The Taste of Love Starts in the Kitchen (GL) - Chapter 8

Three young women suddenly appeared at the restaurant’s entrance. Zhao Youxuan spotted them immediately, and a flash of excitement lit up his eyes. Like someone stepping onto a slippery floor, he was ready to slide over without hesitation.

But just as he took a few steps, Qian Qian shouted sharply, stopping him in his tracks like a driver who’d slammed on the brakes mid-acceleration. Caught off guard, he froze, turned back to look at Qian Qian, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, unsure what to say.

Song Baili instantly caught on to what was happening. Calm and composed, she walked toward the door to welcome the guests, greeting them with a warm smile and effortless charm.

The customers’ eyes drifted between the menu and Song Baili. Lately, she had often encountered guests more interested in her than the food itself. She knew how to make the most of such moments, seizing the opportunity to recommend a few dishes—almost always with spot-on accuracy.

“Today’s chef’s special is the oxtail soup. Would you like to give it a try?”

The oxtail had been simmered overnight on a low flame, resulting in tender, fall-off-the-bone meat that practically melted in the mouth.

The tomatoes used were slightly sweet and subtly tangy, their flavor mingling beautifully with the savory richness of the beef, creating a taste that stood out from the usual fare.

“You could also try our coconut milk and garlic sea bass fillet,” she added.

The fish was pan-seared to a golden crisp, then cooked in the same pan with a touch of butter, aromatic garlic slices, rosemary, a sprinkle of black pepper, sea salt, and just a bit of brown sugar for balance.

Half a cup of coconut milk was then added, infusing the pan with a rich, creamy fragrance. A dash of curry powder was sprinkled in at the end to enhance the flavor and color, and the resulting sauce was irresistibly aromatic.

A blue round plate was carefully selected, the sauce gently poured in, and the fillet placed neatly at the center. A handful of fresh sesame leaves were arranged on top, turning the dish into a piece of edible art.

Bass was at its peak in early autumn—fatty, tender, and naturally sweet. Its soft yet springy texture made it a joy to eat, and even an amateur cook would struggle to ruin such a quality ingredient.

“Our apple pie is one of the most popular desserts among women. Add just two more yuan, and it comes with a drink.”

Song Baili had sampled nearly every dessert on the menu. In a lineup of otherwise average dishes, the desserts stood out as truly memorable.

The three women had come today with only one goal: to see Song Baili in person. And now, having met her face-to-face, their impression far exceeded expectations. They were genuinely struck by her charm, and finally understood what made Qian Qian act so starry-eyed.

In that moment, the three shared a silent connection. If Song Baili had been the spring rain that led Qian Qian into her rainbow-colored world, then they, too, suddenly found themselves wanting to step into that same rain.

They hadn’t come for the food. As the dishes arrived, they quietly calculated how much this meal would cost them, painfully aware of every hard-earned yuan. But the moment they took their first bite, their eyes lit up. Nods came naturally, unbidden.

As the plates were gradually emptied, one of them set down her fork, gently patted her now slightly rounded belly, and turned to Qian Qian, who had just walked over.

“The food’s gotten way better. Did you hire a new chef?”

“Nope. Same faces in the kitchen.”

“Wow, that’s a huge difference. Did management finally start treating the staff better?”

Qian Qian’s lips curled slightly, though her smile looked a bit stiff. Her expression was hard to read.

Lately, there’d been a growing divide in the feedback on the restaurant’s food. Most of the glowing reviews came from customers who had interacted with Song Baili, while others—served by different staff—left unimpressed.

“Well, if the food’s improved… what about Song Baili? What do you think of her?”

The three women looked at each other, an unspoken understanding passing between them. After a short silence, they began to speak one by one.

“She’s so pretty—those big, bright eyes.”

“Right? And her skin is flawless. Totally jealous.”

“Her figure is insane. Long legs, tall—like a model.”

Their rapid-fire compliments made Qian Qian’s heart bloom. She tried to keep a straight face, nodding along coolly, but the joy in her expression gave her away.

Just as she was basking in their praise, one of the women leaned in and softly asked:

“So… is she into women?”

The question hit Qian Qian like a block of ice, crashing straight into her chest. Her smile froze on her face, suspended mid-expression.

The warmth on her cheeks seemed to fade a little. She blinked, lips parting slightly. A flicker of confusion passed through her eyes as she murmured:

“I… don’t know…”

At that moment, Song Baili slowly walked toward them. Qian Qian’s heart tightened, a wave of heat rising in her chest. As if suddenly remembering something urgent, she blurted, “I’ve got to go—let’s talk later,” and turned to leave.

The hem of her uniform swayed lightly as she moved, her flustered steps betraying her retreat. She darted between the tables and vanished into a corner of the restaurant.

Behind the bar, Qian Qian busied herself wiping glasses, hands moving quickly. But every now and then, she’d glance up, eyes following a particular figure.

Each time she looked, she seemed to be searching for a sign—anything—that might offer a clue. But every time, she came up empty. It was like a fog lay between them, soft but impenetrable.

All afternoon, she stayed in that restless state—guessing, wondering, turning things over in her mind, yet never getting any closer to the truth. The uncertainty churned inside her like waves with no shore, and no end in sight.

—

As soon as Song Baili stepped into the house, she sensed something different from usual. Laughter and conversation drifted from the dining room, mixed with the smell of food and a cheerful, lively atmosphere.

Song Zuming came out to greet her and led her into the dining room, introducing her to the guests one by one.

The moment Song Qinyao saw Song Baili walk in, a storm of emotions churned inside her, making her chest feel tight, like she could barely breathe.

She stared at Baili with pleading eyes, feeling an unexplainable wave of hurt. She silently begged for a glance—anything to connect their emotions, hoping a single look could convey everything she couldn’t say aloud.

But Baili never looked her way. She greeted the guests politely, then went straight upstairs.

Lan Zhengping, sitting beside Qinyao, noticed the sudden change in her expression. Her face had gone pale, and her eyes looked unfocused, as if she’d just been hit by something heavy. She seemed completely out of it.

“Qinyao, are you okay?”

Snapping back to reality, Qinyao saw Zhengping looking at her with concern.

His gentle tone and worried gaze didn’t comfort her—instead, it felt like a heavy weight pressing down on her already strained emotions. Her heart sank further, and it felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall into a pit of despair.

“You really don’t look well. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Qinyao shook her head.

“I’m fine.”

Zhengping wanted to offer more comfort, but Qinyao was like a beautiful rose with thorns—gorgeous and captivating, but impossible to touch without getting hurt.

He had seen many beautiful women before, but few had the ethereal, fox-like charm Qinyao possessed. Even when she sat quietly with no expression, her elegance and allure left him utterly spellbound.

“Zuming used to talk about his niece all the time, but I never imagined she’d be this stunning. Does she have a boyfriend?” Zhu Baolian asked, her eyes gleaming like she’d just discovered a rare gem. If this treasure didn’t have an owner, she already had a list of suitable candidates in mind.

“Baili’s only been back a little over a month. She hasn’t mentioned having a boyfriend,” Song Zuming replied casually, showing no particular concern.

“She’s probably close to thirty, right? Have you thought about helping her find someone?”

Baolian looked excited, as if she’d spotted a dazzling jewel she couldn’t let go to waste.

“My brother was pretty open-minded. He let his daughter live how she wanted—marry if she wanted, stay single if she didn’t. Now that he’s gone, I wouldn’t dream of making those decisions for her.”

“Well, that’s all fine, but—”

“She already has someone she likes. Whoever she chooses is up to her. You can’t force love—it’s like picking a melon that’s not ripe; it won’t taste sweet.”

Qinyao’s words landed like a cold wave, casting a sudden shadow over the previously warm and joyful mood. Laughter died down, and the room fell into awkward silence as everyone processed her statement.

Someone who had barely spoken all evening had suddenly dropped a blunt truth, like a cold gust blowing through the room. Faces froze, smiles faded, and no one knew what to say.

“Sorry, everyone. I’m not feeling too well. I think I’ll head upstairs and rest for a bit.”

Without waiting for a reply, Qinyao stood up and calmly left the dining room.

Her departure froze the room in a strange, uncomfortable stillness, like a wrong note in a melody that threw everything off. No one knew how to respond.

To Song Zuming, Qinyao was like a precious rib—his softest, most vulnerable spot. He loved her fiercely and spoiled her deeply. If she threw a tantrum, he indulged her. If she was upset, he gave in. He could never bring himself to scold her.

Now, he could only offer a few awkward laughs to try and smooth things over, but it was clear his smile was strained and couldn’t fix the awkward mood.

Lan Zhengping watched Qinyao’s tall, graceful figure disappear from view, his eyes darkening with disappointment. Zhu Baolian pushed up her glasses and forced a small, uneasy smile.

Zhong Yalei’s face flushed red with frustration. Her elegant demeanor was slipping, and she looked more like an angry little bird than a graceful swan. She apologized on her daughter’s behalf and urged Zuming to bring Qinyao back downstairs.

In her family, Song Zuming was given a crown and golden armor—they could raise him up high, or crush him in an instant. Outside, he was respected and admired, but at home, he was very much second in command.

So when his wife gave an order, he didn’t dare ignore it. He hurried upstairs, knocking on Qinyao’s door repeatedly, but she didn’t answer. Instead, the noise drew Song Baili out of her room to see what was going on.

Zuming, seeing her, couldn’t help but vent a little. Though his words seemed critical of Qinyao, they were laced with affection and indulgence.

“She didn’t look well this morning either. Maybe she really is feeling sick. I’ll go check on her later. You go entertain the guests, Uncle.”

After Zuming went downstairs, Baili returned to her room and quickly picked up her phone to send a message to Qinyao.

The screen showed “typing…” and she waited patiently. Soon, a reply came in. Baili read it and fell silent.

Just as she was about to leave the room and reached for the doorknob, a tall figure appeared at the door—a woman with arched brows and a tense expression. Baili paused, surprised.

“Sis… can I come in?”