sun had climbed high over Beijing, spilling golden light across the city streets. Inside Gu Xuelan's newly opened restaurant, the air was warm with the scent of simmering broths and sizzling meat. The polished wooden floors reflected the soft glow of lanterns hung in every corner, their paper shades patterned with delicate cherry blossoms. The tables were arranged just so, giving the room a sense of spaciousness, and small vases of fresh flowers adorned each one. Everything was poised to impress.
Gu Xuelan stood near the entrance, her posture immaculate, her crimson Cheongsam hugging her figure just enough to suggest both elegance and authority. She had rehearsed this morning's introductions a dozen times in her mind, yet she did not need to speak yet. The first arrivals—the critics and reporters—had just stepped into the restaurant, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and subtle judgment.
