Chapter Thirteen: I Despise Nurhaci

An eventful night drew to a close with Chen Mo's agonized cries, yet the two principal figures, in an unspoken agreement, chose to bury the memory, as though nothing had transpired.

However, by the following afternoon, when Chen Mo staggered into the restaurant for work, he was met with Ye Rong's stormy expression, her mood rapidly shifting from cloudy to tempestuous.

The cause behind this brewing tempest was none other than Jiadi's ferocious assault—an onslaught so spectacular that, borrowing the words of Song Dandan from a Spring Festival Gala, it was "truly, truly, truly magnificent!"

As the old adage goes, money can make the devil turn the millstone—but if it is a beautiful woman offering the money, then the devil himself would be ground to dust in her service.

Thus, with beauty and riches unleashed in tandem, who in this world could dare contend?

Though less than a day had passed since the previous afternoon, across the street, the newly renamed "Lianmo Restaurant" was already open for business after a frantic rush by several hundred workers.

In truth, the restaurant had only opened a little over half a month ago, with its furnishings, tables, and utensils still gleaming new, saving Jiadi considerable time and effort.

Beginning from two o'clock that afternoon, dozens of vans had shuttled back and forth, unloading decorations, custom kitchenware, and precious ingredients.

Yet all these paled in comparison to the true spectacle—the arrival of eight master chefs, luminaries often seen gracing television screens.

No one could fathom by what means Jiadi had managed to recruit such illustrious figures in the span of a single day—mere wealth alone could not have accomplished this feat.

Witnessing this, many onlookers began cursing Chen Mo in their hearts—was he the reincarnation of Pan An or the reborn spirit of Li Bai, to deserve such a grand and ardent pursuit from a Grecian beauty?

Their astonishment had only just begun.

As the clock struck precisely five, twelve breathtakingly beautiful women, poised and graceful, emerged in a single line along the red carpet unfurled at the restaurant's entrance.

Gasps swept through the crowd; the keen-eyed among them quickly recognized the women as finalists from the recent Miss Tourism pageant in South City.

With such an ostentatious display, though some grumbled about the cost of a single meal, their feet had already betrayed them, carrying them irresistibly toward the dazzling establishment.

Behind the glass window, Ye Rong could not help but sigh helplessly, murmuring, "Fine, open your restaurant if you must, but did you have to rename it 'Lianmo'? Do you take me for a fool, unable to see the meaning behind it?"

Chen Mo, impassive, continued polishing tables with meticulous care, as though entirely detached from the unfolding drama.

Only when Ye Rong's frustration reached its breaking point did he sigh and gesture toward the door.

"Rong-jie, mind your image. Looking like that will scare away customers. Without them, there will be no easy marks left to fleece."

Startled, Ye Rong followed his gaze and saw a steady stream of patrons approaching.

Barely a third of a second later, the lady who had been mourning the heavens wore a flawless, radiant smile, gracefully stepping forward to greet the guests.

Chen Mo, stroking his chin, sighed softly, "Women truly have many faces."

Setting aside his musings, dozens of patrons gradually filed into the restaurant, many of whom had lingered since the afternoon to watch the spectacle.

Despite the overwhelming allure of the rival establishment, loyalty to local businesses compelled most guests to choose the "Jixiang Restaurant."

Leading the charge was Boss Lin, who thumped his chest and proclaimed, "Sister Ye, I've crossed half the city to support you! Don't you worry about that foreign girl. I won't even order today—just bring out whatever you have. And don't you dare save me money!"

Such loyalty! This was true brotherhood!

Ye Rong was moved to tears, silently vowing that if she had the authority, she would award him the title of Outstanding Citizen.

As the bustling crowd settled, window seats offering a view of the rival restaurant became hotly contested "feng shui" spots.

Ye Rong surveyed the scene and thought, even if they couldn't outshine Jiadi's spectacle tonight, at least the losses would be manageable with so many regulars showing support.

Yet just as a waiter approached with menus, a sudden clang of a gong from across the street shattered the air.

A burly man strode to the entrance and stood firm.

Almost simultaneously, the twelve ceremonial hostesses unfurled red scrolls bearing the names of signature dishes—though the distance made the lettering hard to discern.

Before the guests could squint to decipher them, the burly man cleared his throat and bellowed,

"Lianmo Restaurant grand opening! Welcoming guests from all corners! Special promotional dishes for three consecutive days—First Dish: Japanese Premium Fuhong Abalone, only 200 yuan each!"

"Pfft!" Boss Lin, mid-sip, transformed into a human fountain.

Nearby guests exchanged bewildered glances, rubbing their ears as if doubting their own hearing.

Surely this was madness! Premium Fuhong abalone, a delicacy reserved for five-star hotels, was being sold on an ordinary street for a fraction of its usual price?

At a five-star hotel, it would cost a fortune—never merely 200 yuan!

Unable to resist, some guests had already half-risen from their seats.

Yet before they could act, the burly man's booming voice continued:

"Second Dish: Thai Blood Bird's Nest, 60 yuan per bowl! Third Dish: Fresh Poached Geoduck, 65 yuan each! Fourth Dish…"

His declarations rolled forth without pause, shaking the restaurant's very windows.

But it was not the windows that trembled most—it was the guests' hearts.

Heavens above! These were delicacies many had only ever heard of, never dreamed of tasting.

Here lay a golden opportunity—if squandered, they would regret it for a lifetime!

Within moments, many who had just taken seats in "Jixiang Restaurant" rose awkwardly, circled past Ye Rong, and sprinted toward "Lianmo" like shooting stars.

Ye Rong, petrified like a statue, made no attempt to stop them.

Only after the hall had emptied did she recover, casting a suspicious glance at Chen Mo and muttering,

"Tell me the truth—did you get that woman pregnant? Don't tell me it was just phone calls. What kind of idiot girl would pour fortunes into a fling over the phone?"

"She's not an idiot—just stubborn," Chen Mo said, tossing aside the rag and gazing wistfully at a shadowy figure on the second floor.

In truth, although he had expected Jiadi to make a scene, the scale of this spectacle had far exceeded his imagination.

"No, boss," whispered Nuonuo from his pocket through consciousness transfer. "Autistic people are like that. Once they fixate on something, they'll charge ahead without hesitation—even off a cliff—and use any means necessary."

"Shut up! I haven't even started settling accounts with you!" Chen Mo glared venomously at the creature, sighing again.

To have such a stunning woman devoted to him—what man could claim not to be moved?

Yet the bitter irony remained—it was not truly he who had spent five years nurturing this strange affection, but Nuonuo, imitating his voice and mannerisms.

Though Chen Mo had occasionally made the calls himself, the crux of the relationship belonged to this meddlesome pocket demon.

Imagining the awkwardness if he truly accepted Jiadi and later had to explain their courtship, he could only sigh once more, feeling as though he had sighed more today than in his entire life.

Meanwhile, Ye Rong had fallen into grave contemplation, torn between flattening Chen Mo with a frying pan or storming across the street with cleavers in hand.

Just in time, Boss Lin—still somewhat loyal—strode back to her side, thumping his chest resoundingly.

"Sister Ye, don't be upset over those faithless fools. They're not worth it! I'll stay right here and eat whatever you bring. Even if they serve a Manchu Han Imperial Feast across the street, I won't—"

Before he could finish, the burly man roared once more,

"Fourth Dish: Braised Tianjiu Shark Fin, 80 yuan per portion—limited to the first ten guests!"

Boss Lin froze, disbelief etched across his face.

Tianjiu shark fin—an elusive treasure that even the wealthiest might never taste!

He hadn't misheard—the man had truly announced it, and added a limit for good measure.

Three seconds later, Boss Lin clutched his stomach with a dramatic grimace.

"Uh, I think my stomach's acting up. I'll come back tomorrow!" he stammered, bolting out the door.

The waitresses exchanged glances—if that counted as loyalty, then surely their continued employment here was loyalty beyond measure.

This time, Ye Rong didn't even have the strength to complain.

Gazing at the empty hall, she let out a long, helpless sigh and murmured,

"Truly, I have never hated Nurhaci so much in my life…"