The foyer wasn’t large, but in a city like Beijing where every inch of land is precious, it was already spacious enough. Besides, the place boasted a full four stories, with a row of flashy cars parked outside. The men and women coming and going were dressed in a way that made it clear this was a high-end establishment—definitely not the kind of place selling ten or twenty yuan set meals.

“Are they messing with us again?” Sam Parker hesitated a bit. He glanced at the girl he’d just met, but she shook her head—clearly she didn’t know, and had obviously never been here before.

“Hakka cuisine is pretty niche—small crowd, refined, but not cheap,” said Paul Grant.

“You’ve tried it?” Sam Parker asked in surprise, since Paul Grant didn’t look like someone who could afford it. Paul Grant looked up, holding his phone: “Haven’t tried it, but I looked it up… The minimum spend here is 188 yuan.”

He’d asked Baidu, and asked thoroughly—there were even photos of the restaurant’s interior. Seeing the level of the place, everyone felt even more like they were being played. Would they really spend this kind of money on people who were currently unemployed? In Beijing, there weren’t many private companies that would actually pay you all your labor fees.

So what now? Paul Grant looked at Sam Parker, but unexpectedly found Sam Parker looking at David Clark, as if he was the real backbone here. David Clark frowned, thought for a moment, and said suspiciously, “I have a feeling…the recruitment is just starting now. Come on, let’s eat—maybe it’ll be a lavish lunch.”

He strolled ahead, Sam Parker following close behind. Paul Grant hesitated for a moment, but was dragged along by Sam Parker. He’d said it before: let’s go, back in the day all us delivery guys followed him—trust Mr. Clark, and you’ll get fed.

The girl lagging behind hesitated for a moment, furrowed her brow, then followed these three freeloaders inside…

Chapter 05: A Surprise, Not a Joy

Sometimes, life is like buying a lottery ticket—if you’re not careful, oh my, you win a small prize. What a surprise!

From the moment they stepped into the Hakka Private Kitchen hotel, the surprises began.

As soon as the hostess saw the meal voucher in David Clark’s hand, she raised her delicate hand and said with utmost respect, “This way, please. Second floor, VIP private room, Osmanthus Suite.”

David Clark seemed to sense something, but didn’t look surprised. Sam Parker, on the other hand, had never experienced such treatment before—he grinned from ear to ear, utterly astonished. He was just a guy who ate at street stalls and open-air diners; he’d never seen anything like this.

Paul Grant was also uncomfortable, feeling a nervousness like he was about to be sold off. The young woman who’d been following behind was even more anxious, glancing at Sam Parker for reassurance. For a moment, Sam Parker’s boldness kicked in and he whispered, “Let’s eat our fill first—then we’ll have the energy to run if we need to.”

It probably wouldn’t come to that—the girl smiled.

The hostess led the four of them upstairs. David Clark was tugged from behind; turning around, he saw Paul Grant giving him a look. David Clark smiled and gestured for him to relax.

It really was a surprise—not boxed meals, not a buffet, but a VIP private room, complete with lounge chairs, a tea table, and a restroom. The server poured water, and Sam Parker excitedly looked around.

Paul Grant couldn’t hold back and asked the hostess, “Sister, this is a work meal? Such high standards?”

“Yes, that’s right. Haman Business Company booked this level—they’re one of our regular clients,” the hostess replied with a smile.

The server brought the menu, and hearing this, Sam Parker got excited. He started ordering: yellow wine chicken, braised pork with preserved vegetables, dry-braised fish, lobster… As he ordered, he boasted, “Ah, eating for free is great—don’t even have to ask the price.” If David Clark hadn’t snatched the menu away, he probably would’ve ordered a few more dishes. He handed the menu to Paul Grant, who casually added a vegetable dish and a nourishing soup. Once done, he closed the menu and handed it back to David Clark.

David Clark stared at him blankly. Paul Grant asked, “What’s wrong?”

It was nothing, really—just that Paul Grant’s carefree way of ordering didn’t fit the image of a struggling mobile phone salesman in the high-end communications industry. David Clark smiled, “It’s nothing. You’re even bolder than San’er—a single soup costs more than several dishes.”

“Is that so? Then I’ll add two more,” Sam Parker felt like he was missing out. Paul Grant just laughed it off.

“All right, all right, that’s enough,” David Clark stopped them and handed the menu back to the server.

Once the server left, the room erupted with excitement—nervousness mixed with surprise, it was exhilarating. Sam Parker was feeling smug; good thing he’d asked them for help, otherwise where would this feast have come from? Paul Grant was still uneasy, laughing, “Feels like time travel—from Baolong to Wanliu Bridge is just a few kilometers, but the distance from miserable to awesome isn’t far at all.” The two of them whispered to each other, then glanced at the silent David Clark and the girl. Paul Grant was about to speak when Sam Parker jumped in: “Her name is Jill King.”

Paul Grant tried to say something else, but Sam Parker cut him off again: “Gender: female; age: 24; graduated from South China Normal University, been in Beijing for two years, just quit a job at a publishing house.”

With everything so clearly stated, Paul Grant had nothing left to ask. He simply asked Sam Parker, “I was going to ask her myself—why are you answering?”

“I was afraid someone with bad intentions would try to chat her up,” Sam Parker was even more vigilant than the girl. But seeing Paul Grant’s delicate features, he immediately changed his tune and said to Jill King, “Jiao, it’s fine—he could be your bestie.”