Chapter 117: A Perfect Match Of Talent And Beauty
Entering the private room, Cao Weida led the two to sit down.
Fan Wu Ye, however, wasn’t polite at all and sat down boldly, but Mohe was somewhat uneasy.
Dongxing Tower is one of the Eight Great Buildings, with a long heritage and a reputation known to all.
Not only are the dishes delicious, but crucially, the atmosphere is high-end, grand, and upscale.
Dongxing Tower’s decor is very stylish; such high-end restaurants have long commonly used electric lamps, mostly hanging chandeliers or table and wall lamps, with soft light that’s not harsh.
Even in case of a power outage, there are backup brass or white porcelain oil lamps, which serve as emergency lighting while adding a touch of elegance.
The elegant private rooms use even more exquisite “gas-dead-wind lamps” or copper chandeliers with carved patterns, which look very upscale at a glance.
The tableware is even more exquisite, mainly fine porcelain; bowls, plates, and dishes are mostly white porcelain with blue-and-white or gold-painted decorations, soup bowls come with lids, soup spoons are brass or white porcelain, and high-end dishes use silver tableware, especially elaborate when hosting banquets.
With such standards, not to mention now—even in later generations, it would be a proper high-end consumption venue.
Fan Wu Ye had been wealthy before; what scene hasn’t he seen? Naturally, he wouldn’t show any timidity.
But Mohe was born into a poor family; even now, the porcelain bowls at her brother’s house have chips—when has she ever seen such a luxurious dining environment?
She felt anxious and a bit inferior inside; after sitting down, she was even more restless and at a loss.
Seeing this, Cao Weida gently patted her arm and comforted her mildly: “Don’t be nervous. No matter how high-end it is, it’s just a place to eat. No matter how delicious, it all ends up as a lump of grain cycle in the toilet.”
Mohe’s face instantly flushed red, and she said coquettishly: “Big Brother Cao, what are you saying? That’s too… too…”
“Hahaha~~ I think Cao Ye is right!” Fan Wu Ye laughed heartily. Although they hadn’t known each other long, he felt Cao Weida was very much to his taste. “The words are a bit crude, but the reasoning is spot on.”
“Look at your brother here—formerly living in luxury with nectar and jade dew, delicacies of land and sea, riding rickshaws and teasing birds, sipping fancy flower tea—all of it ended up contributed to the latrine, adding more fertilizer to the fields.”
“Now that your brother has fallen on hard times, the food isn’t as good as before, the clothes aren’t as grand, but the fertilizer in the fields shows no difference, and my health hasn’t suffered from the cold.”
“So, don’t have any psychological burden—eat what you should eat, drink what you should drink.”
Cao Weida glanced at him; he could tell that Fan Wu Ye was mocking himself while easing Mohe’s tension.
But in the end, who would choose coarse food and vegetables if they could have delicacies of land and sea?
If he really didn’t care, why would Fan Wu Ye be scheming to make big money?
It was just a matter of being obsessed with saving face.
He cupped his hands and smiled: “You’ve got the clearest perspective. This ideological awareness is something we peddlers and walkers need to learn.”
He passed over the menu from the attendant’s hand,
“Come on, Fifth Master, let’s not just chat. You’re the expert—you order.”
Fan Wu Ye had the attendant step back a bit, looked Cao Weida up and down, then leaned in and whispered: “Cao Ye, did you bring enough money?”
Cao Weida smiled. “Fifth Master, rest assured—order freely. I have some face around here. Even if I didn’t bring enough, we can just charge it to my account.”
Hearing this, Fan Wu Ye knew the score—this was a man who wasn’t short on cash, and he’d clearly been to Dongxing Tower more than once or twice, or he couldn’t have such pull.
Thinking of this made him even more tempted by his own plans.
He subtly glanced at the sister who kept stealing looks at Cao Weida, feeling delighted inside. “Alright, since you’ve said so, I won’t hold back.”
Bannerman descendants place great importance on dining etiquette.
Even those downfallen Bannerman descendants eat a bowl of cornmeal porridge as if it were nectar and jade dew, putting on an exceedingly pretentious air.
Fan Wu Ye took a white cloth from nearby and draped it over his legs, brushed his semi-long hair back from his ears with both hands, picked up the menu, and spoke eloquently,
“When it comes to fine food, Beiping City’s top are the Eight Great Buildings, and among them, Dongxing Tower takes the lead!”
“Dongxing Tower belongs to the Jiaodong cuisine style from Shandong: Fukuro chicken slices, stewed mandarin fish roe, scallion-braised sea cucumber, sauce-exploded chicken cubes, fried duck gizzards, and so on—all signature dishes of Dongxing Tower!”
“Speaking of these signature dishes, they all have stories. Take this stewed mandarin fish roe, for example—it”
Once he started on his specialty, Fan Wu Ye was unstoppable, his little mouth rattling on.
Cao Weida listened with great interest. Though these Bannerman descendants were more pretentious than one another, one had to admit that in eating, drinking, and fun, later generations’ so-called second-gen heirs might not match their knowledge—these second-gens made eating, drinking, and fun their old profession!
After a while, Mohe couldn’t stand it and quietly kicked Fan Wu Ye, finally stopping his torrent of words and earning a reproachful look.
People came today to treat us to a meal, but here you are yapping away without ordering a single dish.
Fan Wu Ye smacked his lips reluctantly and stopped with lingering desire.
Cao Weida had maxed-out emotional intelligence, truly considerate of his feelings, giving full face—he hadn’t felt this respected in a long time. With such a rare chance, how could he not savor it?
But he wasn’t entirely lacking emotional intelligence; after Mohe’s interruption, his intelligence somewhat took the high ground.
“There are just three of us today. Times are chaotic with war—not like before—so no need for extravagance. Cao Ye, you’re the host—pick one of these signature dishes?”
“Having Fifth Master Fan here today has really opened my eyes.”
Cao Weida smiled and sighed: “Though I’ve eaten here a few times, it was like Pigsy eating ginseng fruit—only now do I know these dishes have such a long history.”
He pushed the menu back and smiled:
“Fan Wu Ye, as I said before, you’re the expert. Today you’re the distinguished guest—you order.”
Seeing Cao Weida wasn’t just being polite, Fan Wu Ye nodded with a hearty laugh: “Then I’ll overstep. Hey, waiter, which of these signature dishes on your menu are available now?”
Things aren’t like before—Beiping’s supplies are tight now, with strict controls on grain, meat, seafood, and other raw materials, transportation blocked, so even these historic Eight Great Buildings suffer shortages, reductions, or quality drops due to lack of ingredients.
Even locally easy-to-get items like chicken, duck, pork, seasonal vegetables, etc., though still supplied, are far inferior in selection and portions.
The attendant smiled politely and mildly: “Fifth Master Fan, rest assured. For other guests, we wouldn’t dare guarantee, but for Cao Ye here, all dishes on the menu are fully available—order freely.”
Cao Weida had eaten here more than once, even bringing little devil officers more than once.
To eat whatever they wanted anytime, Dongxing Tower could always buy small amounts of controlled supplies, and replenish after use.
Though quantities were never large, supply was never a worry.
Though he inwardly felt contempt for Cao Weida working for the little devils, one had to admit that with Cao Weida’s patronage, not just Dongxing Tower—any food controls in his jurisdiction were much better than elsewhere. The people still felt grateful to Cao Weida.
Hearing this, Fan Wu Ye was even happier inside, more resolved in his plans.
“Alright then, four dishes and a soup: scallion-braised sea cucumber, nine-turn large intestine, exploded chicken cubes, and a special dish Fukuro chicken slices. For soup, clear swallow’s nest soup.”
Cao Weida nodded with a smile, not acting like a nouveau riche insisting on more: “Good, those it is. Add more if not enough.”
Soon, the dishes came one by one, filling the not-small not-large private room with aroma, making one’s mouth water uncontrollably.
In any era, it’s always the people who suffer poverty, while the rich and noble eat spicy delicacies as usual, indulge in lights and wine as usual—even in occupied areas.
Who knows how many people now go hungry and cold; this one table of dishes, if turned to grain, could save dozens—yet in upper society, it’s just a simple meal.
Cao Weida felt no guilt; he wasn’t a saint, much less a sanctimonious one.
He never lacked kindness when it was called for, but when it was time to enjoy, he wouldn’t play the tragic spring-and-autumn scholar.
Having gone long without such good food, Fan Wu Ye ate freely, stuffing himself full, yet kept his poise perfectly.
Mohe had been swallowing hard since the dishes arrived—these things, let alone eating, she hadn’t even heard of or seen before.
Seeing her hesitate, Cao Weida finally couldn’t watch and proactively clipped her a piece of chicken cube. Mohe blushed, said “thank you,” and shyly began eating with her head down.
Cao Weida ate on the side while watching, enjoying the sight; Mohe differed from her TV series image but also had some similarities.
Watching her, his mind inevitably recalled the female star playing Mu Guiying—truly heroic and valiant. Back when watching the TV series, he’d been deeply attracted by the Mu Guiying in it.
Though current Mohe lacked Mu Guiying’s compelling heroism, the toughness and stubbornness from her bones, combined with her fiery temperament, had a unique flavor.
Feeling Cao Weida’s burning gaze, Mohe grew even shyer, nearly burying her head in the bowl, heart pounding, inner heat rising; she wanted to glare reproachfully but was too shy to turn.
Fan Wu Ye on the side saw it all, a smile gradually appearing in his eyes.
Having lived together so long, how could he not know his own sister’s temperament? Clearly, she fancied Cao Weida.
But it was no wonder—Cao Weida was good-looking, good-tempered, generous and reasonable, plus he’d saved her twice. No feelings would be the strange thing.
He looked around, and an idiom surfaced in his mind: a talented man and a beautiful woman.
Thinking of this, the smile in his eyes deepened.
