Shen Xi Fan froze, the piece of bread she had been nibbling on slipping from her mouth. Xu Xiang Ya continued ranting indignantly, “Maybe I should just buy him some dog food. This morning, the server said he frowned at his breakfast, took a few bites, and then didn’t touch it again.”
Shen Xi Fan knew all too well how picky Dai Heng—now Yan Heng—was with food. She asked, “What did you prepare this morning?”
“Fried eggs, whole wheat bread, milk, ham, and jam.”
She sighed. “The fried egg needs to be cooked until the yolk is slightly runny, about 80% done. Replace the whole wheat bread with milk toast. He only eats white cherry rose jam. The milk needs to be warm, preferably from Meng Niu or Yili brands. Swap the ham for mashed potatoes.”
Xu Xiang Ya gasped. “What a ridiculously picky eater!” Then, with curiosity, she added, “Xi Fan, how do you know so much about his preferences? There’s no information on file!”
Shen Xi Fan suppressed a complicated mix of emotions, brushing off the question. “I just found out yesterday. I’ll give you more tips when I’m on shift.”
Xu Xiang Ya sighed dramatically. “You’d better get here soon. This finicky lord is waiting for you to plan his meals!”
Back at the hotel, the supervisor of Jing Pavilion reported to Shen Xi Fan, “Manager Shen, the matter from last night has been resolved. However, Mr. Ling went to a meeting at ‘Cyber’ this morning.”
She habitually massaged her temples. “Good. Make sure the VIP card and other items are prepared for this evening, and come with me to explain everything to him. Does General Manager Cheng know about this?”
“It’s already been reported. GM Cheng approved the resolution and instructed all staff to learn from this incident.”
Later, Xu Xiang Ya came to her, sighing theatrically. “Work is so exhausting these days. We’re doomed to a life of servitude. If we lived in ancient times, we’d be nothing more than slaves—obediently going east when the masters demand it, never daring to go west…”
Shen Xi Fan, cradling a cup of tea, cut her off. “Enough whining. Listen carefully. He only eats lean meat—pork and beef, sometimes chicken. He likes congee, especially authentic Cantonese congee. He rarely eats spicy food but loves Chongqing spicy hot pot. He enjoys mushrooms and medicinal soups. He likes seafood but not fish. Western pastries, especially cheesecake, are a favorite. For today, base the dishes on Su and Zhe Jiang cuisine, with a soup and stew. Dessert can be sago pudding, and for supper, prepare shredded chicken congee and some light appetizers.”
Xu Xiang Ya was awestruck. “Xi Fan, you’re amazing! You should be the F&B manager!” Clutching her notebook, she dashed off, chanting, “Quick, quick, quick! I’m on it!”
Shen Xi Fan chuckled quietly. Amazing? Hardly. After three years with Yan Heng, I know his preferences well. He’s a foodie, but extremely finicky. She remembered all the times she had prepared meals for him with painstaking care. How could she not know what he liked or disliked?
Her mouth still carried the bitter-spicy aftertaste of the herbal medicine, likely from the Huo Xiang. Despite drinking copious amounts of water, the flavor lingered—spicy, bitter, and oddly persistent.
* * *
At lunch, Yan Heng dined at the hotel and found the dishes perfectly suited to his tastes. He complimented Xu Xiang Ya, who modestly explained, “Mr. Yan, it’s all thanks to Manager Shen from the housekeeping department. You should thank her!”
Pausing with his chopsticks, Yan Heng froze in thought. Of course. Who else besides my mother would know my preferences so well?
His exacting standards with food had always been a challenge for others. Yet Shen Xi Fan had always been patient, cooking for him without complaint, even when he rejected her dishes. She would simply laugh it off, saying her cooking skills weren’t great.
Why is it only after leaving her for so long that I realize how wonderful she was?
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