Chapter 19: The Chef's Doubt

Although the kitchen was not yet lit, he already detected many unpleasant odors—the unmistakable smell of cooking oil smoke that no professional kitchen could avoid. Once the fire was lit, thick clouds of smoke would fill the air, almost suffocating anyone inside. He didn’t mind it himself, but he was unwilling to let little Nian Nian stay in such an environment.

His gaze shifted to Uncle Zhong, and he asked, “The kitchen smoke is too heavy for a child to stay here. Do you have a library or study room in your house?”

Uncle Zhong was momentarily taken aback. He hadn’t expected the chef’s first concern to be about this. He thought the young man would immediately start cooking. It seemed this young man appeared cold on the surface but was actually careful and responsible. Unconsciously, Uncle Zhong’s impression of Chen Yu shifted subtly.

“Yes, of course,” he quickly came to his senses, his smile becoming more sincere. “Sir’s study is on the second floor of the main building, with a rich collection of books and absolute quiet. I’ll take the little miss over there.”

Chen Yu looked down at Nian Nian, who was a bit nervous. After all, she was in an unfamiliar place, and her father wasn’t taking her along—it felt like he was setting her aside. For a child, that was frightening.

Chen Yu noticed immediately. He crouched down to meet her eyes, reaching out to smooth the stray hairs on her forehead.

“Little bookworm, how about you stay in the study for a while? There are many books there, much more interesting than your worn-out copy of ‘The Little Prince.’ I’ll come get you as soon as I finish cooking.”

Nian Nian bit her lip and whispered, “Will it be very soon?”

“Very soon,” Chen Yu assured her.

He stood up and nodded to Uncle Zhong. “Thank you for your help.”

“No trouble at all, Mr. Chen,” Uncle Zhong replied kindly, smiling at Nian Nian. “Little miss, please come with me.”

Nian Nian glanced at Chen Yu and then Uncle Zhong before obediently nodding. She released her grip on the edge of Chen Yu’s clothes and whispered, “Daddy, I’ll wait for you.”

With that, she toddled after Uncle Zhong toward the main building.

Chen Yu remained where he was, watching her small figure disappear around the corner of the corridor before lowering his gaze.

The Lin family kitchen was even larger and more professional than he had imagined. The entire space spanned over two hundred square meters, divided into distinct areas: vegetable washing, cutting and preparation, pastry, cooking, cold dishes...

From top-of-the-line stoves imported from Germany to professional ovens taller than a person, it had everything, rivaling the back kitchen of a five-star hotel.

Inside, four or five chefs in white uniforms were bustling about. They glanced curiously as Uncle Zhong led a casually dressed young man inside.

“Housekeeper Zhong,” said a slightly overweight man who looked to be the head chef, pausing his work to approach.

Uncle Zhong introduced, “This is Mr. Chen Yu. He will be responsible for the master’s dinner tonight.”

The head chef’s eyes swept over Chen Yu, a flicker of disdain crossing his gaze. Too young. And his outfit hardly looked like that of a cook—more like a model about to walk the runway.

Having worked in this field for thirty years, rising from apprentice to head chef of the Lin family’s prestigious kitchen, he had seen every kind of cook. Each bore calloused hands and carried the lingering scent of oil smoke.

This young man’s skin was smooth and clean—nothing about him suggested he could cook.

“Housekeeper Zhong, the master’s dinner is significant, and the guests are all distinguished…” The head chef’s words trailed off, but his meaning was clear. He seriously doubted Chen Yu’s abilities.

The other chefs stopped their tasks, arms crossed, eagerly watching the unfolding drama. They were all disciples of the head chef, loyal to him without question.

Uncle Zhong’s expression showed some difficulty. As housekeeper, he usually deferred to the head chef on kitchen matters.

Yet Chen Yu didn’t even bother to raise an eyelid.

“From now on, I’m taking over this kitchen. All of you, leave.”

“What?” The head chef was the first to shout. “You want us out? On what grounds?”

This was his domain! Who was this brash youngster to take it from him?

“Because I don’t want anyone getting in my way,” Chen Yu’s gaze turned cold. “Or do you want to stay and be my assistant?”

The head chef’s face flushed dark red. An assistant? That was the greatest insult to his thirty years of experience!

“You…” he trembled with anger.

“Master Wang,” Uncle Zhong, who had been silent until now, finally stepped forward and patted the head chef on the shoulder, speaking softly, “This is the master’s instruction. We must comply.”

Hearing the word “master,” much of the head chef’s fury subsided, replaced by deep unwillingness and confusion. Why would the master trust such a young man?

But he dared not defy the owner’s command. He shot Chen Yu a fierce glare, as if willing to bore holes through him with his eyes.

“Fine! Fine! I want to see what tricks you can pull off!”

With that, he tore off his apron, slammed it onto the cutting board, and strode out without looking back.

The other chefs reluctantly followed.

The vast kitchen suddenly stood empty except for Chen Yu alone.

Uncle Zhong hesitated, then asked, “Mr. Chen, do you really not need any help? Like controlling the heat or preparing utensils…”

“No need.” Chen Yu didn’t look back as he took a neatly wrapped, square-shaped item from the refrigerated box. “Don’t let anyone disturb me until I’m finished. I’ll notify you when I’m done.”

“...Understood.”

Uncle Zhong nodded, took one last glance at the solitary figure standing before the large workbench, then quietly withdrew and thoughtfully closed the kitchen door.

Outside, the head chef and his apprentices lingered nearby in the lounge.

“Master, that kid is way too arrogant! He actually kicked us all out!” one young chef complained indignantly.

“Exactly! I bet he’s all show—a pretty face with a fancy knife thinking he’s some culinary god!”

Master Wang said nothing, his face grave.

Arrogant? Indeed.

But for some reason, a foreboding feeling gnawed at him deep down.