Chapter 418: A Rich Man's Watch Is Nothing Compared to My Mom's Pancake
Seven in the morning.
The live stream started right on time.
Hundreds of thousands of netizens flooded in, eager to see how Zhao Kuo Tai would enjoy a luxurious morning in the presidential suite.
Yet, the moment the screen lit up, the bullet comments were nothing but question marks.
[Did these two go coal mining or something?]
On the oversized sofa in the presidential suite, Zhao Kuo Tai’s hair was a mess, her under-eye bags practically hanging down to her chin, and she was clutching a bottle of pepper spray in her hand.
Next to her, Old Zhao, worth hundreds of millions, held up a slipper in a defensive posture.
“That gecko from last night…” Old Zhao’s voice was hoarse. “Did you catch it?”
“Shut up!” Zhao Kuo Tai glanced neurotically at the ceiling. “It’s watching me… That gecko is definitely laughing at us from some corner!”
The two had sat up all night, hadn’t had a drop of water, and were utterly drained.
The camera cut away.
Room Two.
Lin Ouyang and his mom were doing their morning skincare routine.
“Good morning, babies~” Lin’s mom showed her face plastered with cucumber slices to the camera. “This is a must-do wake-up step. You can’t slack off even while traveling.”
Lin Ouyang was doing yoga beside her, his movements picture-perfect, but the “growl” from his stomach was mercilessly picked up by the sound recording microphone.
[LOL, that’s not waking up, that’s being woken up by hunger!]
[Stop pretending! I can hear your intestines moving from here!]
The tone shifted dramatically.
Basement level one, the maid’s room.
There was no sea view here, just a small window facing the kitchen’s exhaust vent.
But at this moment, it was filled with the warmth of mundane fires of life.
The stainless steel basin, which the security officer had mistaken for a “suspicious explosive” yesterday, was fulfilling its true mission—kneading dough.
Chu Hong, still wearing yesterday’s apron, skillfully rolled out the rested dough.
She sprinkled salt, brushed on oil, and grabbed a handful of green onions she’d snuck from the kitchen yesterday.
Finally, she brought out the secret weapon.
Those few air-dried sausages wrapped in tin foil were chopped into fine pieces and evenly rolled into the dough.
The pan heated up, and with a sizzle.
The pancake hit the pan.
The aroma of scallions mixed with the fragrance of meat exploded into the air.
Jiang Ci, sporting bird’s nest hair and wearing those baggy shorts, crouched by the stove, swallowing hard.
“Mom, make it crispy. I like the crunchy bits.”
“I know, you little nag.”
Chu Hong flipped the pancake over. The crust was golden and crispy, sizzling with oil.
“Go scoop out that congee. The shrimp head oil is all rendered, don’t waste it.”
Jiang Ci scampered over and lifted the lid of the small pot next to it.
A rich, sweet aroma of seafood congee filled the air, taking over the olfactory senses of the entire villa district that morning.
Ten minutes later.
The first-floor lobby.
Director Wu Tong stood refreshed in front of the dining table.
The table was laid with an elegant Western breakfast: cold-cut ham, whole wheat bread, and a tiny glass of fresh juice that looked far from thirst-quenching.
Of course, that was for the staff.
In front of the guests, there was nothing.
“Good morning, everyone,” Wu Tong said with a grin, pulling out a price list.
“Hotel breakfast is 288 per person. Considering your starting funds are only one hundred… unfortunately.”
Zhao Kuo Tai, leaning on Old Zhao’s arm, was so hungry her eyes were turning green.
“Director Wu, can’t you make an exception?” she tried to maintain her noble lady dignity. “Just give me back my card, and I’ll treat the whole crew!”
“Rules are rules,” Wu Tong said sternly. “No money means you go hungry.”
Lin Ouyang stared at the plate of cold-cut ham, his Adam’s Apple bobbing. “Director, can we run a tab? I’ll play the piano in the hotel lobby to pay off the debt!”
“No.”
The atmosphere was tense.
Just then.
An utterly irresistible aroma drifted over.
Zhao Kuo Tai’s nostrils flared.
Old Zhao’s eyes went wide.
Lin Ouyang stopped his yoga.
“Dap, dap, dap.”
The sound of slippers slapping against the marble floor came closer.
Jiang Ci walked up from the stairwell, carrying the stainless steel basin.
Inside the basin, scallion pancakes were piled high like a small mountain, each layer stuffed with bright red, tempting bits of air-dried sausage, the skin glistening with golden oil.
Chu Hong followed behind, carrying the steaming soup pot.
“Oh, everyone’s up?” Chu Hong scanned the group’s pale faces and naturally picked the biggest empty table.
“Thud.”
The stainless steel basin hit the glass tabletop.
Jiang Ci didn’t stand on ceremony. He grabbed a pancake with his bare hands.
“Crack.”
A crisp crunching sound.
That was the crust shattering between his teeth.
Jiang Ci took a big bite, his cheeks puffed out, and mumbled indistinctly, “Mom, these sausages are amazing. So juicy.”
“Of course, they’re from the front leg,” Chu Hong said, ladling Jiang Ci a bowl of seafood congee. The congee was thick, with a layer of red shrimp oil floating on top. “Slow down, it’s hot.”
[Holy crap!!!]
[That smells way too good! My sandwich suddenly doesn’t seem so appetizing!]
[I’m drooling shamelessly in front of my screen! This is real people’s food!]
[Look at Zhao Kuo Tai’s face! She looks like she wants to devour Jiang Ci!]
The scene was dead silent.
Only the sound of Jiang Ci slurping his congee broke the quiet.
Old Zhao’s Adam’s Apple was bobbing wildly—a purely physiological reflex he couldn’t control.
He was genuinely starving.
Yesterday, his wife had only let him eat half a plate of salad, and then he’d been on edge all night.
Now, smelling this aroma, it felt like something was clawing at his stomach.
Lin Ouyang felt the same. He usually avoided carbs to stay fit, but that scallion smell was hooking into his nostrils.
“Um…” Lin Ouyang tried to strike up a conversation. “Teacher Jiang, this pancake looks… pretty high in calories, right?”
He meant to say, “I wouldn’t stoop to eat that,” but the tone came out sour as vinegar.
Jiang Ci didn’t even look up. He took another bite, grease glistening at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, it’s high. If it wasn’t, could it even be called food? Eating grass is what sheep do.”
Lin Ouyang: ”…”
Old Zhao couldn’t hold out any longer.
He glanced at his wife, who was fixing her makeup to hide her embarrassment, grit his teeth, and quietly shuffled over to Chu Hong’s table.
“Sister,” Old Zhao whispered, a pleading edge in his voice. “Is this pancake… for sale?”
Chu Hong was peeling shrimp. She looked up at him. “There’s not enough extra, and my son’s a big eater. This might not be enough.”
That was a refusal.
Old Zhao panicked.
He looked around furtively, then, like a thief, quickly unclasped the Patek Philippe from his wrist.
This watch was a global limited edition, worth seven figures.
“I’m not freeloading.” Old Zhao pushed the watch onto the table, next to the stainless steel basin. “I’ll leave this with you as collateral. Just trade me for one pancake… even half a one.”
The camera zoomed in for a close-up.
Next to the greasy, stained basin lay a watch that could buy the bathroom of this entire villa.
The scene was absurd and raw.
The bullet comments went wild:
[Is this the legendary “When a man is happy, he’ll pay anything”?]
[A Patek Philippe for a scallion pancake! This is the wildest exchange rate of the year!]
[Old Zhao is really starving! Look at that pathetic expression!]
Chu Hong put down the shrimp she was peeling.
She picked up the watch, gave it a look, and frowned.
“This thing won’t work.” Chu Hong pushed the watch back.
Old Zhao’s face went pale. “Sister, it’s real. I have the certificate…”
“I know it’s real.” Chu Hong grabbed a napkin to wipe her hands. “What I mean is, this thing can’t be eaten. It’ll crack your teeth.”
She picked up her chopsticks, grabbed the thickest pancake with the most meat from the basin, and shoved it right into Old Zhao’s hands.
“Eat up,” Chu Hong said flatly. “It’s just a pancake. You’re acting like we’re in some underground deal. You’re not young anymore; don’t starve yourself.”
Old Zhao held the steaming pancake, stunned.
The heat traveled through his palm and spread through his entire body.
His eyes suddenly turned red.
“Th… thank you, sister!”
Old Zhao didn’t care about his image anymore. He took a huge bite.
It was the most satisfying meal he’d had in years.
“Delicious! So good!” Old Zhao wolfed it down, all traces of a CEO’s dignity gone.
Over there, Zhao Kuo Tai couldn’t keep up the act any longer.
She snapped her compact shut, clicked over in her high heels, and grabbed Old Zhao’s arm.
“Old Zhao! Have you no shame?!” she shrieked. “Have you never eaten before?”
She cast a disgusted look at the stainless steel basin. “It’s all oil. So dirty.”
Jiang Ci finished his last sip of congee and set the bowl down.
His eyes turned cold.
He was about to snap back when Chu Hong spoke first.
“It’s certainly not as clean as your grass.” Chu Hong leisurely packed up the dishes. “After all, we’re not lucky enough to stay in a presidential suite. We can only make do with this simple fare.”
She stood up, her aura somehow stronger than Zhao Kuo Tai’s, despite the branded clothes.
“But, you know, sis, looking at your complexion…” Chu Hong pointed at the sickly pallor that Zhao Kuo Tai’s heavy foundation couldn’t hide. “That’s internal heat, a stagnation of liver Qi. You’re hungry sick.”
“I’m perfectly fine!” Zhao Kuo Tai protested stubbornly. “This is intermittent fasting! The most popular wellness trend! It not only detoxifies but also…”
“Grrrroowl—”
A loud noise.
Even louder than the growl from Lin Ouyang’s stomach that morning.
Zhao Kuo Tai’s stomach, betrayed by the scent of scallion pancakes, let out the most disrespectful roar.
The whole room went silent.
Even Wu Tong covered his mouth in awkwardness.
The thick powder on Zhao Kuo Tai’s face seemed ready to crack.
Jiang Ci couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing.
He leaned back lazily in his chair, spinning the Sailor Moon water gun in his hand, his tone absolutely insufferable.
“Mom, see? I told you.”
“This intermittent fasting doesn’t work. It didn’t flush out the toxins; it just flushed out her cravings.”
Zhao Kuo Tai stood there, her body trembling slightly—a mix of shame and sheer hunger leaving her weak.
Just then, Wu Tong, holding his megaphone, broke the cringe-worthy silence.
“Ahem! Alright, breakfast time is over!”
Director Wu Tong suddenly announced that the next activity would be a “beach fashion shoot.”
The requirement was to wear the swimwear that “best represents the family’s style.”
Zhao Kuo Tai flashed a cold smile of absolute confidence.