Chapter 26

Chapter 26

-

Lunch was held at a private restaurant in the UK.

Jiang Yao arrived early to coordinate with the chef. As Shen Mo had requested a Chinese dish, Jiang Yao reached out to take the apron offered by the head chef.

"Sorry for the intrusion," Jiang Yao said with a smile.

The head chef of this private restaurant commanded a daily salary of £6,000. His employer was rumored to be a mysterious nobleman who called himself a discerning gourmet but rarely appeared in public. In both professional and social circles, people had only heard his name but never seen him.

Head Chef: "It's my honor to work for Mr. Shen."

The sous chef was equally nervous, wringing his hands. "What can I do? What dish are you making? Are there any special ingredients you need, or... uh, any specific freshness standards? Or does Mr. Shen only eat vegetables from a particular garden, or beef and milk from a single cow?"

Jiang Yao and the sous chef exchanged a look—one that only fellow wage slaves could understand.

To ask if someone only drank milk from a single cow... Clearly, the owner of this private restaurant was even more demanding than Shen Mo.

Jiang Yao: "Just give me a plate of day-old rice, thank you."

Sous Chef: "..."

Head Chef: "..."

The rest of the kitchen staff: "..."

In the dining room,

Victor was making small talk with Shen Mo. The most notable feature of private restaurants was their small size and limited seating. This one resembled a small café, seating no more than ten guests. Jiang Yao had booked the entire place a week in advance, dismissing all musicians and ambiance staff. Now, the lighting was bright, and their conversation carried clearly.

Victor rested his chin in one hand while twirling his champagne glass with the other. "Right... Although I had a minor setback in this ranking tournament, as long as I intensify my training, I can definitely..."

[What kind of idiot has the right to compete with me for the same thing?]

Jiang Yao's ears twitched, and he smirked, motioning to a kitchen helper to chop some scallions for him. He began cracking eggs, and half a minute later, the golden liquid sizzled into the heated oil. The aroma of frying eggs soon filled the entire kitchen.

The kitchen had already started serving dishes. The round dining table was soon laden with a roasted leg of lamb, two plates of grilled salmon, curry salad, pasta with sweet and sour sauce, and a classic fried chicken platter with assorted dipping sauces. The main courses also included steak and roasted potatoes.

Victor was clearly familiar with these dishes, using his knife and fork to serve himself portions, while the others at the table hesitated.

Victor: "I’ve heard so much about this restaurant. Why aren’t you eating?"

Auntie Zhou looked appalled: "Fried chicken is considered an acceptable menu item here?"

Mr. Dero: "I'll have the fish soup."

Jerry said, "Where’s Jiang Yao? I want Chinese pork rib and potato stew."

Victor spread his hands: "? What’s wrong with you all? This is just a standard British lunch!"

Master Jesse had bought an £8,000 pacifier at a luxury art exhibition and was proudly showing off his new treasure to Ian.

But Ian was well past pacifier age and had zero interest in it. He was wholly occupied with dipping dry British bread into £10,000-per-200g beluga caviar.

[I'm hungry.] Shen Mo said, glancing at his watch.

Jiang Yao chuckled and emerged bearing a heaping plate of fried rice. "Apologies for the delay. I couldn’t find the ingredients I needed at this high-end private establishment, so it took a bit longer."

The head chef nearby: "..." He’d never seen anyone ask for day-old rice in a Michelin-starred private restaurant before. That rice was meant for salmon rice balls!

Victor curiously examined the golden creation on the plate: "What’s this?"

Jiang Yao doled out servings of fried rice for everyone, smiling. "This is egg-fried rice. The main ingredients are eggs and rice, with a bit of scallion."

Victor: "I thought it was sprinkled with gold leaf."

Shen Mo: "Sit down and eat with us."

Jiang Yao shook his head. "Please enjoy, sir. I’ll remain at your service."

"Mr. Shen is so approachable," Victor remarked, his gaze darting suggestively between Jiang Yao and Shen Mo.

Auntie Zhou immediately scolded Shen Mo in Spanish, which Victor couldn’t understand: "He’s just a servant!"

Shen Mo tightened his grip on the knife and fork. "Yes, as you say."

Dero also spoke in Spanish: "Let's eat and be done. We’ll leave after this."

Victor, oblivious to their conversation, focused on his meal. The small plate of fried rice became more addictive with each mouthful, and he unconsciously sped up. When he finished, he reached for the last remaining portion on the plate.

But a hand snatched up the last morsel before he could. The other eager hands had no choice but to withdraw.

Fu Xiaoen was nearly moved to tears: "Wuwuwu, my Chinese stomach... I can’t believe I’m crying over a plate of fried rice!"

The rest of the table looked wistfully at the other dishes, clearly unsatisfied. None of them paled next to Shen Mo’s family chef.

Jiang Yao smirked privately. The UK truly lived up to its reputation as a culinary wasteland. Even a simple plate of fried rice could conquer these moneyed elite.

After the meal, the others moved to the photo area for commemorative pictures. Jiang Yao stayed behind to handle the check. As he reviewed the receipt, his gaze drifted to a small dish of sauce in the center of the table—thick, crimson, and so bizarre that no one had dared to try it all meal.

"What’s this?" Jiang Yao pointed at the sauce.

The manager smiled. "It’s the... uh, master’s homemade special sauce. He loves it and offers it to guests for free. Some who’ve tried it adore it, while others... uh, say it tastes like blood."

Master?

What kind of person would use such a strange title? Jiang Yao asked curiously, "The gourmet?"

"Yes!"

Jiang Yao glanced around. A gourmet’s restaurant, yet the food tasted no different from any ordinary British eatery? Was the only special thing this sauce?

Narrowing his eyes, Jiang Yao dipped his finger into the sauce. The thick, sticky red liquid oozed down his finger, pooling in the creases.

The system wondered: [What is this? It feels like oxidized blood.]

Jiang Yao’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he tentatively licked the sauce from his finger. "Cough—cough, cough!"

A glistening trail of liquid stretched from his fingertip, the end stained bright red before snapping and vanishing.

System: [Host? What’s wrong? Are you okay?]

The tip of Jiang Yao’s tongue and his lips were now a vivid crimson, the sauce making them appear even more glossy and plump. Instinctively, he wiped his mouth with his hand, then roughly scrubbed away the residue with a napkin.

After washing his hands in the restroom, Jiang Yao had the strange illusion that his looks had become even more striking.

The system burned with curiosity: [What does it taste like? £70,000 for a meal of British comfort food? Really nothing special?]

[Tastes like blood,] Jiang Yao frowned. [Revolting!]

After leaving the restaurant, Aunt Zhou's group was still lingering in the corridor, signing autographs and taking photos. Jiang Yao glanced at the walls—had actual nobility, earls, and Britain's elite really dined here?

What were they here for? To dip dry bread in that blood-flavored sauce?

"What’s wrong?" Shen Mo asked.

Jiang Yao's instincts screamed at him to leave this place quickly. "I’m feeling a bit unwell."

Shen Mo checked the time. "Bid your friend farewell."

Victor looked puzzled.

-

Victor insisted on seeing Jiang Yao off to the airport. After everyone boarded the plane, he still clung to Jiang Yao’s hand, unwilling to let go, whispering sweet nothings on the tarmac.

"Do you think Mr. Shen would be willing to back me?" Victor murmured in Jiang Yao’s ear, occasionally nipping at his earlobe.

Jiang Yao could feel the gaze boring into his back through the airplane window like needles. Shen Mo was definitely calling him a whore in his head again.

"If you keep touching me like this, I can’t guarantee anything," Jiang Yao said with a laugh.

Victor refused to stop, his large hand pawing at Jiang Yao’s back. "I’ve been playing the fool in front of him, making Mr. Shen think I’m no threat. That way..."

"I won’t get sabotaged by him in the finals," the man swallowed hard, his gaze burning like fire. "Rabbit Butler, I dream about railing you, of seeing you beg and sob under me..."

Jiang Yao pushed Victor away and picked up his ringing phone. The man on the other end barked three words: "Get up here."

"Yes, sir."

Hanging up, Jiang Yao gave Victor an apologetic look. "Victor, England's full of proper ladies and gents. You’ve never lacked bed partners. Stop joking with me. I have to go now. See you next time."

"Fuck! I’ve been celibate for the competition!" Victor hurriedly explained. "I swear, I’ll save all my cum for you! On the day I win the finals! I’ll make sure to fill you up right!"

That was way too crude. Jiang Yao pinched Victor’s handsome face.

The latter froze. "What?"

"If you keep talking like that, I’ll hit you. Like this!" Jiang Yao said flatly, pinching Victor’s face again.

Victor’s throat worked with difficulty. He pulled Jiang Yao into a vise-like grip, as if trying to break him in half. "Fucking rabbit, if you keep acting cute like this, I’ll fuck you senseless tonight! There’s something about you—it makes me want to devour you completely!"

Boarding the plane was an ordeal. By the time Jiang Yao got on, he had to take a moment to straighten his clothes.

The plane had a private cabin for Shen Mo. Jiang Yao asked, "Where’s sir?"

Simon stood with his hands behind his back, a hulking figure guarding the door. "Sir isn’t feeling well. He’s already resting."

System: [Really asleep?]

Jiang Yao: [His wounds hurt too much. He doesn’t want to see me.]

Shen Mo lay in bed with a hand pressed to his forehead, painkillers from the doctor beside him. The injuries Jiang Yao had left him with hadn’t healed, and today, his anger had flared up repeatedly, leaving him in too much pain to even think about disciplining Jiang Yao.

Outside the door, Jiang Yao and Simon’s voices could be heard.

"Did sir take his medicine?" That coquettish tone asked with concern. Shen Mo narrowed his eyes, seething inwardly—*Did his lover not satisfy him? Coming to my bed to put on this act?*

That idiot looked at Jiang Yao like he wanted to peel him out of his clothes and take him over the table...

Was that really what he thought? As Jiang Yao spoke with Simon, he also caught Shen Mo’s mental rant. The scene played out vividly in the billionaire’s mind.

*If he really believes that...*

*Then why is the one pinning me face-down on the table in his fantasies, pounding me till I'm seeing red, not Victor—but Shen Mo himself?*

His dear billionaire was too good at lying to himself.

After confirming Shen Mo was fine, Jiang Yao murmured to Simon: "Then I’ll take my leave."

The moment Jiang Yao turned, a rough hand snatched his wrist. Simon yanked him into a hungry kiss, catching the gasp that escaped him.

Inside the room, the man was still fantasizing about him. Outside, the bolder one was already making moves with him right under his employer’s nose.

Simon’s hand slid down Jiang Yao’s back, holding him tight. Soon, that wasn’t enough—his hand traveled lower, pausing at his thigh before deftly undoing Jiang Yao’s shirt stay.

He tugged off the leather strap around Jiang Yao’s thigh.

Jiang Yao broke free, panting. Had all these men taken some kind of crash course in belt removal?

Half the day had passed, and his clothes had already been messed up countless times. Jiang Yao’s expression darkened as he held out his hand to Simon, demanding the return of his strap.

The strap still carried Jiang Yao’s warmth. Simon smirked, bringing it to his nose for a deep inhale before pressing a kiss to it—completely brazen. Then he widened his stance, taunting Jiang Yao to come take it back.

Shen Mo was right behind the door. Jiang Yao narrowed his eyes, the corner of his lips quirked up as he mouthed soundlessly at Simon:

"Consider it your Christmas gift. Take it back and get off with it, Simon." Simon’s grip on the strap tightened violently, veins bulging in his arm. He gritted his teeth, eyes locked on Jiang Yao’s retreating figure as he walked away without a care.