Transmigrating Into A Sadistic Novel And Becoming A Master Of Painting Rosy Pictures - Chapter 38

Bian Yingning had no idea what Duanmu Zhengjie was thinking or concluding.

Bian family businesses held at least two exchange meetings annually. The original host attended every one, so most managers knew who their young boss was.

As Bian Yingning strode in with an air of confidence, before the waiter could greet her, a smiling manager pushed past. “Young Boss! Why are you here? You didn’t say you were coming! We weren’t prepared!”

Bian Yingning was flattered. She smiled politely. “No need to fuss. I’m visiting a friend nearby and wanted to have lunch here.”

“This is my Sister Duanmu. Treat her like you would my father, understand?”

Duanmu Zhengjie: ?

So, I’m like her father?

“Yes, yes! Miss Duanmu, hello!” The manager greeted Duanmu Zhengjie.

Duanmu Zhengjie nodded without speaking.

“Young Boss, this way? There’s a private room available.”

“No private room. I’ll just take some dishes to go. Bring the menu.” Bian Yingning glanced around; the restaurant was full.

“Right away.” The manager brought the menu, and Bian Yingning asked Duanmu Zhengjie to order.

Since it was takeout, Duanmu Zhengjie ordered corn bone soup and rice for Duanmu Zhenghao, plus roast goose and seasonal vegetables. For herself, she chose simple stir-fried beef with rice noodles.

It was a bit dry, but she hadn’t had it in a while.

The manager looked hesitant when Duanmu Zhengjie ordered the rice noodles. “Young Boss, the chef who makes the best rice noodles is off today. The other chefs might only achieve 80% of the flavor. Is that alright?”

The manager was worried Bian Yingning would complain if the food wasn’t perfect.

Bian Yingning, scanning the restaurant, glanced at the menu. “It’s fine. I’ll cook it for my sister myself.”

Duanmu Zhengjie was surprised. “You… can cook this?”

This was unexpected.

She was about to say it didn’t matter who cooked it, as long as it was edible, but Bian Yingning wanted to cook it herself.

“Miss Duanmu, our Young Boss’s cooking skills are as good as our head chef’s. She’d be a star chef anywhere,” the manager flattered.

Bian Yingning smiled. “Stop flattering me. I just learned a bit while working here.”

The Bian family’s ancestor was a chef. He opened a restaurant, seized opportunities, and expanded into lodging, combining both businesses.

The original host was taught that a good boss couldn’t just manage; they had to understand the industry to succeed.

So, although the original host was only in her twenties, she had skills in both Western and Chinese cuisine.

Duanmu Zhengjie’s gaze towards Bian Yingning changed subtly. She couldn’t pinpoint the change, but there was a gleam in her eyes.

“Sister Duanmu, please wait here. I’ll cook it for you. It’ll be quick,” Bian Yingning put down her bag, rolled up her nonexistent sleeves, and was about to enter the kitchen when Duanmu Zhengjie stopped her.

“Can… can I watch?”

The kitchen was usually off-limits, but Duanmu Zhengjie suddenly wanted to see Bian Yingning’s unknown side.

Bian Yingning smiled brightly. “Of course, as long as you don’t mind the oily smoke.”

…

The kitchen was large. With many customers, the chefs were busy.

As Duanmu Zhengjie stepped inside, she saw the fire, steam, the sizzling sounds of stir-frying, and the chefs’ skillful movements.

A thought occurred to her: The everyday life of ordinary people is the most comforting.

“It’s smoky. Sister Duanmu, you should wait outside?” Bian Yingning, wearing a chef’s uniform and hat, looked different.

Duanmu Zhengjie watched her quietly, shaking her head and insisting on staying.

The kitchen’s exhaust system was powerful. The initial shock subsided, and the environment was bearable.

The manager gave Bian Yingning a large wok and an assistant to prepare the ingredients. Bian Yingning arranged the ingredients while asking the manager to prepare winter melon and clam soup.

She said to Duanmu Zhengjie, “Stir-fried beef noodles are rich. Winter melon and clam soup will balance it.”

“Okay.” Duanmu Zhengjie, in her formal suit, looked out of place in the kitchen, yet her calm demeanor didn’t seem strange.

While Bian Yingning blanched the vegetables, she asked, “Sister, is there anything you don’t eat?”

Duanmu Zhengjie looked at the ingredients—onions, bean sprouts, and chives. She whispered, “I don’t like onions.”

Bian Yingning looked delighted, then frowned. “Sister, we’re alike! I don’t like onions either. That sweet smell is unbearable, even though they’re nutritious.”

Duanmu Zhengjie had never seen a wealthy heiress act so strangely. She laughed, then covered her mouth, feeling embarrassed.

It was too late; Bian Yingning had forgotten to remove the blanched vegetables from the hot water. It was like seeing a snow lotus blossom.

“Sister, you look beautiful when you smile,” Bian Yingning laughed, infected by her smile.

Duanmu Zhengjie’s smile faltered for a moment before widening again. “You look silly when you smile.”

? Silly?

Bian Yingning snapped back to reality.

I complimented her looks, and she calls me silly?

It’s supposed to be a two-way street!

At the very least, she could have called me cute…

Forget it, the word cute reminds me of Shang Qinghui’s chubby face, hmph.

Discarding the overcooked vegetables, Bian Yingning changed the water and blanched the vegetables again. After draining the water and drying the wok, she added oil and beef…

Duanmu Zhengjie watched Bian Yingning’s methodical process. In less than ten minutes, a fragrant, steaming, and appetizing plate of stir-fried noodles was ready.

Bian Yingning first served Duanmu Zhengjie a small portion to try, then tasted it herself.

“Mmm, it’s delicious! I’m so amazing,” Bian Yingning said in a dreamy tone.

Duanmu Zhengjie, surprised by the taste, swallowed her praise along with the noodles.

She kept glancing at Bian Yingning. She couldn’t compliment her anymore; any more praise would make her fly.

…

Leaving the hospital, the sun was shining, no sign of the recent rain.

“Ah, H City’s weather is like a woman’s mood,” Bian Yingning sighed at the roadside, asking the largest bodyguard to buy her a strawberry cheese milk tea.

Watching the tall, muscular bodyguard queueing for milk tea among a group of girls, Bian Yingning shook her head. “The world is going downhill.”

The remaining bodyguards pretended not to hear.

Sipping her sweet and sour milk tea, Bian Yingning stretched. “Work’s done. Let’s go home.”

That’s enough for today’s tasks. She needed to work on inheriting the family business.

…

Bian Yingning was struggling with management studies when the system’s voice suddenly rang out.

A series of points credited, almost overwhelming her.

“Huh? Shang Qinghui’s task is complete? I didn’t do anything.”

Her points had been spent on Shang Qinghui’s dance costume, leaving only a little experience. She expected a long process of saving up, but these recent tasks were so rewarding.

[Host’s total points: 2149 points, experience: 35]

She now had 2149 points. There was still a 50-point task with Duanmu Zhengjie. Reaching 9999 points wasn’t far off.

…

After class, Bian Yingning was about to go to the cooking lab when Zhang Zhizhi stopped her. “Remember, there’s a final political science class tonight. Don’t forget.”

Political science class?

Bian Yingning tossed her hair. “I’d forgotten. What time?”

She remembered falling asleep in political science class.

Hopefully, the teacher had forgotten her.

“6:30 to 9:30.” Zhang Zhizhi said, “There’s a test afterward. Don’t forget.”

“Okay.”

Before reaching the lab, Bian Yingning received a call from Hua Cancan. “Where are you? What are you doing?”

“At school, studying.”

Hua Cancan scoffed. “Studying? Come out and drink with me.”

Bian Yingning frowned. “It’s afternoon. Can’t you just soak in a wine vat?”

“I don’t care. Are you coming or not?” Hua Cancan yelled.

Bian Yingning checked the time—4 pm.

“Fine, where are you?”

Hua Cancan sent a location—a Japanese restaurant near the school.

Drinking at a Japanese restaurant?

…

Bian Yingning found that this place was different from the sushi restaurants she remembered. There was a faint scent of sake.

Hua Cancan was a wine fiend.

She had a private room. A waitress in a kimono led Bian Yingning to the room and opened the door to reveal Hua Cancan slumped on the table, facing the door, staring at her glass, with terrible posture.

Bian Yingning took off her shoes and sat opposite her. There were four or five empty bottles on the table.

“What are you doing, getting drunk in the afternoon?” Bian Yingning tapped Hua Cancan’s forehead. She only blinked.

“I ran away from home.”

“Ran away from home?” Bian Yingning frowned.

Hua Cancan was a little tyrant at home, only her aunt could control her. “Another fight with your aunt?”

“…”

Thinking of Hua Jiangrong’s fate in the original story and the original host’s memories, Bian Yingning poured herself a drink.

“Be nice to your aunt. It’s not easy for her. She loves you. Don’t always argue with her.”