Chapter 89: The Opposite Effect

Although he had promised Han Jiayi not to tell anyone else, Bai Renzong couldn’t help but bring up the matter with Wang Bei after returning home from Yijia Pavilion.

Han Jiayi was always so full of energy and positivity; he had never imagined that such a girl would end up in tears because of something he’d said. Just how sharp-tongued was he?

“Xiaobei, am I really that mean?” Bai Renzong asked in disbelief. “Today, Jiayi actually cried because of me.”

“Why did you bully Sister Jiayi?!” Wang Bei punched him straight in the shoulder, demanding angrily.

“I didn’t! I just gave her some suggestions for improving her set menu,” Bai Renzong explained. “And then today… she suddenly cried, saying I always criticize her but never praise her.”

“Is that so?” Wang Bei thought for a moment and replied, “Actually, Sister Jiayi is usually very strong. She gets criticized a lot, but most of the time she doesn’t care. Maybe it’s because you’re special to her?”

“Be serious,” Bai Renzong frowned.

“I am serious!” Wang Bei replied earnestly. “Other people don’t hit the mark when they criticize her—their words just make themselves look foolish, so Sister Jiayi doesn’t mind. But you always go straight to the point, and she can’t talk back.”

“That’s true…” Bai Renzong propped his chin, pondering: it seemed he really needed to be more careful in the future. After all, she was a girl.

Thinking back on the scene when Han Jiayi had been moved to tears by his words, Bai Renzong felt both amused and distressed: she had looked so adorable, like a little girl scolded by her father, and in that instant, all his defenses were undone.

“From now on, I should praise her before making suggestions…” Bai Renzong sighed to himself.

After all, others only had to endure his critiques once, but Han Jiayi had to face them almost every day.

Still, recalling Han Jiayi’s delighted expression after he posted his review video of “Cloud’s Veil,” it was clear to him just how much she valued his opinion. This realization made him feel even more guilty, so he decided to find a way to make it up to her…

Yijia Pavilion.

“What on earth is wrong with me?” In the kitchen, Han Jiayi covered her face, overcome with embarrassment. “Of course I know he’s trying to help me improve my set menu for my own good. Why did I cry over such a small thing… I’m not a child anymore.”

Muttering to herself, Han Jiayi suddenly waved a small fist and tapped herself on the head, “Honestly! Why am I so off my guard around him? What if he thinks I’m fragile…”

She shook her head, “No, no! I have to pull myself together and go home full of spirit!”

With this thought, Han Jiayi took a deep breath, mustered her energy, and threw herself back into her kitchen work.

Back at her station, she was once again the confident and graceful figure everyone knew—preparing the set menus with ease, her efficiency alone rivaling that of an entire kitchen staff.

When the dinner rush finally came to an end, Han Jiayi bid her colleagues goodbye.

“Great job, everyone. I’ll leave the rest to you, Huihui,” she said with a smile to the acting head chef, then changed her clothes and drove home.

Standing at her door, Han Jiayi took a deep breath and patted her cheeks. “If that critic Bai teases me, I’ll just say I watched a tragedy yesterday, and I’ve been a bit sentimental…” she murmured, nodding to herself. Then, opening the door, she called out with a smile, “I’m home!”

But as soon as she looked up, she saw Bai Renzong standing in the living room—and behind him, the table was set with a feast.

“You… you cooked this?” Han Jiayi asked in surprise. “You can cook?”

“Yes.” Bai Renzong nodded with a smile. “I’ve lived on my own for so long, so I can manage the basics. I just followed the steps in those cooking apps, and managed to put together a meal.”

He beckoned her over, “Come on, try it. I’ll let you criticize me all you want—get it off your chest.”

Han Jiayi pressed her lips together, struggling to hold back a smile as she regarded Bai Renzong with interest: My goodness! The great critic Bai has cooked for me himself? And he wants me to critique him? Isn’t this his way of apologizing to me?

“Well then, I’ll give it a try.” Han Jiayi changed her shoes and sat down at the table, feeling a novel sense of warmth: it was truly nice to come home and find someone had made dinner.

Bai Renzong had prepared crispy fried pork and a plate of black pepper beef pasta—dishes as simple as could be for her.

“Go ahead, say whatever you like.” Bai Renzong smiled. “Vent all your usual complaints about me.”

“Very well, I won’t hold back.” Han Jiayi said with a grin, picked up a piece of crispy pork, and took a bite. Her expression instantly darkened.

After a moment’s silence, she tasted the black pepper beef pasta, her brows furrowing more and more.

“What’s wrong? Is it really that bad?” Bai Renzong asked, puzzled. He took a bite of the pasta himself. “I don’t think it’s that bad…”

Han Jiayi propped her chin with her hand, smoldering with frustration: It’s actually delicious!

Granted, the pork was a little over-fried, and the pasta a bit overcooked before stir-frying, but the seasoning was absolutely spot-on.

The simpler the dish, the more the basics stand out.

Take the crispy pork, for instance—it’s mostly about marinating tenderloin, coating it, and frying it. So the final flavor all comes down to the marinade; even a little too much or too little makes a clear difference.

And Bai Renzong’s seasoning was… flawless. Just the right amount: a bit more salt would have been too much, a bit less, too bland.

In short, his seasoning was nearly impeccable.

The black pepper beef pasta was the same—the proportions of black pepper and salt were just right.

No fancy tricks, just simple, honest deliciousness.

And yet Bai Renzong still seemed confused, “I just followed the instructions in the cooking app… Though it’s my first time.”

This man is infuriating… Han Jiayi chewed her pork fiercely, thinking: She knew the shortcomings of these two dishes were only due to Bai Renzong’s lack of experience. If he had as much experience as she did, he’d probably cook better than her.

It was like being criticized, and when you retorted, “If you’re so good, you do it!”—and then he did, and was actually good at it.

How could that not be exasperating!

No way! I absolutely cannot lose to Critic Bai! I’m a graduate of the Cordon Bleu, I’ve been cooking since I was sixteen! How could I lose to him?! Han Jiayi fumed inwardly, her fighting spirit instantly reignited.

“Just say it,” Bai Renzong looked at Han Jiayi with a face of mock martyrdom. “Tell me where I went wrong.”

“The crispy pork was fried a few minutes too long,” Han Jiayi glared at him. “You should have taken it out two or three minutes earlier. It looks pale in the oil, but after it’s left out to cool, it darkens.”

“Mhm.” Bai Renzong nodded with a smile. “Go on.”

“And the pasta—it was overcooked before stir-frying, so it’s too soft,” Han Jiayi continued.

Bai Renzong nodded again, “Anything else?”

“That’s about it…” Han Jiayi mumbled softly.

Bai Renzong finally seemed satisfied, “Let’s do this—every week I’ll cook once, and you can critique me. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

Should she call him clumsy or adorable? Han Jiayi pressed her lips to keep from laughing, glanced at Bai Renzong, and nodded, “Alright.”

(Thanks to the flock of birds in the sky for the votes, and to Starwish Starfield and Little Red Riding Hood’s Dahongpao for their two votes.)