The rainy season in the Capital brought a chill that seeped into the bones, but inside Xi Garden, the heat from the woks kept the atmosphere electric. Lin Xi was currently perfecting a "Modern Spicy Fish" that used the Sichuan peppercorns she'd sourced from a traveling merchant.
The bell at the door chimed. It wasn't the usual rush of factory workers or the polite click of a soldier's boots.
A group of men in dark, waterproof trench coats walked in. They didn't ask for a table. They stood in a line, blocking the entrance.
"We're closed for a private event," Lin Xi said, not looking up from her knife. "If you want a meal, come back at five."
"I'm not here for the fish, Miss Lin," a voice rasped.
A younger man, perhaps twenty-five, stepped forward. He had slicked-back hair and a scar that ran through his left ear. This was Chen Long, the son of the Southern King. In this version, the "King" is a distant threat, and his son is the one sent to harass her.
"My father says you have something that belongs to us," Chen Long said, tossing a rusted, old tobacco tin onto the counter.
Lin Xi froze. She recognized that tin. It belonged to her father.
"Where did you get this?" she asked, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"In a gambling den in Guangzhou," Chen Long smirked. "Your father left more than just a tin, Lin Xi. He left a debt of five thousand yuan and a promise. He said his daughter was the 'best cook in the North' and that her hands were worth the gold."
This is a Long-Term Hook. She isn't being asked to pay today.
"Five thousand yuan?" Lin Xi scoffed, regained her composure. "That's a fairytale."
"Believe what you want," Chen Long said, leaning over the counter. "But my father is coming to the Capital next month for the Trade Fair. He expects the first installment of one thousand yuan by then. If not... well, I hear the Military Compound is very strict about the 'reputation' of the women their officers associate with."
After Chen Long left, the kitchen felt cold. Lin Xi sat at a prep table, the tobacco tin in her hand. Inside was a single, crumpled photo of her father and a small, hand-drawn map of a mountain range in the South.
Why did he have this? Was he really just a gambler?
Gu Shaozheng arrived twenty minutes later, his coat damp from the rain. He saw the tin immediately.
"Who was here?" he asked, his eyes sharpening. He could smell the lingering scent of foreign cigarettes—the kind only smugglers used.
"A ghost from the South," Lin Xi said, hiding the tin. She wasn't ready to tell him yet. If she relied on him for everything, she would never truly be free. She needed to handle this debt through her business.
"Shaozheng, I need to expand," she said suddenly. "The shop is too small. I need a bigger kitchen, and I need to start bottling my 'Signature Sauce' for the state-run grocery stores."
Gu Shaozheng frowned. "Expansion takes time, Xi'er. And it takes connections you don't have yet. The Secretary is still watching you like a hawk."
"Then I'll make the Secretary a partner," Lin Xi said, a bold plan forming in her mind. "Not the father—the rival. Lin Jiaojiao's father has a boss. I'm going to go over his head."