Chapter Eighty-Two: An Feng Family Banquet (II)

After briefly boiling the chicken, the broth bubbled fiercely, yielding tender, silky meat that was still piping hot. The young uncle gave special attention to Mo Lan, personally placing chicken into her bowl. An Feng also picked out dishes for Mo Lan, so she simply sat back and enjoyed this delightful treatment.

Yet this kindness made Mo Lan feel restless, glancing frequently at those present. It was all too awkward; there really was no need to single her out. Although she was the leading lady of tonight’s gathering, the spotlight felt particularly uncomfortable.

Qian Yin sat quietly nearby, making no move to stand. The pot was large enough to hold plenty of food, but it was a bit difficult to handle, and the boiling heat made her hesitant to get too close.

Without a word, Leng Xue took up chopsticks and a spoon, fetched Qian Yin’s bowl, and helped her fill it with generous portions of meat. Qian Yin only smiled and accepted the food, beginning to eat. Now that she had Leng Xue as her boyfriend, there were many things she no longer had to do herself—a happiness she relished.

Meanwhile, Mo Fan ate his meal in solitude, surrounded by couples, feeling utterly dejected and beginning to regret attending. Even Boss Jin, flanked by two bodyguards, had dishes selected for him by his companions. Only Mo Fan had to rise and serve himself; the feeling was truly disheartening.

Despite this, the atmosphere remained warm and lively. After eating a little, the young uncle disappeared into the refrigerator, returning with an armful of bottles.

Everyone continued adding their favorite ingredients to the pot. The taste was indeed exquisite.

“Your cooking is truly exceptional, Uncle,” Mo Lan couldn’t help but praise.

Qian Yin nodded in agreement. There was no need for additional condiments—the broth was rich enough to infuse all the meats with flavor, and the taste suited everyone at the table. Even someone as passionate about food and cooking as Qian Yin wouldn’t dare claim her own dishes could appeal to every palate.

“As long as you all enjoy it,” Uncle replied. “Come, let’s have a drink. Stay the night—there are plenty of rooms here, no need to return home.” He spoke with hearty hospitality as he set several unfamiliar, but seemingly expensive, bottles on the table.

Boss Jin glanced at the selection and recognized it as top-quality. He signaled to his bodyguards, who promptly fetched glasses and poured him a drink.

“I’d like some too, Boss Jin,” Mo Fan seized the opportunity, holding out his glass. The bodyguard graciously poured him a drink as well.

Boss Jin, feeling a kinship with the similarly single Mo Fan, clinked his glass with him, and they both downed their drinks in one gulp.

Qian Yin and Mo Lan exchanged a look—they were adamant about not drinking any more. If they got drunk and argued again, who knew what might happen.

Leng Xue intervened, telling Uncle, “Qian Yin shouldn’t drink—alcohol makes her unwell, so I hope you’ll understand.”

An Feng chimed in, “Girls shouldn’t drink too much, and Mo Lan can’t either. Honestly, none of us should drink too much—when you’re drunk, you never know what you might say.”

“Very well,” Uncle replied. “But this is just fruit wine I made myself—anyone can drink it, it won’t get you drunk. Since you’re all refusing, I’ll put it away and save it for another occasion.”

An Feng, not realizing it was fruit wine, quickly stopped him with a smile, “Let’s at least have a little, otherwise your thoughtful gesture will go to waste.”

Uncle nodded and set a bottle before everyone, then sat down again, smiling at the lively gathering. It had been so long since their home had seen so many guests and such a festive atmosphere.

Everyone was content—the hot pot was delicious, the fruit wine delightful, and the warmth of the evening palpable.

Only Mo Fan and Boss Jin seemed isolated, drinking fruit wine together at the edge of the table. As the night went on, they sat closer and closer, quietly fishing out meat and vegetables, looking rather pitiful.

Uncle remained unfazed, his gaze frequently drifting to Mo Lan, occasionally adding more food to her bowl. Mo Lan, less reserved now, accepted his attentions with a smile.

An Feng was astonished—how could someone as charming as Uncle not have a girlfriend? How could there not be an Aunt in his life? None of it seemed real—he couldn’t believe it.

Qian Yin basked in the care she received; Leng Xue kept adding food to her bowl faster than she could eat it. He knew her preferences by now, so every selection was something she loved. She could only keep eating—after all, it wouldn’t do to waste his thoughtful choices.

The hot pot meal stretched on for one or two hours, until all were satisfied and the table was left in a mess.

Uncle was the first to stand, tidying up on his own, but the others, too full to ignore their conscience, eventually rolled up their sleeves and joined him in the kitchen.

Mo Lan and Qian Yin wanted to help, but Uncle insisted they stay put.

“You two sit back and rest—leave these chores to us,” he said, carrying dishes into the kitchen. Leng Xue and An Feng nodded in agreement, following with more dishes.

Boss Jin and Mo Fan remained slumped in their seats, too full and tipsy to move. Their bodyguards, still clear-headed, helped them to armchairs to sleep it off, and then sat nearby to keep watch, planning to spend the night there.

Once the three men had finished cleaning, they returned to find the two young women dozing at the table and the four men asleep in armchairs.

With a helpless sigh, An Feng and Leng Xue gently carried Mo Lan and Qian Yin to the bedroom Mo Lan had used before—since they were drunk, it was best not to separate them.

Uncle woke the two bodyguards and said quietly, “Come with me, let’s get them to the guest rooms.”

The bodyguards, light sleepers, woke immediately and each supported one of their charges, following Uncle to two other guest rooms.

Once everyone was settled, Leng Xue and An Feng returned to their own rooms, while Uncle checked each room to be sure, then retired himself.

That night, everyone sleeping in An Feng’s house slept deeply and peacefully.

Elsewhere, the boss, seeing no patrols in recent days, began building their base from stone and mud. Everyone was conscripted for the heavy labor; the sharp stones drew blood from their hands, but no one complained.

Han and the Flower Thief merely watched, unwilling to take part in such backbreaking work.

The others had no objections and toiled diligently. In just a day or two, the foundation was laid, and construction continued feverishly, even through the night without proper rest.

The boss was absent from the base, currently in Lindu, discussing future plans with a few other bosses. Management of the site was entrusted entirely to Han.