Thirty-two years old, a little plump, with a junior college diploma. Divorced, with a child.
Fang Nanxing thought her life was set. She was the only female head chef at one of Shanghai’s top hotels, spending every day falling in love with her pots and pans, then riding her electric scooter home after work to eat her mother’s cured pork and bamboo shoot soup.
Then one day, the hotel’s mysterious owner showed up for an inspection.
Jiang Yu’an, the only son of the Jiang Group, was six-foot-two and ridiculously handsome. One look from him could silence the entire board. He sat at Table Eight, asked to see the head chef, then pushed the Longjing shrimp she’d made toward her and said, “Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to see you.”
Fang Nanxing: “What’s wrong with him?”
Later, he cornered her in a fitting room and kissed her passionately, whining, “You’ve left me on read for thirteen days.”
Fang Nanxing: “...You’ve been counting the days?”
“I’ve been counting the hours.”
And to make things worse, the wealthy first love she’d dumped six years ago came back, bringing their daughter with him and declaring that he wanted to win her back.
Two heirs to powerful families, each more handsome and more difficult than the other.
All Fang Nanxing wanted was to ride her sputtering electric scooter back to the kitchen and cook.
One heroine, two ridiculously handsome men, each crazier and clingier than the other.
But this isn’t a Mary Sue story.
It’s the story of a woman who makes her own way in the city with nothing but her craft and a heart that refuses to bow to hardship, until two equally exceptional men see her, respect her, and fall madly in love with her.
Fang Nanxing isn’t beautiful. She isn’t young. She has no System or golden finger. She hasn’t been reborn for a second chance.
She believes that when you bloom, the gentle breeze will find you.
