“So that’s how it is. Let’s eat, then.” Uncle Kun didn’t dwell on it. There was no point in forcing the issue—that would mean losing not just the game, but his dignity as well.
Bai Ji, however, felt it was a pity. If Yu Xiaoduo could work under Uncle Kun, he’d be able to help Wan’er quite a bit down the road. As an ordinary person, he wouldn’t be of much use to her at all.
Just then, ten maids walked out from a side corridor, each carrying a golden platter. Their steps were perfectly uniform, and they were even the exact same height.
The sense of ceremony was off the charts. If they were dressed in imperial palace attire, it would feel like they were serving an emperor.
But Yu Xiaoduo was thinking—if they were all in maid outfits instead, the visual effect would be absolutely spectacular. Too bad Uncle Kun didn’t get it.
Eight dishes were placed on the table one by one. The plating, the colors, the craftsmanship—Yu Xiaoduo could tell the chef here was no joke.
Suddenly, Uncle Kun asked, “Before we eat, how about someone tells us about these dishes? And my dear niece, you’re not allowed to answer.”
Bai Ji smiled knowingly. Uncle Kun still loved his little traditions.
The three of them looked at the dishes in front of them, frowning slightly. Yu Xiaoduo wasn’t sure what the catch was either. You ask me to talk about antiques, and I can ramble on a bit. But food—what’s the hidden meaning here?
“You there, the Ye family girl. You go first.”
Ye Shishi inwardly groaned. Why am I always the unlucky one? Why can’t you ask Gu Wan’er first?
“Uh… these meatballs have a nice glossy sheen… and this chicken looks like it has good texture…”
Yu Xiaoduo nearly burst out laughing. Ye Shishi, you’ve got some guts, saying that out loud. If you’re gonna bluff, at least use some fancy-sounding words—then maybe people would think you’re impressive.
After Ye Shishi finished, Uncle Kun chuckled and said, “Looks like you’re pretty hungry.”
Ye Shishi: “…” How humiliating.
Even Bai Ji couldn’t help the corners of her mouth twitching upward. This is what happens when you slack off instead of studying.
Uncle Kun shifted his gaze to Gu Wan’er. Yu Xiaoduo had already prepared a whole arsenal of words—even if he didn’t really know anything, he could still talk circles around them.
But when Uncle Kun saw how composed Gu Wan’er looked, he immediately turned his attention to Yu Xiaoduo instead. You were so good at chess just now—surely there’s something you don’t know.
“Young man, you tell me.”
Yu Xiaoduo thought, Uh-oh. This Uncle Kun is still salty about losing. What a sore loser.
However, Gu Wan’er was the one who was truly confident. She smiled slightly and said, “Incorporating numbers into dishes is a cultural tradition, rich in folklore and literary meaning. And these dishes actually correspond to them.”
“One-Pot Stew, Erguotou liquor, Three-Fresh Vegetables, Four-Joy Meatballs, Five-Willow Fish, Six-Shell Steamed Chicken, Seven-Star Crab, Eight-Treasure Duck, Nine-Turn Intestines, and Ten-Color Tofu. May everyone here have all their wishes come true—complete and perfect in every way.” With that, Gu Wan’er sat down with a confident smile, as if the question had been far too easy.
Yu Xiaoduo stared at her in amazement. Wow, comrade. I didn’t see that at all, and you figured it out?
Sensing his surprised look, Gu Wan’er felt like showing off—if there weren’t other people around, she’d definitely have rubbed it in. This is nothing. I’ve got plenty more skills I haven’t shown yet, buddy.
Ye Shishi instantly felt utterly mortified. This Yu Xiaoduo actually explained everything so eloquently. Pan Wei had said he was just as useless as she was—so how come he suddenly seemed so knowledgeable?
Not only was she losing to Gu Wan’er, but now she was getting crushed by Yu Xiaoduo too. It was infuriating.
Even Bai Ji was starting to see Yu Xiaoduo in a new light. Had she really misjudged him? Or was this just a lucky guess?
“Young man, you’re certainly interesting.” Uncle Kun finally broke into a smile.
“You flatter me, Uncle Kun. I was just guessing wildly.” Gu Wan’er was modest about it, not wanting to steal too much of Yu Xiaoduo’s thunder—after all, he was the one she was representing.
Uncle Kun clapped his hands with a smile, and four middle-aged men walked out from the side, dressed in tailcoats.
They weren’t there to eat. Instead, they headed to a corner of the living room where musical instruments were set up.
Two played violins, and two played cellos. One of them counted down with hand gestures, and soon, melodious music filled the dining room.
Yu Xiaoduo thought to himself, It’s not just the ceremony that’s over-the-top—even classical music is part of the meal. Uncle Kun really knows how to live.
But both Yu Xiaoduo and Ye Shishi were secretly nervous. Uncle Kun wouldn’t ask us to name the song, would he? We only know club bangers and “check it out”—we don’t know a thing about classical music.
Uncle Kun closed his eyes, savoring the music for a moment, then smiled and said, “Go ahead, dig in.”
Yu Xiaoduo and Ye Shishi both breathed a sigh of relief. Thank heavens—no more questions.
But just as they thought that, Uncle Kun paused. “Does anyone know what piece this is? My dear niece, you’re excluded again.”
As soon as he said that, Yu Xiaoduo and Ye Shishi were cursing him in their heads. Can’t we just eat in peace? Why do you have to keep throwing these curveballs? Is it because we’re young and easy to pick on?
Bai Ji gave a helpless, wry smile. Uncle Kun, don’t torture the young ones. Just look at how stressed Shi Shi is.
Yu Xiaoduo was racking his brain too. What’s the name of this piece? I’ve definitely heard it before, but I just can’t put a name to it.
Ye Shishi was thinking the exact same thing—she’d heard it somewhere but had no idea what it was called.
Then Gu Wan’er spoke up: “This classic violin piece is called Nearer My God to Thee. Originally, it was a hymn, first sung in a church in Finsbury in 1840, and later set to music to become the classic we know today.”
“When the Titanic sank in the movie released in ’97, this very piece was also played on the deck.”
As soon as Yu Xiaoduo and Ye Shishi heard that, it all clicked. Oh, so that’s where we heard it—from the movie. But we never knew the name.
Bai Ji nodded silently. Wan’er’s boyfriend really does have some depth. He’s quite knowledgeable about classical music too.
Uncle Kun was getting more curious by the minute. This Yu Xiaoduo seemed to know a little bit about everything, and it was starting to annoy him.
No way. I’ve got to put him in his place today.
“Then you should also know that on that very deck, they played another piece as well, right?” Uncle Kun asked casually.
Gu Wan’er gave a small hum of acknowledgment. “The other one is called Orpheus in the Underworld, translated as The Overture to Heaven and Hell. Its original name is Orpheus in the Underworld Overture, composed by the French composer Jacques Offenbach in 1858.”
“The piece is steeped in Greek mythology. Orpheus was a famous poet and singer whose voice could tame wild beasts. He went to the underworld to find his deceased wife, singing all the way, and moved Hades and Persephone so much that they agreed to let his wife return to the living. But just as Orpheus was about to reach the surface, he forgot Hades’s warning and looked back at his wife, causing her to be pulled back into the underworld forever. Overcome with grief, he swore never to marry again.”
Everyone listened to Gu Wan’er’s explanation with varying expressions. Uncle Kun was baffled—since when did ordinary young men know all this stuff?
Ye Shishi was convinced Pan Wei had lied to her. This guy doesn’t look like an uneducated slacker at all.
Yu Xiaoduo’s jaw nearly dropped. You had all this knowledge and never told me? I’ve been worried sick for nothing!
