The Taste of Love Starts in the Kitchen (GL) - Chapter 75

Song Baili strode toward the table, raised her hand slightly, and picked up a spoon, gently stirring the plate a few times.

She glared at the woman who had accused them and then lifted her head to address everyone in the room:

“Our avocado-banana milkshake is made with the utmost care. After blending, it’s strained through a fine mesh to ensure no impurities remain. We even add bits of fresh fruit, and the filtering process is meticulously checked. There’s no chance of foreign objects being left behind.”

“Stop talking nonsense! The food has a problem, and you’re still trying to dodge responsibility? This attitude is atrocious! I won’t let this slide. I’ll report you and make sure everyone knows how bad you are!”

The woman’s hostility only grew stronger, as if determined to make a scene.

Her round face puffed up like a purple-faced hippopotamus, her flared nostrils rising like small hills, and her bl00d-red lips adding a touch of menace to her expression. It was clear she was not someone easy to deal with.

“Our restaurant has always maintained a stellar reputation, and hygiene is our top priority. If you wish to report us or call the authorities, we’ll fully cooperate and take responsibility without hesitation.”

Song Baili’s demeanor remained calm and professional, her delicate features untainted by any hint of displeasure. She exuded composure and elegance, every movement precise and poised.

Her calmness made the troublesome woman feel increasingly like a vulgar shrew, the contrast intensifying her frustration and anger.

“Who do you think you are? You dare talk to me? Call someone in charge; I’m not wasting my time on a lowly worker like you!”

“You—!”

Song Qinyao, standing nearby, stepped forward, ready to argue. But Song Baili stopped her quickly, signaling with her eyes to remain calm.

At the same time, the woman’s unreasonable and arrogant attitude ignited the fury of other customers, like a match dropped onto dry tinder.

“You’ve gone too far!”

“If you don’t want to eat, then leave! Don’t sit here and make trouble!”

“Yeah, stop pretending to be so high and mighty!”

Suddenly, a chorus of angry voices rose. Nearby customers spoke out, their remarks growing louder. The woman and her group, sitting conspicuously in the middle of the restaurant, became an easy target for everyone’s ire.

Under the mounting pressure, their previously haughty demeanor crumbled. Realizing the situation had turned against them, they could no longer carry on with their plan.

Li Shao, their apparent leader, coldly scanned the room and sneered before standing up.

He walked toward the door with an air of indifference, the others trailing behind him, muttering grievances as they left.

The restaurant returned to its usual calm, but inside, Song Baili felt an uneasy stir. She glanced out the window and noticed a sudden whirlwind scattering leaves and dust, a scene that filled her with an ominous feeling.

As night fell, a video began spreading like wildfire across the internet.

The footage was shocking: fried chicken crawling with squirming worms, drinks floating with dead cockroaches. The video even revealed the name of the restaurant, accompanied by explosive and revolting captions. It instantly triggered public outrage and condemnation online.

Business at the restaurant plummeted. Once bustling with customers, it now stood eerily empty. The vibrant dining scenes of the past were replaced with silence, empty tables, and a desolate atmosphere.

To make matters worse, the restaurant faced harassment from strangers posing as customers. They tried to sabotage operations, secretly recording footage to fabricate fake news and spread it online for attention and clicks, deepening the restaurant’s crisis.

On top of that, health inspectors began conducting frequent surprise checks, combing through every corner of the establishment. This added extra work and mental stress for Song Baili and her team.

Standing in the empty restaurant, Song Baili looked at the barren scene, a bitter feeling welling up in her heart.

In the past, the place had been lively and full of energy, with so many customers she barely had time to breathe. But now, everything was different. The restaurant felt abandoned by its once-thriving business.

Later, at a bar, Song Baili sat at the counter, waiting anxiously.

She stirred her non-alcoholic juice absentmindedly while glancing around the bar. Suddenly, her attention was drawn to a girl entering through the door.

The girl walked in, looking curious and unfamiliar. Before she could step further, the bar’s security stopped her.

The guards’ attitudes were cold and firm, and their conversation stood out sharply in the lively, noisy environment of the bar.

Song Baili quietly observed the scene, her eyes fixed on the girl.

The girl had sleek, straight black hair cascading over her shoulders, her strands gleaming under the lights.

She was slim and not very tall, but her figure was well-proportioned. Her pale skin glowed like fine white jade, untouched by the sun.

At first glance, she looked like an innocent, teenage girl with a hint of naivety.

However, the guards, after carefully checking her ID, slightly eased their attitude and let her through.

The girl stepped into the bar, scanning the surroundings nervously before locking eyes on her target.

Gathering her courage, she walked steadily to the seat beside Song Baili and sat down.

The vibrant energy of the bar enveloped them—clusters of people chatting and laughing, the clinking of glasses mixing with the scent of alcohol, and an atmosphere charged with excitement and hormones.

Yet, the space around the counter seemed to exist in a world of its own—quieter and slower-paced.

Song Baili exuded calmness, sipping her juice with measured movements, while the girl beside her seemed nervous and uneasy.

As Song Baili’s phone buzzed with a message, she checked the screen:

“Sister, clients arrived at the company, so we need to postpone our meeting about the restaurant. Let’s reschedule.”

She stared at the message for a moment before pocketing her phone. Standing up, she walked toward the restroom.

When she returned, her sharp eyes caught sight of a group of men surrounding the girl.

The men’s overly enthusiastic demeanor contrasted sharply with the girl’s evident discomfort. She tried to move away, but they blocked her path, continuing their advances.

The girl pulled out her phone and feigned checking it, lying to the men, “My friend is on her way.”

“You’re sitting here all alone; come hang out with us while you wait. We’ll introduce you to some friends.”

“No thanks, I don’t want to meet strangers.”

“Don’t be so cold. We just want to get to know you, that’s all.”

Their persistence grew increasingly aggressive, causing the girl to glance around, her fingers hovering over her phone, ready to call for help.

Just then, a voice cut through the tension:

“Hey, sweetheart! Sorry I’m late. Traffic was awful.”

The men turned to see Song Baili approaching with a radiant smile.

Her confident stride and piercing gaze froze them in their tracks. One of them even let out a low whistle in amazement.

She walked straight up to the girl, gently placed a hand on her shoulder, and said warmly, “It’s too noisy here. Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

The girl’s nervousness melted into relief as she nodded, flashing a grateful smile.

Linking arms, they walked toward the door.

But just before they could leave, one of the men trailed behind them, refusing to let go.

“Hey, wait a second…”