“What is your dream?”

When Bu Meng was ten years old, her teacher asked her this question. She blinked her big, watery eyes, thought for a moment, and said, "A manga artist. I want to be a manga artist like Hayao Miyazaki."

It was 2002 at the time, and Miyazaki's *Spirited Away* had just been released. Bu Meng was deeply in love with the characters Chihiro and Haku, as well as No-Face and the bathhouse.

So, she also wanted to use her pen to create a world like that.

Fifteen years later, at the age of 25, Bu Meng, perhaps because of her unwavering childhood dream, actually became a manga artist and published several best-selling books.

Although she wasn’t as famous as Hayao Miyazaki, she was still somewhat well-known in the domestic manga circle.

But her mother... no, it should be her stepmother, didn’t like her career choice. As her stepmother put it:

"This kind of job is unstable, relying on inspiration and personal preferences. What if one day you suddenly can't draw anymore? What will you do then?"

"A girl should be like our Bu Tian, studying hard, getting a job in a big company in the future, with a pension and retirement benefits. That’s stability."

Bu Tian was her eight-years-younger half-sister, her stepmother's biological daughter.

Bu Meng wasn’t convinced and argued back a few times, but she didn’t expect her stepmother to bring up her own mother. Her father even sided with her stepmother.

Feeling wronged, Bu Meng ran back to her apartment.

But when she got to the door, she realized that she had left her apartment keys at that house.

This was the final straw. Exhausted, hungry, and feeling utterly wronged, she sat down at the door and started to cry.

Yan Shu happened to come home at that moment and witnessed this scene.

In the dimly lit hallway, a woman with long hair in a white dress was squatting on the ground, crying. To be honest, Yan Shu was a bit creeped out.

He silently chanted a few lines of “Amitabha” in his mind before daring to approach her. He carefully reached out to pat Bu Meng’s shoulder.

“Miss, are you okay?”

Bu Meng lifted her tear-streaked face, startling Yan Shu so much that his scalp tingled. He took several steps back before regaining his composure.

After taking a closer look and confirming that she was indeed a person and not something spooky, he cautiously stepped forward again.

“What’s wrong? Do you need help?”

Bu Meng, still sobbing, hiccuped and said in a pitiful, tearful voice, "I’m hungry."

"...” Yan Shu was a bit embarrassed. It was the first time he had seen someone crying so hard simply because they were hungry.

He glanced at his own tightly closed apartment door and roughly understood what was going on.

He opened the door to his apartment and extended his hand to Bu Meng. “If you don’t mind, you can come to my place. I’ll get you something to eat, so stop crying.”

Bu Meng, after crying for so long, had her eyes swollen from the tears. She blinked a few times before she could clearly see what the person in front of her looked like.

Tall and handsome, with a light blue shirt that seemed to suit his style. Then she looked at the hand he offered—long, slender, and fair, with distinct knuckles. Hand-obsessed Bu Meng was instantly captivated.

She was so entranced by his good looks that she absentmindedly took his hand and followed him home, just as absentmindedly.

When Bu Meng sat down on Yan Shu’s sofa, although she wasn’t crying anymore, she was still hiccuping from all the crying.

Yan Shu, inexplicably touched by her vulnerability, felt as though he had brought home a stray kitten.

He took some ribs out of the fridge, prepared rice wine, sugar, salt, and other seasonings, and then got to work.

He blanched the ribs to remove the scum, mixed rice wine, soy sauce, sugar, and vinegar in a 1:2:3:4 ratio to make the sweet and sour sauce, sliced ginger, peeled garlic, and set them aside. After washing the ribs, he put them in the pot, added the ginger, garlic, water, and the sweet and sour sauce... and thirty minutes later, the sweet and sour spare ribs were ready.

The perfectly balanced sweet and sour sauce coated the succulent ribs. Yan Shu brought the ribs to Bu Meng, and her eyes lit up.

“Eat,” Yan Shu said.

Bu Meng nodded, picked up a piece, and placed it in her mouth. Her eyes sparkled with delight.

The taste was perfectly balanced—not too sweet, not too sour, not greasy at all. The texture was rich and delicate, and the meat was cooked to the perfect tenderness. None of the flavors were overpowering.

Bu Meng was so taken by the dish that she forgot all about her manners, devouring everything and even mixing the remaining sauce with rice to eat three more bowls.

After she had eaten her fill, her feelings of being wronged dissipated.

Yan Shu called the property management to unlock her door. Before returning to her apartment, Bu Meng said to Yan Shu, “Handsome, your cooking skills are top-notch. If you made a living off of this, you’d definitely make a fortune.”

As a Michelin three-star chef, Yan Shu smiled subtly, hiding his accomplishments and fame.

“I’ll consider it in the future.”

Bu Meng usually stayed home working on her drawings, relying mostly on takeout and instant noodles to get by. Occasionally, she would cook, but the results were far from impressive.

It's easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard to go back to being frugal. After tasting the gourmet food made by the handsome guy next door, eating her own cooking felt like one of the ten tortures of the Qing Dynasty.

After much thought, Bu Meng went to the supermarket, bought a bunch of ingredients, and then knocked on Yan Shu's door.

When Yan Shu opened the door and saw the beautiful girl standing outside, he was a bit bewildered.

Who is she? What is she doing here? Does she have some ulterior motive?

"Um, Yan Shu, last time you treated me to sweet and sour spare ribs, so this time, as a courtesy, I'd like to treat you to hot pot."

Yan Shu then remembered that this was the same girl who had cried from hunger the other day. He was about to decline her invitation, but then she put on a pitiful expression and said, "Eating hot pot alone is so sad."

Feeling a pang of sympathy, Yan Shu agreed.

But when he got to her place, he realized he had been tricked.

Hot pot, she said—where’s the hot pot? The ingredients still in their bags didn't quite match the promise of hot pot.

Bu Meng gave a triumphant smile, then feigned embarrassment, "Sorry, I’ve been so busy that I didn’t have time to prepare. You can sit down; I’ll just wash and chop the vegetables... It should only take two or three hours."

Yan Shu could easily see through her little ploy. With a sigh, he resigned himself to his fate and rolled up his sleeves, "I’ll do it."

This was exactly the outcome Bu Meng wanted, so she didn’t refuse. Watching Yan Shu head to the kitchen, she happily followed, "Need any help?"

Yan Shu glanced at her and said, "Yes."

Bu Meng eagerly asked, "What should I do?"

“Keep your mouth shut and don’t drool all over the place, it’ll mess up my work.”

Uh, rejected.

With the chef’s orders given, how could Bu Meng not obey? While Yan Shu was busy in the kitchen, she opened a bag of chips and got back to her drawing. Before long, Yan Shu called her to the dining table.

Bu Meng put down her work and ran over, unable to help exclaiming, "What a feast!" The steaming hot red and white broths, the array of ingredients beautifully arranged on white porcelain plates, all looked and smelled absolutely mouthwatering.

Her glowing expression gave Yan Shu a sense of accomplishment. He pulled out a chair for her, made a gesture of invitation, and then said, "Come on, don’t hold back your desires. Go ahead and unleash your true nature."

Bu Meng's reaction, as she described it, was like a wild horse breaking free from its reins.

But Yan Shu didn’t agree with that. He had his own unique perspective: “This isn’t a wild horse breaking free. You’re more like a pig that’s been let out of its pen to forage.”

Alright, well, since she was at his mercy, if he said she was a pig, then a pig she was.

Bu Meng loved spicy food, but Yan Shu had a much milder palate. As Bu Meng began to sweat from the spiciness, she noticed that Yan Shu was only eating from the white broth. She asked, “Don’t tell me you can’t eat spicy food?”

Yan Shu nodded, "Is it that strange that I don’t eat spicy food?"

Bu Meng tried a piece of meat from the white broth, then stuck out her tongue in disdain, "This bland broth and flavorless meat—I’m not saying anything, but your taste is really mild, like a little girl’s."

Yan Shu chuckled and retorted mercilessly, "If eating from the white broth makes my taste like a little girl’s, then what about you eating from the red broth? Does that make you a burly guy with an eight-pack?"

From that moment on, Yan Shu started calling Bu Meng "Bu Dahan" (Bu the Strong Man).

Bu Meng had an unusual name. When she ate sweet and sour spare ribs at Yan Shu’s place, she hadn’t mentioned her name. After finishing the hot pot, Yan Shu asked, “Dining buddy, I still don’t know your name.”

She proudly announced her full name, "My name is Bu Meng."

“Not cute?” Yan Shu frowned. He bent down to look at her face, studied it carefully, then curled his lips into a smile, "Pretty cute, actually."

Bu Meng was 25 years old, which wasn’t that old, but her stepmother was eager to marry her off, and her father listened to whatever her stepmother said. So, her family started arranging blind dates for her.

Bu Meng couldn’t refuse, so she had no choice but to go along.

She had seen all kinds of strange characters in her life; if one came, she would take care of one, if two came, she’d take care of both. She treated it as adding a little fun to her life.

The first blind date was with a doctor, and they arranged to meet at a café.

Her stepmother was worried that she might cause trouble, so she followed along, from watching her get dressed at home to seeing her sit down in front of the blind date. Only then did her stepmother leave.

The guy was polite, well-mannered, and gentle, but unfortunately, not Bu Meng’s type.

Bu Meng was uninterested, responding with one word for every sentence he said, making the situation somewhat awkward.

Later, the doctor suggested they go out for a meal. Bu Meng thought for a moment and came up with a plan. She said, “I don’t really want to eat a full meal. How about we have some noodles instead? Zhajiangmian.”

This was the only sentence Bu Meng actively said during the entire date.

The doctor naturally didn’t refuse, which was exactly what Bu Meng wanted.

At the restaurant, as soon as they sat down, Bu Meng waved over the waiter to order.

“Waiter, I’ll have five pounds of zhajiangmian.”

Her voice was loud, and as soon as she spoke, not only the doctor and the waiter but even the other customers in the restaurant turned to look at her.

Five pounds of noodles— even a pig doesn’t have that kind of appetite.

The waiter had never encountered a customer ordering noodles by the pound and was stunned for a moment before reacting.

The five pounds of noodles were brought out in bowls, one in front of the doctor, three in front of Bu Meng, with the rest still being prepared.

The doctor had only taken a few bites before Bu Meng started attacking her second bowl.

Maybe Bu Meng’s eating was too ferocious because the doctor soon found an excuse to leave without finishing his noodles.

Bu Meng, satisfied after finishing her three bowls of zhajiangmian, let out a contented burp. Watching the doctor flee, she smirked to herself, “What a coward, and he still dared to come on a blind date with me.”

The waiter, noticing that they were on a blind date and that the man had left, kindly asked, “Do you still want the rest of the noodles?”

Bu Meng thought for a moment, “Pack them to go.”

As night fell, Bu Meng hopped back to her apartment with two pounds of packed zhajiangmian. Just as she was about to take out her keys to open the door, she changed her mind and went to knock on Yan Shu’s door instead.

After a while, Yan Shu opened the door. Bu Meng dangled the packed noodles in front of him, “Want some zhajiangmian? It’s super tasty.”

Yan Shu half-closed his eyes and poked her forehead with his finger, “You little glutton, are you trying to trick me into cooking for you again by bringing me the ingredients?”

He still remembered the spicy hotpot incident vividly.

Bu Meng felt a bit embarrassed, “Last time was an accident, but this time I’m sincere. I specifically brought this back for you.”

Yan Shu stared at her for a long time before reaching out to take the noodles from her hand, “Come in and eat together.”

Bu Meng followed him inside. Yan Shu divided the noodles into two portions, offering one to her, but she refused.

No way. She had already eaten three bowls at the restaurant, and even her burps still tasted like zhajiangmian. If she ate any more, her stomach might give out.

Yan Shu found this odd. Since when did someone with such a big appetite refuse food? Something was definitely up.

Just as he was about to question her, Bu Meng’s stepmother called, scolding her loudly.

“You’re really trying to drive me mad! During the blind date, he took you out to eat, and you said you wanted noodles. Fine, noodles it is, but why did you order five pounds? Who would marry a woman who can eat three big bowls of noodles?”

Her stepmother’s thunderous roar came through the phone loud and clear, and Yan Shu had to stifle his laughter. So that’s what happened—no wonder she didn’t want to eat anymore.

Bu Meng hung up the phone, turned around, and saw Yan Shu trying hard not to laugh, his face turning red.

She scowled, “It’s not very nice of you to laugh at me like that.”

“Alright, alright, I won’t laugh,” Yan Shu said, standing up. “Three big bowls, huh? That appetite really lives up to the name Bu Dahan, but you might get indigestion. I’ll make some soup for you.”

Yan Shu took out some seasonal vegetables from the fridge, diced them, sautéed them with olive oil, then added tomatoes and seasonings, covered the pot, and let it simmer for about two minutes before adding some water to make a soup.

Bu Meng, drawn by the delicious aroma, ran over to watch, her eyes gleaming as she stared at the pot, “What are you making?”

“Vegetable tomato soup, good for digestion.”

Bu Meng was instantly smitten, holding her face in admiration, “Chef, you’re so considerate and virtuous. In my heart, you’re as great as my mom.”

Yan Shu was speechless.