Chapter 20: Ask and You Shall Receive

Because the meal had been so greasy, Bai Renzong made himself a cup of tea to cut through the heaviness when he got home. Sipping his tea, he managed the comments on his videos, muting a group of nitpickers. He was just about to head down for a shower and call it an early night when Han Jiayi returned.

"You've worked hard," Bai Renzong said, glancing at her curiously. She seemed to be in low spirits, perhaps because lunch had been a disaster, so he added, "I'll treat you to a meal another day."

Han Jiayi, full of pent-up frustration, nearly exploded right then. But she realized she couldn’t vent it on Bai Renzong, so after barking a sharp "No," she slumped and muttered the remaining words, "...already did."

"What’s the matter? Out of energy?" Bai Renzong asked, puzzled.

She shot him a glare, muttering under her breath as she kicked off her shoes and slipped on house slippers.

She’d known Bai Renzong for a few days now. She knew he was decent, steadfast in his aspiration to be a content creator, and as today had shown, he was indeed competent. Still—she just couldn’t bring herself to like him!

"I'm going to shower!" Han Jiayi huffed.

"Alright, you go first," Bai Renzong replied, choosing to display his gentlemanly manners.

While Han Jiayi was in the shower, Bai Renzong lounged in the living room, watching television. The sound of running water from the bathroom, truth be told, made his mind wander. After all, he’d been single for so long, and now he was living with a girl of ethereal beauty—who wouldn’t have a stray thought or two?

"Better focus on what I'll do after making some money," Bai Renzong told himself, giving his cheeks a light slap.

It was then that Han Jiayi emerged, drying her hair, and shot him another eye roll as soon as she saw him.

"What a shame—such a beautiful girl, but her eyes must be ill," Bai Renzong sighed in mock regret. "Why else would her eyeballs roll back every time she sees me?"

"You're the one who's ill!" Han Jiayi retorted irritably. "Are you looking for a fight?"

"Did you eat anything later?" Bai Renzong pressed.

"Why do you keep asking if I’ve eaten?" Han Jiayi frowned slightly.

"Because you’re a chef," Bai Renzong explained. "During peak hours, you’re busy in the kitchen and probably don’t have time to eat. You barely ate at lunch, too. How do you manage a whole day like that?"

Han Jiayi’s expression softened. She was a little surprised—this man was unexpectedly attentive.

"I had a sandwich at the restaurant," she murmured. "And I taste things when I’m cooking."

Only then did Bai Renzong nod. "Alright, I'm going to shower."

The moment he entered the bathroom, a faint scent of osmanthus mingled with the steam, making his head swim. Sharing a roof with Han Jiayi for three days now, their schedules had mostly kept them from crossing paths: she left when he got up, and when she returned, he was usually editing or recording videos in his room. Their routines hadn’t overlapped much.

But now, staring at the laundry basket with her undergarments inside, Bai Renzong was struck by the reality of living with a woman.

Her underwear was plain white—simple, understated. That surprised him a little.

Just then, Han Jiayi suddenly appeared behind him, snatched up the laundry basket, and stomped away, muttering a venomous "Pervert!"

"Maybe you should be more careful yourself!" Bai Renzong called back irritably, then shut the bathroom door.

Han Jiayi had simply grown too used to being at ease at home. Back when she attended high school here, she lived with her cousin’s family—all Han relatives—so there was nothing to worry about. But now, she was living with a strange man.

"I need to be more careful from now on..." she whispered to herself, cheeks flushed, as she buried her undergarments beneath other clothes.

The next morning, when Bai Renzong woke, Han Jiayi had already left, but a sandwich was sitting on the table.

"Did she leave this for me?" he wondered, glancing around. No note, no indication as to whether it was meant for him.

He shrugged and picked up the sandwich.

It was a simple assembly: lettuce, bacon, ham, and a touch of homemade sauce—a humble yet delicious combination.

Soon enough, though, Bai Renzong noticed something unusual. He savored another bite, raising his brows—what was this sensation?

It was as if every flavor danced distinctly on his tongue, and he could identify the source of each one. For instance, Han Jiayi’s homemade sauce—he could tell it was based on mayonnaise, with a hint of black pepper and some finely chopped sweet-and-sour fruit—pineapple, by the taste.

The first bite felt a bit like Thousand Island dressing, but the sourness and sweetness both surpassed that standard, and the subtle salt and spice perfectly married the bacon, ham, egg, and lettuce.

"Is this the power of the Tongue of the Gods?" Bai Renzong muttered between mouthfuls, still not quite certain.

In any case, now that he possessed this divine palate, his plans began to unfurl in his mind. But, truthfully, the biggest surprise of the day was the sandwich itself—he’d never expected Han Jiayi would leave breakfast for him.

"She’s actually pretty nice," Bai Renzong thought. "Just a bit strong-willed..."

After finishing his sandwich, Bai Renzong returned to his room to check the buzz around last night’s review of "Future World." But what first caught his eye was a piece of local news.

"Sushi restaurant 'Ge'an Sushi,' newly opened under Mirage Group, sealed for consumer fraud investigation..."

Bai Renzong paused, then laughed aloud. "Isn’t that the place from yesterday? Sealed off already?"

He clicked into the article. Goodness, it turned out the place didn’t have any A5 beef at all! The entire storeroom was filled with A3 grade.

That’s why the investigation wrapped up so quickly—the case was simple. If there’d been even a scrap of real A5 beef, it would have complicated things.

The most ironic part—on the video, the boss still blustered, "Go ahead, try to nail me! If you really find evidence, ruin me! Otherwise, I’ll sue you for everything you’ve got!"

Just as Han Jiayi had said, all those so-called "A5 Wagyu" cuts merely mimicked the marbling. Most people had never tasted real A5 Wagyu, and even those who had might be fooled by the appearance alone.

This owner took advantage of that, swaggering and deceiving his customers.

Clever, really. Legally, if orange juice only contains 5% juice, it’s still called orange juice. So, if one of four grading criteria is A5, calling it A5 beef might seem logical.

But logic isn’t the same as legality—there’s a reason true A5 Wagyu fetches such a high price.

As a result, the restaurant was hit with a heavy fine and ordered to rectify the situation.

Yet, launching a new shop and running into such a scandal on the first day—its reputation was ruined before it ever gained popularity. Attracting future customers would be nearly impossible.

"Well, I suppose that’s what it means to ask for trouble and actually receive it," Bai Renzong mused.