"Um... 2 grams of salt, 50 milliliters of oyster sauce, 100 milliliters of soy sauce, 1 gram of sugar..."
Inside the chairman's office, Chen Qin, wearing an apron, was diligently following a recipe on her phone.
In front of her was a frying pan heating up on an induction stove.
"Alright, that should be about right." Chen Qin mixed the sauce and poured it in, only to be startled by a loud sizzle that made her jump back.
She peeked into the pan, decided it looked done, and then lifted it to plate her creation.
"The presentation isn’t great," Chen Qin muttered, eyeing the charred, unappetizing mess in front of her before turning to her assistant. "Here, try some."
The assistant felt her vision darken. "Boss Chen, I’ve already eaten so much today..."
"It’s fine, young people have strong stomachs. Come on, have a bite," Chen Qin said with a smile. "Give me your honest review."
Seeing no escape, the assistant reluctantly stepped forward.
After one mouthful, Chen Qin eagerly asked, "Well? Have I improved?"
The assistant: "..."
"Why so quiet? How does it taste?"
The assistant swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to gag before forcing out, "Uh... it’s... not bad? Just... wow. Yeah, wow."
"Wow?"
"Yeah. Wow." The assistant took a deep breath.
Today, for some inexplicable reason, Chen Qin had hauled in a large table and a bunch of kitchenware, insisting on practicing her cooking right there in the office. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem—after all, the entire building was hers, and she could do whatever she pleased. But did she have to torment just one poor employee?
Chen Qin crossed her arms, smugly thinking, Cooking really isn’t that hard. I just never bothered to learn before.
Wait, was that fine salt or sugar again?
"Alright, let’s try another dish!" Just as Chen Qin was gearing up for round two, her assistant hesitantly spoke up.
"Boss Chen..."
"Hmm?"
"Why the sudden interest in cooking today?"
The real reason? Ye Shuang had once teased her about not knowing how to cook, and Chen Qin had seized this free moment to prove him wrong—to show him just how much she could improve in a short time.
Of course, she wasn’t about to admit that. Instead, she said loftily, "The essence of life lies in continuous learning. I don’t know how to cook, so I’m taking the time to master a new skill. The same goes for business—only by constantly learning can we stay ahead of the market."
The assistant nodded slowly. "I see."
(She still didn’t quite grasp how cooking and business were related, but whatever.)
Trying to save herself, the assistant suggested, "Boss Chen, wouldn’t it be faster to learn from a professional cooking instructor?"
"I have some free time today, but not enough to go running around outside," Chen Qin replied.
If she had more time, she’d be with Ye Shuang instead of stuck in this office.
Why waste precious minutes commuting?
"Boss Chen, our company actually has a kitchen area and a cafeteria. The chefs there could help you learn," the assistant said. "Plus, you could cook for more employees. Wouldn’t that be nice?"
"Good point." Chen Qin considered it and had the assistant make arrangements.
Soon, word spread that the CEO herself was cooking in the company kitchen. Given that it was lunch break, a crowd quickly gathered.
"Wait, our boss can cook? Seriously?"
"Apparently! I heard she’s amazing at it. Wonder who’ll get to enjoy her meals in the future."
"Let’s go see for ourselves!"
By the time Chen Qin arrived at the kitchen, a small audience had formed. She eyed the massive woks and industrial-grade stoves—suddenly regretting her decision.
"These are... way too big, aren’t they?" Chen Qin doubted she could even lift one, let alone toss ingredients like the chefs did.
"Boss Chen, our kitchen setup is very different from a home kitchen. It gets extremely hot—please stand back a bit," one chef advised while stir-frying.
"If you’d like to cook, we have an induction stove over there too."
Chen Qin moved to the induction stove, where ingredients and seasonings were already prepped—far better equipped than her office setup.
Ahem. Feeling the weight of dozens of eyes on her, Chen Qin cleared her throat and tossed a bell pepper into the heated pan.
The employees exchanged glances.
"Did she forget to add oil?"
"Maybe it’s that Hunan-style smashed pepper dish? Some recipes skip oil and char the peppers directly."
"But she’s using sweet bell peppers. Would that even work?"
"Uh... maybe it’s for a milder flavor?"
A burnt smell snapped Chen Qin back to reality. Oh right, oil!
"Does the order really matter?"
She hastily drizzled in some oil and gave it a stir.
Next, she added sliced pork belly.
"Wait, is this pepper and pork stir-fry?"
"Shouldn’t the pork go in first?"
"Shhh."
Soon, it was time for seasoning. Without her trusty kitchen scale, Chen Qin eyeballed the measurements—and since the kitchen had every spice imaginable, she decided to get creative and toss in a bit of everything.
"Done!" Satisfied, Chen Qin plated her dish.
The employees took one look at the... thing on the plate and collectively realized:
Oh no.
The rumors were very wrong.
"Who wants to try some?" Chen Qin beamed.
Silence.
Not a single volunteer.
"I’d taste it myself, but my stomach’s been acting up lately," Chen Qin said, scanning the crowd before zeroing in on two unlucky souls.
"You two. Come here."
The chosen employees exchanged a glance, instantly regretting their front-row seats.
With the solemnity of warriors marching to their doom, they stepped forward, chopsticks trembling as they picked up a piece of the least-burnt pepper.
One chewed—or rather, didn’t—before forcing it down with a strained thumbs-up.
"It’s... delicious!"
"Great!" Chen Qin turned to her assistant. "Bring him some rice. Let him enjoy more."