Abigail Grant was rather annoyed. She had originally looked down on this fool, hoping to regain some dignity, but this guy remained as calm and pleasant as ever, completely unfazed, which was truly discouraging. She could only nod her head, and with a slightly threatening tone, said, “Your name is Brian Carter, I’ll remember you.”

“Please come again and support our business.”

“You…” Abigail Grant was momentarily at a loss for words, but then suddenly smiled and said, “Fine, just wait and see. We’ll meet again, and I’m afraid you’ll be scared out of your wits then.”

Brian Carter frowned, and couldn’t help but think to himself, “I already regret not overcharging her one more time.”

Abigail Grant had already left. As she was leaving, she turned back to glance at the signboard hanging above the restaurant’s entrance. The four golden characters, written in a bold, flowing script, stood out so clearly in the setting sun.

Abigail Grant shook her head, and suddenly paused in surprise: “Heaven and earth possess righteous energy, which takes myriad forms; below, it becomes rivers and mountains, above, the sun and stars… Strange, why have I never heard this poem before? Hmm, I’d better look it up when I get back.”

She was a bookworm, having studied under the supervision of her father, the prime minister, since childhood. Later, she entered the palace and was responsible for drafting imperial edicts. Besides attending Empress Wu Zetian, she spent most of her time shutting herself in the imperial library. She had a photographic memory and believed that all the poems and essays in the world were stored in her mind. Yet the poem Brian Carter had just recited, though not outstanding in its wording, upon closer thought, possessed a directness and grandeur, unadorned and powerful enough to shake mountains and rivers.

She suddenly began to pay attention, and thinking of the pearl and jade soup in the food box, she felt that this outing, aside from that annoying bookworm, had actually yielded quite a bit.

……

Not long after Abigail Grant left,

Mr. Sullivan arrived. This Mr. Sullivan, whose given name was a single character, was plump but did not carry the air of a merchant; instead, he had a certain dignity.

A small sedan chair stopped at the entrance of Ruchun Restaurant, and the manager John Foster attentively helped Charles Sullivan out.

Charles Sullivan’s hair was freshly washed, he wore a long headscarf and a straight-collared, luxurious robe, looking very stately. After getting out of the sedan, he did not enter the restaurant immediately, but stood with his hands behind his back, looking up at the signboard hanging above the entrance, his eyes burning as they fell on the four characters “Unmatched Culinary Skills.”

It took quite some effort before his greedy gaze finally withdrew, and then he stepped into the restaurant.

Relying on the bookworm’s memories, Brian Carter recognized him and said gruffly, “Sir, are you here to eat?”

Charles Sullivan stood with his hands behind his back, saying nothing.

John Foster hurriedly brought over a chair, and only then did Charles Sullivan slowly sit down. He glanced at Brian Carter, suddenly smiled, and, as if making small talk, said, “You finally hung up this signboard. What I worried about most was this. You, after all, are just a bookworm, good for nothing but quoting books. Actually, this signboard is of no use to you, but it’s very useful to the The Sullivan Family. I’m here today just to let you make one last choice…”

Seeing him act so high and mighty, Brian Carter couldn’t help but sneer, “Wait a minute, you went to all this trouble for the signboard just to attract the emperor’s attention, didn’t you?”

Charles Sullivan’s brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t hide it and replied bluntly, “That’s right.”

Brian Carter continued, “The emperor wants to commemorate the crown prince, so he’ll naturally visit the restaurant. That’s why you want to buy this place in advance, to use your own skills to prepare a fine banquet. If you can win His Majesty’s praise, then your The Sullivan Family will rise to great heights. I suppose what you’re after is the position of imperial chef, am I right?”

Charles Sullivan had originally come to threaten him. In his mind, Brian Carter was just a young, naive bookworm, and forcing him to give in would be easy. But Brian Carter’s response surprised him.

Brian Carter’s smile grew colder. “But I see you’re well past seventy, so you’re probably not planning for yourself. The one who’ll shine before the emperor is likely your son, isn’t it? In fact, your The Sullivan Family has been plotting this for a long time. If I keep reasoning, these past two years, Ruchun Restaurant’s business has plummeted, partly due to my poor management, but I bet your The Sullivan Family has been working behind the scenes as well. For example, your The Sullivan Family opened a new restaurant just across the street, with much cheaper prices. For example, in the past, my father brought in several apprentices, but after he died, they all quit. For example, you secretly allowed Ruchun Restaurant to rack up debts, which were eventually all transferred to your name. Isn’t that so?”

Charles Sullivan stroked his beard and smiled faintly, “You’re not just a bookworm after all. I underestimated you. But now that things have come to this, even if you see through the truth, so what? This restaurant will end up in my hands sooner or later. Now, as I said, I’m giving you a choice: either you take a sum of silver—whether you squander it or use it to settle down is up to you—but the restaurant and the signboard must stay. Or, starting tomorrow, I’ll make sure you can’t set foot in Luoyang. Not only will you be ruined and disgraced, but you’ll also end up in court and be exiled as a slave. The choice is yours.”

A threat—a blatant threat.