Gao Qinyuan was a Beijing native, having grown up in the capital, so her home was naturally here as well.
In recent years, Beijing’s real estate prices had skyrocketed to astronomical levels. Even many mid-tier celebrities could barely afford a modest apartment in the city—let alone one in an upscale neighborhood.
But Gao Qinyuan had an eye for investments. Having purchased her property early, she’d long since resolved the housing dilemma. Though her acting career kept her traveling nationwide, she didn’t live with her parents, leaving her home mostly vacant. With no elders around, hosting Jiang Fei and the others posed no inconvenience.
That said, she couldn’t reconcile how a young genius—both a top-tier physician and a master pianist—could also be an exceptional chef.
Despite her skepticism, the eager expressions on Lin Moli and Qiao Yiyi’s faces stifled any objections. She agreed, albeit hesitantly, to the home-cooked dinner plan.
Jiang Fei, of course, had no complaints. Cooking for three beauties was hardly a chore.
Since Gao Qinyuan rarely stayed home—even during her current break—she either ordered takeout or dined out. At most, she prepared simple meals or noodles, so her kitchen was barren. A grocery run became mandatory.
Both Lin Moli and Qiao Yiyi had gone too long without Jiang Fei’s cooking. Even the usually disciplined Qiao Yiyi couldn’t resist listing a parade of dishes, ready to indulge.
Poultry, fish, meats, vegetables—Jiang Fei’s arms were soon laden with bags, the women carrying their share too. After adding a premium bottle of red wine to their haul, the quartet returned to Gao Qinyuan’s apartment complex.
Leading the way, Gao Qinyuan unlocked her door while bending down to swap shoes. “Please, come in. I live alone, so the place is a bit… lived-in. Don’t judge,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh.
Jiang Fei, right behind her, quipped, “No worries. I’ve built up immunity to the chaos of single women’s homes—”
His words died abruptly.
There, draped casually over the nearby sofa, lay a scattered lace lingerie set—black, delicate, and decidedly risqué.
Gao Qinyuan blinked at his sudden silence before following his gaze. A flush exploded across her cheeks. With a startled “Ah!” she lunged to scoop up the garments and bolted into her bedroom.
Jiang Fei bit back a laugh. Who’d have thought the demure ‘National Goddess’ had such spicy taste in underwear? Then again, a woman in her thirties—even one preserved like a twenty-something—would naturally favor something bolder…
Qiao Yiyi and Lin Moli entered, chatting animatedly, only to see Gao Qinyuan’s fleeing figure. “What’s with Yuanjie?” Qiao Yiyi asked.
Jiang Fei cleared his throat. “Probably forgot to turn off the gas.”
Twin eye-rolls answered him. “Ridiculous!”
Once inside, Lin Moli and Qiao Yiyi wisely avoided the kitchen—past experience in Daocun Village had taught them their ‘help’ only caused chaos. Instead, they toured the apartment.
Spacious at 140+ square meters, the three-bedroom unit boasted a timeless, minimalist aesthetic despite its decade-old renovations—proof of Gao Qinyuan’s sharp eye for design.
Jiang Fei, uninterested in decor, beelined for the kitchen. Soon, the clatter of pots and sizzle of oil filled the air as he worked.
An hour later, dusk had fallen. The trio’s initial energy had withered under the torture of mounting aromas. When Jiang Fei finally announced, “Dinner’s ready—set the table!” they sprang into action like starved prisoners, one arranging utensils while the others ferried dishes.
(Had any been alone with Jiang Fei, dignity might’ve crumbled sooner.)
Jiang Fei presented each course like a sommelier:
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“Beauty Trotters in Sour Soup—collagen-rich for glowing skin.”
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“Tan Family Handmade Tofu—a delicate, savory rarity.”
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“Stir-Fried Clam Meat—crowned ‘King of Freshness,’ a flavor explosion.”
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“Lion’s Head Meatballs—succulent pork with crab roe, best eaten with a spoon. One bite, and the fragrance lingers for hours.”
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“Hangzhou Braised Duck—for whoever craved Peking duck earlier. Let’s see how this compares.”
The women—starved by now—abandoned decorum. Chopsticks flew as actress, singer, and CEO alike surrendered to the feast.
It was then Gao Qinyuan understood Qiao Yiyi’s “Culinary Grandmaster” title.
This was transcendent.
She’d sampled delicacies across China during filming, yet none matched Jiang Fei’s versions—even of regional signature dishes.
By meal’s end, the spread lay decimated. They uncorked the $200+ wine—nowhere near Jiang Fei’s own brews, but passable—and drained it between the four of them.
When Jiang Fei and Lin Moli prepared to leave, reality struck: neither could drive after drinking.
Qiao Yiyi, close with Gao Qinyuan, opted to stay overnight. As Lin Moli began summoning her assistant Xu Yue to chauffeur, Gao Qinyuan interjected:
“Why not both stay? I’ve two spare rooms with fresh linens. This place… it’s never been so lively.”
Lin Moli glanced at Jiang Fei for input.
He rubbed his nose. Inviting a near-stranger to sleep over? Bold move.
Under one roof with three stunning women… Jiang Fei wasn’t sure he trusted himself to behave.
