Chapter 72: A Kiss Seals the Promise of Love

Her jade-like face was within reach, a mere snap of the fingers away. If not now, then when? Without hesitation, Zhou Sen pressed his lips to those soft, rosy petals, and in that instant, all the pain in his chest vanished.

Bai Yulan was stunned, never expecting Zhou Sen to be so bold as to seize the moment and kiss her forcefully. She was about to react, but Zhou Sen was already lost in the moment, pulling her close and kissing her fiercely, heedless of anything else.

Having already taken action, there was no turning back. He had never kissed a girl like this in his life; finally, he was doing something he'd always been too afraid to try.

Beside them, Axiang stared in disbelief. What was happening here?

“Let go?”

“No!”

“Are you going to let go or not?” Bai Yulan’s cheeks burned like a sunset, having never been kissed so boldly. Even Old Ma, her former suitor, had always stopped short.

Wait—no, Old Ma never even—

“If you promise not to kick me out or hit me, I’ll let go,” Zhou Sen said, feeling a dull ache in his chest again but still holding Bai Yulan tightly. This soft body—a moment longer in his embrace was pure pleasure.

It was truly pain mixed with joy.

“Fine, I promise,” Bai Yulan replied, embarrassed and anxious. How had she ended up with such a rogue?

“Do you mean it?”

“When have I ever broken my word?” Bai Yulan retorted.

“Alright, I trust you.” Zhou Sen slowly released her, and they finally separated.

“Axiang, throw this scoundrel out for me! From now on, he is forbidden to step foot in the Fragrant Pavilion!” Bai Yulan snatched the brass heater from Zhou Sen’s hands, her pretty face turning cold as she ordered Axiang.

“Huh?”

“I knew you’d go back on your word.” Zhou Sen clutched his chest, sighing, “Ah, women and petty men are the hardest to keep!”

“Lan, haven’t you been listless these past few days? Brother Sen finally came to see you, and you’re kicking him out?” Axiang chimed in, her words a timely assist.

Bai Yulan’s stern expression faltered.

Zhou Sen chuckled. As expected, it was all an act. Women—always saying one thing and meaning another. If she truly didn’t care for him, would she have let him embrace her for so long?

“Axiang!”

“Ouch, my chest hurts…” Zhou Sen cried out, despite his thick clothing—Bai Yulan’s blow had really stung.

How could her grip be so strong? No wonder she’d grown up practicing martial arts. If he married her, would he be able to keep his authority at home?

Bai Yulan, furious, retreated into her room. Axiang came over to help Zhou Sen, carefully asking where he was hurt and whether he needed to see a doctor.

Zhou Sen grinned, “No worries. Let’s head to the kitchen. I’m going to show you how to cook a chicken.”

“What kind of chicken?”

“Would you prefer Beggar’s Chicken or Spicy Hotpot Chicken?”

“Beggar’s Chicken! I heard it’s a famous dish. Brother Sen, can you make it?” Axiang’s eyes lit up at the mention of food.

“Yes, let me check if we have the ingredients. If not, there’s still time to go to the market.” Zhou Sen nodded.

After checking the kitchen and pantry, the two went straight to the North Market in Dao Wai (now called Fujiadian).

At this hour, there weren’t many shoppers, but most stalls were still open, though the selection was a bit sparse. Fresh vegetables were rare, mostly dried goods and frozen produce. Live fish were available, but pricier. Honestly, it wasn’t necessary—once the fish was out of water, it’d freeze solid anyway; better to buy frozen fish.

“Brother Sen, I want fish.”

“Alright, let’s buy some!”

“Brother Sen, I want sweet and sour ribs.”

“Are there none left at home?” Zhou Sen asked.

“We’ve eaten them all.”

“Alright, let’s buy less today; if we buy too much, it’ll be hard to carry.” Zhou Sen nodded.

Soon, Zhou Sen and Axiang had chosen everything: one chicken, two fish, three pounds of ribs, mushrooms, vermicelli, tofu skin, and—most importantly—the lotus leaves needed for Beggar’s Chicken. They had to ask at several shops before finding them. It was no easy task.

Fully loaded, they returned to the Fragrant Pavilion and started bustling in the kitchen. Tonight, Zhou Sen planned to make sweet and sour ribs, Beggar’s Chicken, West Lake Vinegar Fish, and Braised Dried Tofu. For the soup, knowing girls liked sweets, he prepared glutinous rice balls in sweet rice wine.

“Careful, it’s hot. Let me…” Beggar’s Chicken was ready, and Zhou Sen took it out of the oven, telling Axiang to step back.

“Just leave it there; it’ll stay warm for a while. By the time we eat, it’ll be just right.”

“Lan, dinner’s ready!” Axiang called, while Bai Yulan sat under the lamp, studying the design drafts Zhou Sen had brought for tea houses and wine shops.

Many concepts were new to her, but Zhou Sen was different; what she didn’t know didn’t mean others didn’t. Real skill showed in the details.

If Zhou Sen’s design plan was followed, these two shops could indeed make money in the future.

But the investment would be significant, and there was much to do. Zhou Sen would certainly be a hands-off boss; it would all fall to her.

Fortunately, the Fragrant Pavilion still had a dozen sisters willing to stand by her. Most were older and didn’t want to venture out again; some were grateful and loyal, willing to share her fortunes and setbacks.

These women would be her foundation for a comeback.

Nowadays, using female waitstaff and tea experts in wine shops and tea houses wasn’t unusual, but an all-female staff was rare.

Tea houses needed pastry chefs; wine shops needed cooks—these weren’t easy to find. She didn’t plan to recruit locally in Ice City.

She could look in nearby cities, perhaps even New Capital or Fengtian.

In any case, these shops wouldn’t be opening soon.

All this required money. Before, she’d have had to pinch every penny; now, at least she didn’t have to worry about funds.

To attract customers, a tea house needed more than just service; it needed unique features to keep guests, like resident performers—storytellers, comedians, drum singers.

If a famous artist could be signed for exclusive performances, business would be stable. But most celebrities had established venues, and poaching them would cost a fortune and risk offending others…

This was one reason Bai Yulan had hesitated to shift her business.

One move affected everything; decisions couldn’t be made lightly.

It was best to cultivate her own talent, or nurture a small group of performers. But that took time. If there was no other choice, she’d have to hire itinerant entertainers for now.

Her mind was absorbed in these matters; it took Axiang calling three times before she heard her.

“Lan, all the dishes are ready—let’s eat,” Axiang said, bringing in a large, muddy egg.

“What’s this?”

“Beggar’s Chicken, made by Brother Sen,” Axiang replied, grinning.

“He can make this?” Bai Yulan asked, surprised.

“Brother Sen can do so much. It’ll be delicious—Lan, you must eat plenty tonight.”

Zhou Sen washed his hands and wiped his face, coming in from outside. “Axiang, why didn’t you open the Beggar’s Chicken?”

“Brother Sen, I was waiting for you to break it open yourself.”

“Haha, no need for ceremony.” Zhou Sen laughed, took the wooden stick prepared for the occasion, and tapped the mud coating on the lotus leaf. The clay fell away easily.

“What a wonderful aroma!” The scent of lotus leaf filled the air, even Bai Yulan couldn’t help but look curious.

He opened the leaf, revealing the whole chicken inside. The fragrance of chicken mingled with the lotus leaf’s freshness, instantly triggering the appetite.

“Here, Yulan, have a drumstick!” Zhou Sen tore off a leg and placed it in Bai Yulan’s bowl.

“Axiang, here’s one for you as well.” He gave the other drumstick to Axiang.

Bai Yulan’s expression changed slightly, but she said nothing. She picked up the drumstick with her chopsticks and took a bite—tender and delicious, truly exceptional.

Then came the sweet and sour ribs and West Lake Vinegar Fish. Bai Yulan had tasted many dishes before, but these two surpassed her expectations.

Three people, four dishes and a soup—somehow, they finished it all.

After dinner, Axiang insisted on cleaning up, having eaten the most and needing to digest before bed.

“Have you looked at my design and revised plan?” Zhou Sen asked. He hadn’t come without reason.

“The plan is good, but the investment is considerable, and it won’t be easy to implement,” Bai Yulan said, rubbing her temples.

“I’ll help draw some attention to you. If nothing happens on your side, Su Wenqing and Old Qin won’t be at ease; they’ll keep pressuring you, send people to spy, even try to buy off those around you, planting spies,” Zhou Sen explained. “People like them are always tyrannical, never stopping until they get what they want.”

“How will you draw attention?”

“I registered a company. You sign a lease with me, renting part of the Fragrant Pavilion to my company for a tea and snack shop,” Zhou Sen said.

“You’re not plotting to take my Fragrant Pavilion, are you?”

“What plot? What’s mine is yours—it’s just moving from one hand to the other. If you want, you’re the boss of Sen’s Company. You write the contract yourself, however you like.” Zhou Sen chuckled.

Bai Yulan blushed, a rosy glow spreading across her cheeks.

“This is just a cover, to hide what we really want to do. Otherwise, if those two find out, they’ll sabotage things, and who knows if the tea house and wine shop can even open,” Zhou Sen said. “Besides, you’ve got over ten people now—don’t they need work? Get someone to teach them cooking, pastry making, and management. Kill two birds with one stone.”

“Will it work?”

“It will. Just trust me—my ventures never lose money.” Zhou Sen laughed. “Back home, I’ll study recipes and guarantee we’ll profit.”

“Isn’t this a bit off-track for you?” Bai Yulan asked.

“To be honest, being a policeman is dull. I’ve thought about quitting, but once you wear the uniform, you’re not your own master. Nothing to be done,” Zhou Sen replied.

“If you don’t want to do it, is someone forcing you?” Bai Yulan asked, surprised.

Zhou Sen sighed, “Forget it, you wouldn’t understand even if I told you.”

“How do you know I wouldn’t understand?” Bai Yulan’s beautiful eyes sparkled as she pressed him.

“It’s not so easy to refuse working for the Japanese. They don’t care about your wishes—if you quit, disaster will follow,” Zhou Sen sighed. “Also, being in uniform offers some protection; even if Old Qin and Su Wenqing want to harm me, they have to think twice.”

When Zhou Sen left, he was carrying a small bottle of medicinal wine Bai Yulan had quietly slipped to him, said to be a family heirloom.

She did care, after all.