Is This The Right Way To Repay A Favor? Chapter 21

Stealing the Recipe

Cai Zhiyang also ate a piece, and hearing Shen Zhiyu’s evaluation, he couldn’t help but be curious.

“I think President Jiang’s cooking is delicious! Brother Yu, where did you eat tea-fried crispy bones that were better than this? Next time, take us to try it!”

“Sure, if there’s a chance later.”

Although he claimed the dish wasn’t as good as the one he ate yesterday, Shen Zhiyu ended up eating several more pieces afterward.

Jiang Zhou mentally noted Shen Zhiyu’s critique, determined to go home and steal the recipe.

After lunch, the young people scrambled to wash the dishes.

Director Weng went back for his nap. Shen Zhiyu headed up to the second floor.

Jiang Zhou, concerned about Shen Zhiyu’s illness, followed him upstairs.

Shen Zhiyu stood by the window, gazing into the distance.

The second floor was the original main watchtower of the walled village, with a low wall whose upper half was latticed.

The sun was strong today, but this was a winter village, and the wind was still cold, stinging one’s face.

Shen Zhiyu was still wearing the trench coat from the morning, which seemed a bit thin.

Jiang Zhou worried that his cold hadn’t fully recovered and he might catch another chill. He walked over and advised, “The wind is strong here. Too much exposure and you might catch a cold.”

“Mhm.” Shen Zhiyu continued to look into the distance. “It’s so beautiful.”

Jiang Zhou followed his gaze outside.

Beyond the watchtower was a sprawling tea plantation. Tea trees covered the mountainside, bathed in sunlight, the green waves surging like a sea of jade.

Jiang Zhou had lived in Yongnan Village for over ten years, so this scenery was commonplace to him.

Yet at this moment, a different kind of stirring arose in his heart.

It seemed that having a different person beside him to view the scenery made the experience entirely distinct.

However, that stirring was quickly interrupted by Shen Zhiyu’s cough.

Jiang Zhou looked anxious. “I’ll go get you a jacket.”

Jiang Zhou hurriedly started to head downstairs.

“No need.” Shen Zhiyu grabbed his arm. “I’m going back now.”

Shen Zhiyu released his hand after speaking and stepped toward the stairs.

Jiang Zhou paused for two seconds, then subconsciously followed him.

The others had just finished tidying up.

Before everyone dispersed, Dong Qianqian said, “My Tarot stall is undergoing its final setup and will be open tonight. Everyone is welcome to come and visit.”

Everyone agreed to go support her tonight.

Not long after Jiang Zhou returned to Youran Residence, he was the first to request a closed-door period.

He exited through the side door next to Youran Residence and went home to ask his father how to make tea-fried crispy bones.

Jiang Hua, seeing him run back alone, was initially grumbling.

But upon hearing that Shen Zhiyu liked the dish, he immediately and meticulously explained the secrets of the recipe to Jiang Zhou.

Jiang Zhou listened carefully. All the steps and seasoning ratios Jiang Hua described were exactly the same as when he made it—no difference at all.

Could it be the wok?

Father and son thought seriously for a moment, then spoke in unison.

“Take the wok with you.”

“I’ll take the wok with me.”

Ye Mo had played all day in the village, having so much fun he forgot to go home. He insisted on staying a few more days and even called Shen Zhiyu via video, crying.

The child put the phone on speaker, and Shen Zhiyu’s gentle, patient coaxing could be heard clearly.

But the little nephew was too excited to listen. No matter what his uncle said, he stubbornly refused to go home.

Jiang Zhou called Jiang Yue over and whispered, “Go help him talk some sense into him.”

Jiang Yue blinked. “Brother, actually… I want him to stay and play with me too.”

Jiang Zhou was speechless for a moment.

Just then, Ye Mo suddenly turned the phone camera toward Jiang Zhou.

“Uncle Jiang, you tell my uncle!”

Jiang Zhou couldn’t avoid it. Caught off guard, he met Shen Zhiyu’s gaze through the video, and his voice involuntarily softened:

“Uh….”

“How about… you let him play for two more days?”

Shen Zhiyu on the other end of the line seemed helpless against his little nephew too, and softly agreed, “Alright.”

The little nephew immediately cheered, raising the phone high. “Long live Uncle!”

Jiang Zhou heard a low, doting, yet helpless chuckle from the other side.

“I can’t do anything with you.”

Afterward, Jiang Zhou had Wei Yan dispatch an assistant to join the production team as a staff member, ready to be on standby.

The assistant sent was Xue Pengfei, a graduate student from Jiang University who had joined the company through campus recruitment last year. He had good learning and execution abilities, and most importantly, he was tight-lipped and didn’t talk much.

Xue Pengfei arrived in Yongnan Village at noon and waited outside. Jiang Zhou met with him, briefly explained the job duties, and then told him to report to the program director.

After briefing Xue Pengfei, Jiang Zhou opened his phone and found an unread WeChat message from half an hour ago.

It was from Shen Zhiyu.

The timestamp showed it was sent shortly after he hung up the video call with his little nephew.

The message contained only four words: “Went back to steal the recipe?”

Jiang Zhou immediately felt the guilt of being seen through.

He replied with an “Mhm” emoji.

A reply quickly came back.

This time, it was a voice message.

Jiang Zhou tapped play.

“Study hard.”

“Don’t disappoint my expectations.”

His voice carried a hint of a smile when he spoke.

The moment the voice message ended, a rush of heat surged into Jiang Zhou’s earlobes, rapidly spreading to his cheeks.

His fingers trembled slightly, and he replied with three words: “I’ll try.”

There was no further reply from the other side.

Jiang Zhou held his phone, listening to the voice message over and over again, like an addict.

—-

When Jiang Zhou returned to Youran Residence carrying the wok, the director, who had been dozing, instantly woke up.

“What is President Jiang holding?”

A staff member next to him zoomed in on the monitor screen. “It looks like a wok.”

A wok?

The director was stunned. Why would President Jiang bring a wok back from outside? Was the wok provided by the production team unsuitable?

He quickly ordered someone to check the brand of the woks they had prepared.

The staff member quietly reported, “They are provided by the sponsor….”

The director was silent for a moment, then asked, “Should we remind President Jiang?”

The person next to him quickly shook his head. “I wouldn’t dare.”

Besides the wok, Jiang Zhou also brought back some local specialties prepared by Jiang Hua.

Shen Zhiyu was not in the living room; his door was closed. Jiang Zhou didn’t disturb him, gently placed the items on the coffee table, and then turned to go to the restaurant.

Guests in the group chat were continuously updating the progress of their businesses.

Cai Zhiyang posted a photo of Director Weng writing calligraphy and asked, “We’re all gathered here at Director Weng’s place. President Jiang, Brother Yu, have you named your businesses? Send them over so Director Weng can write them all at once.”

Everyone had agreed earlier that Director Weng would write the names for all the businesses. Jiang Zhou noticed several finished names already on the table, each unique and romantic: Pillowside Galaxy, Heart’s Secret Whispers, Scented Kaleidoscope, Field of Passion….

He wasn’t good at naming things. The name “Languang” had been mocked by Yuan Chong for years.

Jiang Zhou thought for a moment and decided not to come up with a new name, using an existing one instead. “Languang Bistro.”

Cai Zhiyang immediately teased, “President Jiang is slipping in private goods! Even on a show, he doesn’t forget to advertise his own company.”

Jiang Zhou did have a private motive.

However, this motive had existed since the birth of “Languang.”

Languang was born for “Yu” (Islet)—the entire ocean of his career was named after him, and all the light and glory ultimately belonged to that character “Yu.”

Yuan Chong had cursed him as hopeless when he heard it back then.

Cai Zhiyang then summoned Shen Zhiyu in the group chat. “Brother Yu, what about yours?”

Shen Zhiyu replied: “Tongzhou Study Post.”

Zhou! (Boat/Vessel)

Just that single character connection made Jiang Zhou’s blood surge and boil, scorching every nerve.

Cai Zhiyang voiced the question for him: “Zhou? Is that President Jiang’s Zhou?”

“Yes.”

“President Jiang is a top student, so I’m borrowing some academic luck.”

Not only was it the same character, but it was explicitly linked to him.

Jiang Zhou reread the message several times in disbelief.

Cai Zhiyang laughed. “Brother Yu is right! I’ll ask Director Weng to write an extra one to take back and hang in my nephew’s room, to absorb some of that academic aura.”

More messages kept popping up.

But Jiang Zhou could no longer clearly see what they were discussing. His gaze remained fixed on Shen Zhiyu’s reply, which had already been scrolled up.

Tongzhou Study Post. (Study Post of the Same Vessel)

The Zhou was Jiang Zhou’s Zhou.

He lowered his head slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, as uncontrollable emotions crashed around inside him.

Amidst the surprise, he even felt a little afraid.

Shen Zhiyu had been back in the country for less than ten days, and their interactions were already intricately woven like a net.

He felt as if he was being invisibly pushed, inevitably drawing closer and closer to Shen Zhiyu.

But this was wrong.

Jiang Zhou had always known his place—he was only fit to watch from afar.

But now their trajectories were deviating more and more. He had even gone with the flow, agreeing to his father’s arrangement for him and Shen Zhiyu to film the show together.

Jiang Zhou could have refused. But a certain irrepressible selfish desire in his heart had quietly sprouted with each interaction.

If this continued, the damage would be irreversible.

Jiang Zhou didn’t dare to make things too obvious on the show, so he arranged everything for tonight’s dinner.

In the evening, as people arrived at the restaurant, they immediately noticed the gauze wrapped around Jiang Zhou’s left hand.

“President Jiang, what happened to your hand?” Cai Zhiyang noticed the abnormality the moment he walked in.

Shen Zhiyu, who entered behind him, also saw it. This suddenly reminded him of Jiang Zhou’s messy palm at Huanjia Club before, and his expression immediately darkened.

What was this guy messing with now?

“I accidentally cut it while chopping vegetables,” Jiang Zhou explained softly.

“Oh my god! You got hurt just to cook for us… How are we worthy!” Cai Zhiyang started up again.

Hua Qian next to him asked with concern, “President Jiang, are you alright? How about I help you out starting tomorrow? I often help my mom prepare food, and I’m fine with chopping.”

“No need,” Jiang Zhou politely declined her offer. “I find it easier to cook alone; having another person would distract me.”

If Hua Qian really came to help, there would inevitably be physical contact and casual conversation, and he didn’t want any complications.

“President Jiang.” Shen Zhiyu suddenly spoke.

His voice cut through the crowd, carrying a rare severity.

“Be careful next time. If you keep getting injured because of our meals, what does that make us?”

When his voice fell, the restaurant instantly quieted, and the atmosphere subtly tightened.

“Yes, President Jiang!” Cai Zhiyang seemed oblivious to the tension in the air, trying to lighten the mood. “If you get hurt again, we’ll all be worried.”

Jiang Zhou pursed his lips, not daring to look up at Shen Zhiyu.

“Okay, I’ll be careful next time.”