Chapter 25: Utterly Astonished

Lin Shaozhen was utterly shocked—this was 580,000 yuan! If she had to pay the bill, she’d rather die. But just as Liang Jie and his wife were about to leave their booth, a server stopped them. “Sir, you said earlier you’d pay. You can’t just walk out.”

“That was his order, not ours!” Liang Jie shouted, his composure gone. For 580,000 yuan, he didn’t care about dignity anymore.

Li Qingying watched silently, anxiety gnawing at her. Even as the General Manager of Baili Group, she couldn’t settle a private bill of this sort. Her kind heart didn’t want to see her classmates in trouble, didn’t want to sow discord between a couple, but neither did she want to be entangled in such a mess. She was caught in a dilemma.

At that moment, He Haoxuan waved his hand. “Let them go, waiter. We’ll settle the bill later.”

The server, hearing this, stepped back a few paces.

Lin Shaozhen’s feelings were a tangled mess. She had returned to Qingshan City intending to show off in front of Li Qingying, but instead, she’d ended up humiliated by Li Qingying’s so-called useless husband. Fifty-eight thousand yuan—a sum she’d never spent even as a year’s allowance—was casually spent by He Haoxuan on a single meal. If not for his generosity in letting them leave, Liang Jie would probably have killed her.

Disappointment flooded her. Liang Jie’s pretty words were meaningless; when it came to real trouble, he was nowhere to be found. In contrast, He Haoxuan had been considerate toward Li Qingying throughout, exuding the aura of a good man. She had wanted to slap Li Qingying in the face, but instead, she was the one shamed—Liang Jie could not compare to He Haoxuan.

No longer arrogant, Liang Jie and Lin Shaozhen slunk away like beaten dogs.

Li Qingying, watching them leave, turned to He Haoxuan with worry. “Fifty-eight thousand—what do we do? I don’t have that much money on me.”

She had wanted to suggest returning the bottle of 1982 Lafite, but seeing that they had already drunk some, she didn’t dare bring it up.

He Haoxuan took out a card and handed it to the French server. “I’ll pay.”

The French waiter eyed the unusual bank card in He Haoxuan’s hand with curiosity. Though he was French, he’d spent enough time in China to recognize most of the country’s bank cards.

But this one was unfamiliar. Was it even usable? Still, he said nothing, took the card, and headed for the counter. After all, as long as it was an international card, their sky restaurant would accept it.

He Haoxuan added, “By the way, please tell your chef: foie gras is quintessentially French, but it was overcooked. If it were just a touch lighter, it would be perfect.”

The server gasped in surprise. Chinese patrons at their sky restaurant always praised the French cuisine; none had ever dared criticize it. Irritated, he gave up his earlier intention of negotiating a discount—if He Haoxuan was going to be unreasonable, he’d charge full price.

“Hey, do you really think that bank card can pay for fifty-eight thousand?” Li Qingying suspected He Haoxuan was bluffing and feared the waiter might call the police.

He Haoxuan slowly sipped his wine. “You’ll know soon enough. With your husband here, what are you afraid of?”

Before, whenever he called himself her husband, Li Qingying would feel a surge of rejection. But now, it didn’t bother her as much—especially after Lin Shaozhen’s constant mocking. In the end, it was this “useless” husband who stood up for her.

Whenever she was bullied, he was always there—at Xinghui Club, he fought Yang Zhiyi for her; at home, he confronted Li Liang; now, here in the restaurant, he’d put Lin Shaozhen in her place. The sight of Lin Shaozhen’s discomfiture would likely keep her from showing off again.

Li Qingying gritted her teeth and resolved that, even if she had to secretly divert company funds, she would cover the fifty-eight thousand. She would just have to repay it slowly.

On the restaurant stage, a young Frenchman played the cello, the elegant music enchanting, but Li Qingying’s heart was heavy.

After about half an hour, she felt they had eaten enough. He Haoxuan had ordered more dishes than they could finish, though they had emptied the 1982 Lafite.

She noticed He Haoxuan seemed to savor the wine and thought to order another bottle for him.

But He Haoxuan shook his head. “No need. Tonight we had 1982 Lafite; following it with another wine would spoil the taste. Let the fragrance linger on our lips and palate.”

“You sound like you really know your stuff,” Li Qingying remarked, sensing that he knew French and was familiar with French cuisine.

He Haoxuan smiled. “Of course. I once worked in a French restaurant. How else could I be your husband?”

“You and your jokes,” Li Qingying replied, giving him a coy look.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps approached. Looking up, they saw the French server rushing toward them, followed closely by a man in a white chef’s jacket.

Li Qingying’s heart skipped a beat—something was wrong. The restaurant must have discovered that He Haoxuan’s card was fake and were coming to confront them.

The two Frenchmen stopped at their table, and Li Qingying quickly stood. “There’s no need to panic. This is my credit card—it has a one-million limit.”

He Haoxuan glanced at her with interest. “Wife, you care about me so much you’d pay for me?”

This was fifty-eight thousand yuan—Liang Jie had slapped Lin Shaozhen over it. Wasn’t he just a “useless” husband to her? Why would she be willing to pay for him?

“I—I just don’t want to be unable to leave,” Li Qingying replied awkwardly.

The server eyed Li Qingying’s credit card in confusion. “Madam, what are you doing?”

“Aren’t you here for the bill? I’m paying,” she answered.

The chef behind him shook his head vigorously. “No, no. To express my gratitude, your meal tonight is on the house.”

“On the house? We don’t have to pay fifty-eight thousand?” Li Qingying exclaimed.

“Yes. You just shared a new way of preparing foie gras—it opened my mind. My culinary skills have reached a new level,” the chef said, waving his fists in excitement.

“A new cooking method is worth fifty-eight thousand?” Li Qingying found it hard to believe.

Hearing her doubt, the chef became indignant. “Don’t underestimate my craft. A single signature dish can bring worldwide fame—something money can’t buy.”