Stepping into the "Tianchao Seafood Restaurant," William was immediately recognized at the front desk. Within five seconds, the restaurant's manager, a young Chinese woman in her early twenties, appeared before him.
"Good evening, Mr. Devonshire. I'm Maggie Li, the manager of this restaurant. It's an honor to have you dine with us. Please follow me," she said warmly.
"Thank you. We can speak Chinese," William replied with a smile, effortlessly switching to Chinese. To his surprise, his Chinese was flawless, but Maggie Li's wasn't quite up to par. It was obvious she was a second- or third-generation immigrant.
"Apologies, Mr. Devonshire. I can speak it, but not very well. I'm sorry," Maggie said, blushing slightly as she responded in Chinese.
Though her accent was a bit awkward, William had no trouble understanding her. He didn't mock or take offense.
For an immigrant descendant, being able to speak and understand the language was already commendable—far better than those who couldn't speak or even comprehend it at all.
"No problem. We can speak slowly; think of it as practice," William said with a smile. "By the way, do you serve authentic Chinese dishes? I'm not fond of overly sweet food."
"Understood." Maggie couldn't help but chuckle. Americanized Chinese food was often overly sweet. "Don't worry, Mr. Devonshire. If you'd like, we can even prepare dishes from all eight major Chinese cuisines.
"That said, I recommend Huizhou cuisine. Our head chef's family specializes in it. While we can cook other styles, they may not be as authentic as our Huizhou dishes."
"Huizhou cuisine? Do you have stinky mandarin fish? I had it once before—it tasted great, though the smell was... unique. It left a lasting impression."
"Ha!" Maggie giggled at his conflicted expression. "It is indeed special. But if you'd like to try it, it would take several days of preparation. You know it requires a lengthy fermentation process."
"Fair enough. Just serve me the chef's specialties."
"Of course. Please follow me."
Maggie led William through the main dining hall to a cozy private room with distinctly Chinese décor. After seating him, she apologized.
"Apologies, Mr. Devonshire. Due to customer demand over the past two years, we've shifted to focusing on seafood. Preparing authentic Huizhou dishes may take some time."
"That's fine. I've got plenty of time today," William said, waving dismissively.
Relieved, Maggie smiled and prepared tea for him. About ten minutes later, an elderly man knocked and entered the room.
Introducing himself, the old man revealed he was Maggie's grandfather and the restaurant's founder. However, due to his age, he no longer cooked personally.
As they chatted, William's knowledge of Chinese culture became evident, even surpassing the elder's understanding in some areas, particularly regarding ancient traditions. Though William often paused to think before responding, his insights impressed the elderly man, who found it remarkable.
Delighted, the old man decided to personally prepare William's meal. After a few pleasantries, he headed to the kitchen, issuing instructions to Maggie to inform the staff.
Meanwhile, Bernie Lapossen, the Chemist, thought he'd found the perfect opportunity. But he couldn't access the kitchen, nor could he approach the servers bringing out dishes.
The kitchen was now dominated by the elderly chef and four middle-aged sous chefs, who had cleared out everyone else. They even insisted on serving the dishes themselves.
To ensure everything was flawless, the restaurant hung a "Full House" sign, turning away new patrons.
The elder Li explained, "It's rare to host a foreigner who's not only an English noble but also deeply passionate about Chinese culture and cuisine. His expertise in ancient traditions is extraordinary.
"How could someone speak Chinese better than some of our own people and know more than an eighty-year-old? Even my Huizhou-accented words were perfectly understood. We can't afford any mistakes or let the Li family's reputation be tarnished."
If William had known, he would've laughed. With Sunday's help, anything online could be relayed to him in less than two seconds.
Due to this meticulous attention, the Chemist could only watch helplessly as dishes were brought into the private room by two middle-aged chefs, then personally delivered to William by Maggie.
Caught lingering, he was promptly escorted out, with a clear warning that the police would be called if he didn't leave.
Frustrated, Bernie stormed out to the street, cursing, "I hate rich bastards who get special treatment everywhere they go!"
His rant was cut short when five or six cars sped up to the restaurant. A swarm of paparazzi jumped out, cameras flashing furiously toward the establishment.
Panicking, Bernie quickly turned to avoid being photographed and walked briskly away.
A few dozen steps later, he noticed William's modified Ford F-150 in the parking lot. A malicious idea struck him.
Returning to his car, Bernie drove home to retrieve special equipment before returning to the restaurant's parking lot. He parked in front of William's truck, popped his trunk, and extended a camera-equipped device into the Ford's interior.
His plan was to inject poison into the truck's air conditioning system. When William started the vehicle and turned on the AC, the toxins would circulate inside. If he was lucky, a car crash could eliminate William before the poison even took effect.
After setting up the trap, Bernie avoided the paparazzi, choosing not to stick around to confirm whether William exited through the front entrance. Instead, he waited in his car, eyes on the parking lot.
As time dragged on, it was nearly 9:30 PM. After three agonizing hours, there was still no sign of William.
Bernie, who had been trailing William for days without finding an opportunity to strike, was growing increasingly impatient. What if William had left through another exit because of the paparazzi?
Frustrated and on edge, Bernie stewed for another 20 minutes before finally snapping.
"F this!" he muttered, shoving his car door open. Pulling on a hat, he kept his head low and approached the restaurant, glaring at the swarm of paparazzi outside.
If not for these pests, he wouldn't be in such a bind.
Knowing he couldn't enter the restaurant, Bernie suppressed his urge to lash out at the photographers. Feigning curiosity, he approached one of them, asking which celebrity had drawn so much attention.
The annoyed paparazzo ignored him at first, but after Bernie persisted, he shoved him aside with a warning to back off or face consequences.
A crisp $100 bill changed his tune. Smiling greedily, the photographer snatched the cash.
------------------
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