Chapter Fourteen: The Buffet Dinner

Keven looked at Qiu Fengyu with utmost seriousness, his gaze unwavering as he spoke with grave solemnity, "I simply want to know an answer. If I had to make a judgment about this matter, I would say to you—well done, Qiu."

Qiu Fengyu laughed, "I don’t know who did it, and I don’t care who did it. I just want to run my noodle shop well, sell twenty bowls of noodles every day. If you want to eat, you’re very welcome, that’s all!"

Keven considered it and realized that pressing further would yield nothing, so he nodded, "I’m leaving now. If you hear any news about Silsha or David, remember to let me know." With that, he turned and walked away.

He had wanted to go to a bar, but decided he needed to calm himself first. So he sat in the backyard behind the shop—a small lawn, not large, but big enough for a chair and a small table.

Qiu Fengyu brewed himself a cup of tea; he believed tea was the thing that could bring him peace. He stared at the tea leaves swirling in the glass, trying to let himself drift into a tranquil space.

But the calm was broken by the shrill ring of his phone. Qiu Fengyu answered—it was Britt calling.

"Tomorrow. I’ve set it for tomorrow. Will you come? If so, I’ll notify the others," Britt spoke loudly.

"Alright, tomorrow at dinner time. But I’ll come right after lunch to start preparing for dinner. You know… cooking for so many people takes a lot of time."

"Settled then!" Britt hung up, clearly pleased.

Interrupted, Qiu Fengyu finished his tea in one gulp, then rose, brought the chair inside, intending to go upstairs to sleep, or perhaps watch news and soap operas on the old television.

Bang bang bang—a furious knocking at the door.

Qiu Fengyu opened the door and quickly stepped aside, letting two people in. Seeing them, he hurried to shut the rolling door, then gestured for them to sit in a booth.

"You two have guts," Qiu Fengyu sat down opposite them.

"We’re not wanted by the police, we haven’t done anything wrong. The local Russian gang has no boss now, so they won’t trouble us for the time being. We just came back to pack up and leave," Silsha answered, glancing at Qiu Fengyu. "Thank you. I know you’ve done a lot for us…"

"I’ve done nothing. You didn’t see me. In that godforsaken place, we agreed—you go your way, and it has nothing to do with me," Qiu Fengyu replied coldly.

"Anyway, thank you, Mr. Qiu. I apologize for the trouble I caused you earlier," said David Birkin beside her, his face still bearing wounds, speaking with genuine sincerity. "I know this has nothing to do with you. We’ll leave soon—we’ve avoided police surveillance…"

"Then hurry up. Don’t linger here," Qiu Fengyu urged impatiently.

"Yes, we’ll leave right away!" Silsha stood, took a key from her pocket, and gently placed it on the table beside Qiu Fengyu. "This is the key to my apartment. Stay as long as you like. We may never return…"

Qiu Fengyu pocketed the key and opened the rolling door, making his intention clear. Silsha and David Birkin helped each other out, glanced at Qiu Fengyu one last time, and slowly left. Soon their figures vanished into the night.

Those two fools, daring to come back—hopefully their luck holds and they don’t get spotted by the police. Qiu Fengyu looked at the place where they disappeared, touched the key in his pocket, went up to the loft, and tossed it into the cabinet by the bed. He had no intention of staying at that woman’s place.

The next day, the noodles sold out quickly as usual. Then he began preparations for dinner, phoning Britt to have him drive over and pick everything up.

Britt was positively elated. To be honest, he had a blind trust in Qiu Fengyu’s cooking, founded on the fact that Qiu Fengyu had saved his life and possessed superb culinary skills.

They moved piles of supplies—all procured by Qiu Fengyu from Paso City. Along with some condiments, the two got in the car and headed to Britt’s villa, which looked neat and orderly, with a clean lawn and dining tables set out on the grass. Tonight’s dinner would take place at those tables.

Qiu Fengyu planned for all the dishes to be laid out buffet-style. Everything would be served in large portions: home-style dishes, meats, fish, and soup. The staple would be plain egg-fried rice. If you wanted Americans to eat rice, egg-fried rice was the way.

Preparing all this took time. Qiu Fengyu didn’t let Britt help; he could handle it alone. Even Britt’s wife, Elizabeth, was turned away when she tried to assist.

But one person stubbornly came into the kitchen to observe.

It was Elisa Knight. She, too, was an invited guest today. Maybe it was because people had tried to match her with Qiu Fengyu; this time she behaved as if she was especially close to him, filming with a DV camera as she watched him cook.

"I think your cooking is pure artistry," Elisa said as she filmed, teasing Qiu Fengyu as he worked. "Can you tell me why you’re shaping this into a ball… it’s so cute, like… I can’t describe it, but it looks wonderful. Are you a professional chef? Before this…"

"No, it’s just my hobby… If you want a delicious meal, you have two choices: either shut your mouth and focus on your job, or leave. Your call!"

"Alright, yesterday I thought you were quite humorous… Well, I’ll keep quiet!" Seeing Qiu Fengyu glare at her, Elisa stopped talking.

But her hands didn’t pause. She kept filming, watching Qiu Fengyu, thinking that when he worked seriously, he really had a captivating charm.

After a busy afternoon, he finally produced dinner for over twenty people, filling the long table with two rows of dishes—thirty in total. Meat and vegetable, vibrant colors, enticing aromas, everything looked delicious.

At the shout of "Let’s eat," people rushed over with plates, quickly clearing all thirty dishes, even the egg-fried rice was gone. Judging by their faces, everyone enjoyed the meal immensely.

Indeed, these Americans, used to junk food, had never tasted such wonderful Chinese cuisine. Authentic Chinese dishes, combined with Qiu Fengyu’s unique touch, truly made them want to swallow their tongues.

"You were born to be a master chef," Britt smiled at Qiu Fengyu after dinner. "Tonight was a great success—they’ll forgive you."

He was right. After eating and drinking their fill, the guests came up one by one to hug Qiu Fengyu, shake his hand, praising the food and his skill, hoping for more gatherings like this. Then, reluctantly, they said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.

Elisa lingered, hugging Qiu Fengyu and laughing, "They want to match us up—do you think we’re a good fit?"

"Not at all," Qiu Fengyu replied immediately.

Elisa laughed, then turned her face and kissed Qiu Fengyu lightly on the cheek, smiling, "You’re really not giving me any face, planning to let me leave embarrassed? Don’t be so quick to decide. True, now isn’t the best time for us, but I do admire you—especially your focus when you cook, it’s very attractive. Take it slow…" She winked at him and walked away.

Today Elisa wore just an ordinary outfit, nothing fancy.

As Elisa headed back, a young man beside her smiled, "You’re interested in him? That outsider?"

"Kevin, that’s my business, I do as I please," Elisa replied, shrugging. "What’s wrong with having another friend? I may not even date him."

"I think you like him," Kevin said with a smile. "I like his cooking, but… he’s still Chinese. Have you considered the differences? Cultural, habitual… And didn’t you have a boyfriend in college? Planning to dump him?"

"You sound like a woman!" Elisa snorted.

"Have you slept together?"

"Oh God, how can you say that to your sister? Oh my God, damn it! Kevin, promise me you’ll never ask that again," Elisa said, annoyed and a bit agitated.

"Looks like I hit the mark," Kevin grinned. "I don’t have that kind of problem, so my girlfriend and I are totally fine. And I think this is a chance for you, to enjoy the best things between a man and a woman with that Chinese chef!"

Elisa glared at Kevin, "I never realized you were such a gossip."

"Let me ask again…"

"Shut up! That’s exactly why I broke up with him, okay? Don’t talk about this anymore—it’s disgusting!"