Wu Shiren’s mouth twitched as he eyed Chen Qingqing up and down with a sidelong glance.
A cold, mocking smile crept across his face.
“Well, well—look who it is. If it isn’t little Qing girl! Haven’t seen you in years, and you’ve grown into quite the young lady. But mind that sharp tongue of yours—don’t go slandering me. I’ll have you know, I used to be from Nanshan Village too. By seniority, you should be calling me Uncle!”
“You? An uncle?” Chen Qingqing snorted. “You think you deserve that title?”
Wu Shiren feigned offense, his tone dripping with self-importance. “What’s this, child? I’m Wu Bao’an’s cousin, and your grandmother was my family’s aunt. You tell me—how am I not your elder?”
Chen Qingqing let out a disdainful laugh. “Since you know our families are related, why are you bullying my brother?”
Wu Shiren gave a derisive chuckle, clearly annoyed. “Bullying? How am I bullying him? He’s just doing some work. Every apprentice has to start from the bottom—why are you making such a fuss?”
“Oh, I’m the one making a fuss?” Chen Qingqing rolled her eyes and raised her voice. “My brother’s been working himself to death—one moment he’s shoveling, the next he’s sweeping—and you still find fault with him! You do nothing but bark orders and scold him. Do you even have a conscience?”
Wu Shiren put on a shameless grin, pretending not to care.
“I feed him and give him a place to sleep,” he said lazily. “He’s learning a trade from me, and you say I’m heartless? Fine then—if that’s how it is, take him and get out. I’m not forcing anyone to stay.”
Chen Qingqing raised a brow. “Don’t act so noble. You’ve been treating my brother like a servant, not an apprentice. If you didn’t want to hire real help, you could’ve just said so. No need to make yourself sound like some great benefactor.”
“Watch your mouth, girl!”
Wu Shiren’s face turned green and white by turns, her words hitting far too close to home.
When Chen Feng had first asked to learn cooking under him, he’d agreed easily. Cooking wasn’t something just anyone could master, after all—and the Chen family were simple peasants.
They could work hard, sure, but they weren’t the type to become skilled craftsmen. Even their so-called scholar couldn’t pass the lowest county exams.
He had always looked down on them.
But then, when Chen Feng actually started learning, the boy turned out to be frighteningly quick.
Back when Wu Shiren himself had been an apprentice, it had taken him half a month to properly master the proportions of oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar for a single dish.
Yet Chen Feng could get it right after one try.
Jealousy ate at him.
If this went on, the boy might surpass him in a year or two and open his own tavern.
That couldn’t happen.
How could some backwater bumpkin outshine him?
So from that day on, Wu Shiren never let Chen Feng near the cooking area again.
None of the senior chefs were allowed to teach him anything. Instead, he dumped all the hardest, dirtiest chores on the boy—hoping the grind would break his spirit and send him packing back home.
But to his surprise, Chen Feng endured.
He worked harder than ever, never complained, and never left.
Eventually, Wu Shiren even dismissed the other kitchen helpers.
Why pay for labor when he already had one fool willing to work for free?
And now this sharp-tongued girl had just exposed his entire scheme to his face. His cheeks burned with fury and shame.
He snapped, voice rising, “Chen Feng! Since your sister’s so eager to defend you, why don’t you just go home with her? I don’t want anyone saying I mistreat my apprentices!”
Chen Qingqing glared at him, then turned to grab her brother’s hand. “Come on, big brother. Let’s go home. You don’t owe this man a thing.”
Her brother shook her off, his expression panicked. “Qingqing, stop it. I’m not going home.”
Then he turned to Wu Shiren, bowing slightly, voice humble. “Shopkeeper, please don’t be angry. My sister’s young and doesn’t understand. Don’t hold it against her. I’ll stay. I’m not leaving.”
Wu Shiren tilted his chin up smugly, eyebrows arched in triumph. “Now that’s more like it. If you’re not leaving, then get back to work! Can’t you see the fire’s dying under the stove?”
“Yes, Shopkeeper.” Chen Feng hurried to the stove, wiping his hands on his apron. “Qingqing, wait for me outside,” he called over his shoulder.
Chen Qingqing felt utterly speechless.
What kind of spell had this man cast on her brother?
No—that wasn’t right.
Her brother, Chen Feng, was tall and strong, with a clear, intelligent look in his eyes.
He wasn’t stupid.
He had left home precisely because he couldn’t stand how their grandparents favored the third branch. He’d come here to stand on his own.
A man like that wouldn’t let himself be manipulated… unless there was something—or someone—he cared about here.
Her heart skipped. Don’t tell me… he wants to become a live-in son-in-law?!
No way!
The saying goes, “Better starve than work for kin, better die poor than till your in-law’s land.”
She absolutely couldn’t let her brother throw himself away like that!
“Brother,” she tried again, lowering her voice. “A man that cruel isn’t worth working yourself to the bone for.”
“I said enough, Qingqing. I’m not going back.” His tone left no room for argument.
Chen Qingqing sighed helplessly. “Fine, but at least take it easy. Don’t push yourself too hard.”
Before Chen Feng could reply, Wu Shiren’s shout came again, sharp and grating.
“Are you deaf, boy? Get moving! Chop those vegetables and wash those dishes—you think standing there gawking earns you wages? Useless fool!”
“I’m coming!” Chen Feng rushed back to the stove, sleeves rolled up.
“Brother…” Chen Qingqing muttered under her breath, utterly exasperated.
She couldn’t make sense of him.
Why was he so obedient?
Was he really planning to become Wu Shiren’s son-in-law?
Something about this whole situation felt wrong—but she couldn’t put her finger on what.
Just then, a female voice rang out, crisp and indignant:
“Father! Are you bullying Chen Feng again?”
The kitchen curtain was swept aside, and in walked Wu Cuilhua.
The instant he saw his daughter, Wu Shiren’s demeanor changed completely. His face lit up with a fawning smile. “Cuilhua, what are you doing back here? Go tend to the guests in the front hall.”
Chen Qingqing froze. Cuilhua?
Her mind flashed instantly to that line—‘Cuihua, bring out the pickled cabbage!’
She almost burst out laughing but managed to hold it in, studying the girl instead.
Wu Cuilhua wore a dark green dress; her eyes were large and bright, her complexion pale and smooth, and there was a faint smile playing on her lips.
Seeing her, Chen Qingqing’s suspicion deepened—so she was the reason her brother wouldn’t leave.
Wu Cuilhua smiled gently. “Father, I’ve told you countless times—hire a few helpers. Chen Feng’s been doing the work of three men; how could he possibly manage?”
“Oh, my dear girl,” Wu Shiren said with a groan, “you talk as if money grows on trees! We’re a small business—how can we afford extra hands?”
Wu Cuilhua glanced toward Chen Feng, who was drenched in sweat, her expression softening with pity.
From the very first day he came to the tavern, his diligence and honesty had caught her eye. Slowly, affection had bloomed in her heart.
But her father treated him like a beast of burden—making him do all the hardest tasks, never satisfied, always scolding.
She couldn’t defy her father outright in front of everyone, so she spoke as gently as she could:
“Father, you can’t earn all the money in the world. Don’t save a few coins at the cost of treating someone like a slave.”