Chapter 93: A Frog Cursing

Chapter 93: A Frog's Curse

With the season's first light snowfall, Zhao Yu switched the Kaiyue to snow tires, but still nearly crashed on the icy road.

He parked the car in the lot, flexed his wrist, and felt a slight sting. He didn't pay it much mind.

Cao Xu had gone on a trip with his family. Apparently, his wedding anniversary and his kid's birthday landed on the same day, so they were making a big deal out of it.

Zhao Yu told him not to worry and to go enjoy time with his family, and he took over all the kitchen duties himself.

Today was the third day Cao Xu was away. The first two days, everyone had been chatting and laughing. They were a bit lax without the head chef around, but they still did their work properly. Zhao Yu let them be.

The second he walked into the kitchen today, he saw a few people gossiping. When they saw Zhao Yu, they said to him, "Did you know? The big star Angel is dating a girl! The internet is blowing up!"

The internet seemed to explode over something almost every day. Zhao Yu scratched his ear: "All this gossiping, and no work getting done?"

The group chuckled and went back to work, while Zhao Yu went to check the day's ingredients.

When the lunch rush hit, Zhao Yu stepped into Cao Xu's shoes and took over as head chef. Several dishes that required real skill had to be made by him personally. By now, his technique was flawless—no one else could match him.

But as he moved, he felt the sting in his left wrist getting sharper. In a lull between orders, he iced it for a while, then quietly pressed on the swollen area.

The chefs working on the main dishes brought their finished plates to him for his approval as usual. He had to give the nod before anything went out.

One chef brought him a bowl of soup to taste. Zhao Yu took a sip and frowned slightly. "Too much pepper."

"It was just a tiny bit extra. You can barely taste the difference," the chef said with a smile. "The guests can't taste things as well as you can, Chef Zhao. They probably won't even notice, right?"

"Just a bit?" Zhao Yu said. "Taste it yourself. The pepper's about to blow the top of your head off."

"Then I'll fix it right away."

"No use. Make a new batch."

"But we don't have time."

"There's time." Zhao Yu washed his hands. "Forget it, I'll do it. You go handle something else."

"Alright, thanks, Chef Zhao!"

Zhao Yu rotated his wrist, fired up another burner, and juggled the dish he was working on along with the soup, barely managing to finish everything just in time.

He'd barely finished that when someone flipped a wok and knocked over a spice container. Zhao Yu had a kitchen worker clean it up right away and had someone else grab him a new one.

The little hiccup didn't ruin anything. The dishes came out perfectly. Zhao Yu had eyes and ears everywhere—no matter what chaos erupted in the kitchen, he caught it and fixed it before it became a problem.

During his break, he went to get Pang Ze's report on customer feedback and discussed how to adjust the new dishes' flavors.

It was a busy day from morning to night, with no time to even sit down. It wasn't until near the end of his shift that he suddenly felt exhausted. While listening to Pang Ze talk, he tried to prop his chin up with his hand and immediately winced.

"Chef Zhao, is your hand okay?" Pang Ze asked.

"It's fine." Zhao Yu yawned. "The kitchen's wrapped up, so I'll head out first."

"Take care. I'll lock up."

"Appreciate it."

Walking out of Jinyan, Zhao Yu finally let his wrist move freely and winced at the discomfort. He'd endured it all day, and the spot that had been stinging was now swollen. Any slight pressure hurt.

He definitely couldn't ride the bike for the next few days, but he still had to get the bike home. He tried pushing the Kaiyue, but no luck. As he was wondering whether he could call a tow truck, two headlights suddenly shone on him from behind.

He turned around, squinting to see Gu Hansheng's tall silhouette backlit by the headlights.

"Why are you working so late?" Gu Hansheng walked up and asked.

"Lots of stuff today," Zhao Yu said. "Why are you here?"

"To pick you up from work."

Zhao Yu glanced at the time—it was really late. He decided to deal with the Kaiyue tomorrow and got into Gu Hansheng's car. Warm air hit his face as he took off his coat and rubbed his hands together.

With just one look, Gu Hansheng noticed his swollen wrist. "What happened to your hand?" He gently took Zhao Yu's hand and heard him suck in a sharp breath, which made him frown.

"I twisted it riding the bike. The road was too slippery," Zhao Yu said. "I already iced it. Should be fine."

A chef's hands were always getting hurt. Back when he first joined Yatai, his fingers had turned red and swollen from peeling chestnuts, hurting like hell, but he'd still worked the next day. He was used to it.

But back then, Gu Hansheng hadn't cared about such things. Now, he cared a lot—even a tiny scratch on Zhao Yu's finger never escaped his notice.

He'd gotten hurt in the morning, endured the pain all day until it swelled up like this, and he could still say it was fine. Gu Hansheng was a bit annoyed—annoyed at himself for letting Zhao Yu ride the bike out that morning just because he'd said he got snow tires, without saying a single word to stop him.

He hesitated for a moment, and it wasn't until after he'd bought medicine at the pharmacy that he said, "Don't ride the bike in the snow. I'll drive you."

Zhao Yu asked, "Aren't you really busy lately?"

"Not busy."

Zhao Yu shot him a surprised glance. Just yesterday he'd overheard Gu Hansheng on the phone rattling off a bunch of urgent things to do, and now he was claiming he wasn't busy.

Zhao Yu was going back to his own place, and Gu Hansheng didn't object. Though Zhao Yu had been staying at Gu Hansheng's place for nearly half a month, he hadn't actually moved in. With Jinyan keeping him busy lately, his own place was closer and more convenient for getting to work. But the moment he came back, Gu Hansheng followed.

Zhao Yu sometimes wondered how long Gu Hansheng could stand squeezing into a tiny apartment under a thousand square feet. So far, he seemed pretty comfortable. Because the space was small, he could see what the other was doing at a glance—wherever Zhao Yu went, he felt eyes on him.

The moment they got home, Gu Hansheng insisted on putting the medicine on first. The medicated oil had to be rubbed deep into the tendons until the skin felt hot.

Gu Hansheng was remarkably patient. Zhao Yu sat cross-legged on the sofa, watching his sharp brow bone and deep-set eyes as he looked down, and his lips, pressed together, looking especially thin.

His face was built for looking devoted—even a hint of a smile made it feel like glaciers melting, like he was looking at you warmly.

Zhao Yu used to be unable to read his face, but now it seemed crystal clear. This man had set aside all his scheming in front of him, always wearing his emotions on his sleeve, as if he wanted to be seen through, to be understood.

While Zhao Yu was lost in thought, Gu Hansheng suddenly said, "Don't use that hand for a while. Let someone else handle the work."

Zhao Yu said, "The head chef isn't here, so some things only I can do. The kitchen's been a bit chaotic lately; I can't just walk away from it."

"Chaotic?" Gu Hansheng looked up.

"Today..." Zhao Yu thought about it, then decided it was all small stuff, no need to bring it up.

Back at Yatai, with all the infighting in the kitchen and Che Shijie's dirty tricks, Zhao Yu had been bothered by it for a while and thought about asking Gu Hansheng for advice. But why hadn't he back then? He couldn't quite remember.

Maybe because Gu Hansheng was too busy, or maybe because he thought Gu Hansheng wouldn't be interested in such little things. In any case, they didn't tell each other everything—many issues were only touched on lightly.

"Nothing." Zhao Yu changed the subject out of habit. "Do you want to shower first?"

He wanted to drop the topic, but Gu Hansheng stared at him without blinking. Gu Hansheng wanted to know about his life—every single detail, no matter how small.

Zhao Yu sometimes suddenly made him feel distant, as if a crack had opened in his heart and then abruptly closed, habitually pulling back to put space between them, keeping his thoughts to himself rather than confiding in him.

Gu Hansheng was well aware that this habit was his own doing, and a faint sting pricked at his chest. As Zhao Yu retreated, he pressed, saying, "Talk to me. Even if it's about work, you can tell me."

Zhao Yu was a bit surprised. "Doesn't it get annoying listening to people complain about work?"

"Anything involving you, I won't find annoying."

Seeing how sincere Gu Hansheng looked, Zhao Yu hesitated before finally speaking. "The kitchen was total chaos today. Someone knocked over the seasoning, someone accidentally over-peppered the soup, and someone else said they couldn't find the torch halfway through cooking. When the master was around, the kitchen ran like clockwork. I can't figure out why all this crap happens when he's not around."

Gu Hansheng asked, "What about yesterday? Was it the same?"

"Yesterday and the day before were fine. Today was just a disaster."

"Did you get everything sorted out?"

"They were all small stuff. I pitched in and handled it."

Gu Hansheng paused. "You helped?"

Zhao Yu said, "It was no big deal. When the kitchen gets busy, everyone's running around. I swapped a dish or found a torch—better than watching them flail around."

Gu Hansheng asked again, "If everyone had a problem, could you handle all of them?"

"But if I don't help, won't it all fall apart?"

"And what happens if it falls apart?"

"It slows down service and ruins the customers' experience."

"And what's the solution?"

"Comping meals, giving free dishes, handing out gifts."

"Would it hurt the restaurant's reputation?"

Zhao Yu blinked. "No, not really."

Gu Hansheng kept rubbing his swollen wrist, his fingers moving up to the callus at the base of his thumb. He'd already figured it out, but he still patiently led the conversation.

"If someone knocked over the seasoning, what would Cao Xu do?"

Zhao Yu thought for a moment. "He'd chew them out. If someone over-peppered the soup, the master wouldn't just yell—he'd make them do the grunt work as punishment. They wouldn't dare joke around in front of him. It's on me. I haven't been managing things well."

Gu Hansheng didn't say anything. Even though Zhao Yu blamed himself, he wanted to know who was slacking off and making Zhao Yu's life hell, keeping him busy nonstop with a swollen hand.

In the end, he kept quiet. He'd learned that some things, even if he wanted to step in, he absolutely shouldn't.

The next morning, even while driving Zhao Yu to Yinwan Hui, Gu Hansheng tried to talk him into taking the day off. But Zhao Yu shot down every suggestion and insisted on going in.

The kitchen was still a free-for-all in the morning. Zhao Yu changed in silence, watching them huddle and chat. When Fatty sidled over with a grin, Zhao Yu gave him a deadpan look and a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You'd better watch your mouth and your step today."

Fatty got it right away, zipped his lips, and got to work. The guy was slick, but nobody could read a room like him. While scrubbing the cookware, he lit three incense sticks for the clueless coworkers who'd piss off Zhao Yu today.

At noon, when a plate of crispy pork neck landed in front of Zhao Yu, he took one look and spotted the problem right away.

"Did you skip the second roast? The color's off," Zhao Yu said.

"But it tastes the same, Chef Zhao. We're running out of time," the guy said with a grin.

"Redo it."

"What? But the time..."

Before he could finish, Zhao Yu slammed the plate on the table with a sharp clatter—loud enough for everyone to hear, but not over the top. "Skipping even one step isn't acceptable. If I say redo it, you redo it. What are you standing around for? Aren't you running out of time?"

He paused, then added, "Check it yourself before you bring it to me. Don't think you can slack off just because Chef Cao's not here. If you don't want to cook, go scrub pots!"

Zhao Yu's tone suddenly turned hard. The cook froze for a second, then grabbed the plate. "Alright, I'll redo it right away."

Everyone exchanged looks. Usually, Zhao Yu was easygoing with everyone, laughing and shooting the breeze. But they'd all forgotten that Zhao Yu was half their boss—with Cao Xu gone, he was the head chef.

After his blowup, not a single problem came up for the rest of the afternoon.

That evening, leaning against the doorframe, he texted Gu Hansheng: "Made an example of one to scare the rest."

Gu Hansheng: "Work?"

Zhao Yu: "Very effective. I was super fierce."

Gu Hansheng: "How fierce?"

Zhao Yu: [Frog scolding.jpg]

In his office, Gu Hansheng rested his chin on his hand, staring at the funny green frog meme, the corners of his mouth twitching up.

This was the first time Zhao Yu had texted him during work hours. Their chat history had always been dry and boring—even this little sticker was a first.