In 1995, Wu Fan, a discharged soldier, had been working at Chuxiang Garden for just three months when his gambling-addict boss lost everything he owned. He signed over the restaurant and its delicate, charming proprietress, Xu Xiaohong, to Wu Fan, then fled overnight. He left behind a mountain of loan-shark debt, a tiny restaurant with just thirteen tables, and a tearful, penniless beauty who owned it.
When the creditors came knocking, the proprietress trembled with fear. “Brother Fan, don’t go. I’m scared...”
