
The first recording session was scheduled for February 28th. Before she left, Chen Yong repeatedly urged Zhao Biezhi to stay home during this period, keep a low profile, and avoid going out much—a suggestion that suited her perfectly.
Not long after the contract was signed, the other party transferred half of the payment to the company’s account, with the remaining half to be paid after the recording was completed.
Since Zhao Biezhi was a complete nobody in the entertainment industry, the contract wasn’t signed per episode but for an entire season outright.
After the company took its thirty percent cut, Zhao Biezhi still had over fifty thousand yuan in hand. If she counted the six months of recording, that came to about eight thousand a month, which she was fairly satisfied with.
After all, she could still get the company’s two-thousand-yuan base salary on top of that. In this day and age, she knew better than anyone how hard it was to find a job that brought in over ten thousand a month.
Back at home, she studied in peace for another half month until finally, the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth lunar month arrived.
Zhao Biezhi had booked her high-speed rail ticket back to S City well in advance. After nearly six hours on the train, she finally arrived at the provincial capital in the southwest.
Getting off the train, she took a taxi directly to the orphanage where the original owner had grown up.
The orphanage was located in the old city district, surrounded by aging residential buildings. A modest courtyard at the corner of the street was all the space the orphanage occupied.
Colorful lights were strung around the trees lining the roads, and bright red lanterns hung from the streetlamps, giving the area a festive New Year atmosphere.
When Zhao Biezhi pushed open the gate and walked in, a few children in the yard were huddled around a stone table reading storybooks. She casually glanced over and noticed they were exactly the batch of storybooks she had ordered online earlier.
This time, Zhao Biezhi had only brought back a few practice booklets and some clothes for changing. As for the New Year goods and the books and stationery she’d bought for the children, she’d had them delivered directly to the orphanage by courier.
Just then, a kind-faced woman walked out of the small building nearby. She froze for a moment upon seeing Zhao Biezhi, then exclaimed with delight, “Zhizhi? When did you get back? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have gone to the station to pick you up.”
“Mother Director,” Zhao Biezhi said, her eyes curving into a smile.
The middle-aged woman before her was the director of the orphanage, Zhao Yuan. She was the one who had taken in the original Zhao Biezhi, who had lost both parents and had nowhere to go.
Zhao Yuan’s voice also drew the attention of the children reading storybooks nearby, who all turned to look at her before rushing over in a swarm.
“Sister Zhizhi is back!”
“Sister, are you a big star now? Will we be able to see you on TV?”
A bunch of little munchkins asked all at once, and Zhao Biezhi couldn’t help but laugh inwardly, thinking to herself that she was hardly qualified to be a big star. Still, on the surface, she patted the head of the little girl who had asked that question.
“Sister isn’t a big star yet, but I am going to be on a show soon. Once it airs, you should be able to see me on TV.”
“Wow—” At that, the children around her all gasped in amazement.
“Alright, alright, Zhizhi must be tired after sitting in the car for so long. You all go read your books now, don’t keep pestering her.”
Zhao Yuan called out to the children, and they scattered in a flurry, returning to the stone table—though they still kept stealing glances at Zhao Biezhi.
Zhao Yuan led Zhao Biezhi inside. After the two exchanged pleasantries, Zhao Biezhi tentatively brought up her decision to prepare for the civil service exam and terminate her contract with the company.
To her surprise, Zhao Yuan was momentarily stunned at first, then let out a look of immense relief.
“Zhizhi, I’m so glad you’ve come to think this way. Actually, I never approved of you signing with them back then—the entertainment industry runs far too deep after all. If you can return to S City and land a civil service position, it won’t have been in vain that you worked so hard to get into such a good university.”
Zhao Biezhi hadn’t expected Zhao Yuan to accept her change of direction so readily. But then again, thinking it over—when it came to civil service and public institution exams, ninety-five percent of elders across all of Huaxia would be supportive. So perhaps it wasn’t all that surprising after all.
That evening, Zhao Biezhi and Zhao Yuan cooked dinner together in the kitchen. Though the orphanage wasn’t well-off, they never skimped on the children’s meals—at the very least, every meal was guaranteed to have one meat dish and one vegetable dish.
Zhao Biezhi made the meat dish: “Lotus Sliced Chicken.”
“Lotus” referred to egg whites. She mashed chicken breast and egg whites together into a fine paste, spread it into thin slices in a warm oil pan to pan-fry until cooked, then stir-fried it with mung bean sprouts, seasoning with salt and MSG. After plating, she drizzled a spoonful of hot oil over the top. The result was fresh, fragrant, silky, and tender—cooked through yet not burnt.
The dish earned unanimous praise from everyone. Zhao Biezhi couldn’t resist pulling out her phone to snap a photo as a keepsake, then casually posted it to her fan group on “Tiaofu.”
Everyone in this group were long-time followers who regularly watched her livestreams. They’d cheer each other on in their studies and exchange ideas when questions came up.
Zhao Biezhi occasionally helped answer questions and would share dishes she’d cooked from time to time, offering everyone a reference.
Biezhi: Today’s recipe share [Image] [Image]
Almost before the message had even been sent out, replies began popping up on the screen one after another.
[Wow, that looks so delicious.]
[Sister Zhi’s cooking skills are as good as ever. How about considering a career switch to food blogger in the future?]
[No way! Sister Zhi needs to keep leading us in our studies!]
[You dummy, isn’t it fine the way it is now? Speaking of which, really grateful for Sister Zhi’s recipe shares—simple and tasty. It’s a godsend for those of us with clumsy hands.]
[I haven’t eaten yet—gonna try this right now!]
Zhao Biezhi glanced through a few replies before putting her phone away and lowering her head to eat.
…
On the other side.
Lu Xichao blinked as he looked at the chat interface on the screen before him, then suddenly grabbed his phone and rose from his seat, hurrying out of the room and racing downstairs toward the kitchen with rapid footsteps.
Inside the kitchen, Auntie Wang, the family’s housekeeper, was busy preparing dinner. Lu Xichao wasn’t particularly picky about food, but he ate less at every meal than a cat would.
To coax him into eating a few more bites, Auntie Wang had racked her brains—unfortunately with little success. No matter what dish she made, Lu Xichao would take a couple of bites and then leave the table.
So when she turned around and found Lu Xichao himself standing at the doorway, hesitantly staring at her, she was more than a little startled.
Was the sun rising from the west? The young master had actually come to the kitchen on his own!
“Xichao, are you hungry? Dinner will be ready soon.” She broke into a gentle smile at Lu Xichao.
Lu Xichao pressed his lips together, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, but ultimately mustered up the courage to show Auntie Wang what was written on his memo pad.
【I want to eat this.】
Below it was the photo of dinner and recipe that Zhao Biezhi had just posted. Auntie Wang glanced down at it for a moment, and her face immediately lit up with delight.
You want to eat Hibiscus Chicken Slices? Alright, alright, I’ll make it right away!”
Auntie Wang was quick and nimble with her hands, and since this was a dish Lu Xichao had rarely ever requested by name, she naturally put in extra effort to make it the best she could for him.
Half an hour later, Lu Xichao looked at the Hibiscus Chicken Slices on the table before him, which looked almost exactly like the one in the photo, and a satisfied smile spread across his face, the small dimples at the corners of his mouth faintly visible.
Roughly speaking… this counted as him having a meal with Zhizhi, Lu Xichao secretly thought to himself.