Ian Lawson is someone with an extremely refined taste for life; he believes that enjoying good food is one of life’s greatest purposes. The reason people live and work hard is to eat better, so as not to let down a wonderful life. This philosophy was passed down from Ian Lawson’s grandfather—back then, his grandfather often said: the important thing in life is the process; you can’t say you’re happy every day, but at least don’t make things hard for yourself. For example: never shortchange yourself at any meal.

Ian Lawson’s father was deeply influenced by his grandfather, but at that time, ordinary people seeking nutrition was considered a crime, a petty bourgeois or landlord habit. To eat happily without being criticized, Ian Lawson’s father sought out teachers everywhere and secretly learned to cook. Under the rationing system, he used meager ingredients to create delicious dishes, making every meal satisfying for his wife and son—this was his proudest achievement in life.

Having been immersed in this environment for so long, Ian Lawson accumulated a wealth of theoretical knowledge and a discerning palate. During his four years at university, he found the cafeteria food unbearable. Fortunately, he worked part-time outside, so he had the means and time to treat himself every weekend. With theory and practice combined, his cooking skills improved rapidly, and now was the perfect time to show them off.

That evening, Carolyn Turner unusually didn’t have a dinner engagement outside. Wanting to show off, she also called her good friend Autumn Lewis to come over together.

“Hey, my live-in boyfriend, what delicious food have you made? My friend’s here, so don’t embarrass me.”

As soon as she walked in, Carolyn Turner kicked off her high heels. She turned sideways to welcome her friend in, calling out, “Grab your own slippers. Hmm, wooden floors—actually, it’s more comfortable barefoot.” With that, she demonstrated by walking barefoot ahead into the living room, cheerfully greeting Ian Lawson, who was deep in thought on the sofa.

Ian Lawson had already finished cooking and was now sitting absentmindedly on the sofa, full of worries. The TV was on, but he stared at the screen without seeing or hearing anything. He heard Carolyn Turner calling, but dissatisfied with the way she addressed him, he continued to zone out, staring blankly at the TV.

Ian Lawson’s indifference made Carolyn Turner feel awkward in front of her friend. Half playfully, half annoyed, she reached out and tapped Ian Lawson, about to act coy, when she suddenly caught a strong aroma. Starving, she couldn’t help but follow the scent into the dining room, where the sumptuous dishes on the table immediately won her over.

“Hehe, who would’ve thought my little man could make a whole table of dishes? Ah… I don’t know about the taste yet, but the colors are really well matched—no wonder he deals in antiques, the whole table looks like a work of art!” Carolyn Turner grabbed a pair of chopsticks, tasted the steamed perch, took a few bites of stir-fried yellow chives with vegetarian tripe, then peeled a braised prawn, and immediately started praising him nonstop.

“Not bad, not bad! Come on, Qiuhui, grab a chair, get some chopsticks, open the red wine, let’s have a candlelight dinner.” Carolyn Turner boasted proudly, “What luck! Look at my taste—just a casual pick and I brought home a treasure.”

Carolyn Turner had a pair of big, watery eyes—in Ian Lawson’s words: her eyes were so big, her whole face was just two eyeballs moving around. With sharply defined cheekbones and a height of about 170 centimeters, she was the very image of a Latin type, and her personality was just as passionate and energetic.

Autumn Lewis had the typical features of an East Asian woman: single eyelids, glasses perched on her nose, and delicate, refined features. When she wasn’t speaking, her beauty exuded a sense of restraint and gentleness. She was only a year younger than Carolyn Turner, but had spent just as much time working in foreign companies. This year, she was headhunted by a domestic private company to serve as their Chief Financial Officer.

However, people say that appearance reflects the heart, but this theory doesn’t apply to Autumn Lewis. Instead, another saying fits: birds of a feather flock together. Autumn Lewis and Carolyn Turner were basically the same type of person. They were smart, capable, beautiful, and wealthy, so their standards for men always seemed a bit condescending. With good education, outstanding work ability, high social status, and financial strength, their dependence on men was almost zero. As a result, they were more independent in their romantic choices—and, of course, more picky. Over time, men with “talent (or wealth)” couldn’t handle them, and those without “talent (or wealth)” didn’t interest them. Because of this, they developed a kind of resentment and disdain toward men. If such “resentful women” got together, they would become even more flamboyant.

Most of the dishes Ian Lawson made were simple home-style fare, but the cooking was just right. The biggest feature of the dishes was their tenderness and freshness; each dish’s flavor was distinct, and the spices were only used to enhance the taste. The fresh vegetables cooked this way were a world apart from the uniform “MSG flavor” of restaurant food. The two women competed to try every dish. After sampling them all, Autumn Lewis raised her wine glass and said with feeling, “To think such simple ingredients can taste this good—now I realize all the food I’ve eaten in restaurants before was pig slop. Sister Cailing, would you be willing to let me have your little man?”

Carolyn Turner, having had a bit to drink, her eyes even more alluring, heard Autumn Lewis’s suggestion and said with mock anger, “Go on! How did I end up with a friend like you? Trying to steal my man—are you looking for trouble?”