After dinner, Qin Feng gently placed the already-sleeping Nannan into the car. 

Xu Fei glanced at him and asked, “Do you want me to give you a ride?”

“No need,” Qin Feng replied, then added with a serious tone, “I just want to remind you, we’re still husband and wife. There are certain things you should be mindful of.”

When Qin Feng saw Wang Qiang earlier, an inexplicable surge of anger had bubbled up inside him.

“Oh, now you know how to talk about these things? Where were you before? If it weren’t for Nannan, we’d already be divorced by now,” Xu Fei snapped, her frustration bubbling over before getting into her car and driving away.

Qin Feng let out a long sigh as he watched her leave. He thought to himself how much of a failure the “Qin Feng” before him had been as a husband. Winning Xu Fei back clearly wasn’t going to be easy.

“Ptui!”

At that moment, Wang Qiang strolled up, spat on the ground near Qin Feng’s feet—just missing his shoes—and sneered.

Qin Feng had restrained his temper earlier for Nannan’s sake, but now Wang Qiang’s arrogance lit a fire in him. Glaring at him, Qin Feng said coldly, “Wang, stay away from my wife. She’s still married.”

“Hah! You’re joking, right? You and Feifei are just pretending to get along. Divorce is only a matter of time. She’ll be my woman sooner or later. You? You’re no competition.”

Wang Qiang smirked, his words dripping with smugness, before walking away triumphantly. After all, he had been chasing Xu Fei for ages and thought success was just around the corner.

Qin Feng watched Wang Qiang’s self-satisfied expression, took a deep breath, and smirked to himself. ‘Heh, you’re up against a world-class chef now. Dealing with you will be a breeze.’

Returning home, Qin Feng turned in early, knowing he had a busy day ahead.

—

The next morning, Qin Feng was up bright and early, heading to the market to buy ingredients. Today, he planned to prepare Boiling Vegetable Soup—a deceptively simple yet elegant soup dish with a rich history. As a signature item in state banquets and a representative of non-spicy Sichuan cuisine, it was the epitome of refined cooking.

At the market, Qin Feng wandered over to the poultry section and addressed the vendor, “Do you have any old hens or ducks?”

“Young man, these are all authentic!” The vendor gestured proudly to the cages filled with chickens and ducks.

“Come on, don’t kid me. These chickens are at least four or five pounds each—they can’t possibly be old hens. Authenticity aside, they don’t even meet the ‘old’ requirement. None of these chickens have been raised for more than a year,” Qin Feng chuckled. 

He wasn’t easy to fool. As a world-class chef, failing to identify a proper old hen would be a disgrace to his skills.

“These are old hens, I swear!” The vendor protested.

Still smiling, Qin Feng explained, “Identifying an old hen is actually pretty simple. They need to be at least a year old. An old hen’s legs will have an extra spur-like growth. And as for authenticity? True old hens are usually free-range, so they rarely weigh more than three kilograms.”

Realizing he couldn’t bluff his way through, the vendor sighed and gestured for Qin Feng to follow him. “Fine, fine. I see you know your stuff. Come with me—I’ll show you the real ones.”

With that, Qin Feng successfully bought both an old hen and an old duck. He also picked up ham, pork ribs, dried scallops, and other premium ingredients essential for Boiling Vegetable Soup.

—

Back at his shop, Qin Feng began preparing the dish. The essence of Boiling Vegetable Soup lay in its “clear broth,” which was the soul of the dish. He skillfully processed the ingredients, then placed them into a large metal pot to simmer.

—

By 5 p.m., Shen Yuanshan was getting dressed to head to Qin Feng’s shop to taste the soup.

“Grandpa, your palate is notoriously picky. Even dishes from chefs with ‘Chef King’ credentials only barely satisfy you. Are you really going to give away those twenty-thousand-yuan knives if you’re impressed by this guy? He’s so young—how good can his cooking really be?” Shen Yan asked, visibly perplexed by her grandfather’s sudden whim.

“My life’s greatest joy is tasting good food. If this soup truly satisfies me, then those knives are worth it,” Shen Yuanshan chuckled, stroking his beard.

—

Meanwhile, Qiao Lu and Xiao Wen were eagerly discussing what dish Qin Feng might prepare, already impatient to head over.

“Ahhh, why isn’t the workday over yet? This is driving me crazy!” Qiao Lu lamented, glancing at the clock like an ant on a hot pan.

A girl approached them with a ticket in hand, saying, “Hey, there’s a concert tonight featuring your favorite group. Want to go together?”

“No thanks!” Xiao Wen waved her off without hesitation. “We already have plans tonight. You enjoy yourself!”

“Wait, what? You two are obsessed with that group. Why aren’t you interested all of a sudden?” The girl looked baffled.

“Don’t worry about us—go have fun!” Qiao Lu replied hastily. The moment the clock hit five, she grabbed Xiao Wen and dashed out.

—

Soon, the pair arrived at Qin Feng’s shop. They saw him casually scrolling on his phone and hurried over to greet him.

“Boss, we’re here!” they chimed in unison.

Qin Feng smiled. “Take a seat and wait a bit. I’ll serve the food once everyone’s here.”

They obediently sat down, brimming with anticipation.

—

Elsewhere, Shen Yan helped Shen Yuanshan out of the car and led him to the narrow alley where the shop was located.

“This restaurant is way too hidden! Without the sign, no one would even know there’s a shop here,” Shen Yan remarked.

“True, but we’re already here. Let’s take a look,” Shen Yuanshan replied, stepping inside.

Qin Feng immediately came out to greet them. “Old Master Shen, welcome to my humble shop.”

“Ah, yes. It truly is humble. So, tell me, what’s the story behind the name ‘A Spoonful Moment’?” Shen Yuanshan asked curiously, glancing around at the modest establishment.

“Life’s many flavors lie in the heart; a dish’s myriad flavors lie in a single spoon. That’s the inspiration behind the name,” Qin Feng explained as he guided them to their seats.

“Well said! No matter how exquisite the dish, it all starts with the chef’s spoon and knife. Interesting,” Shen Yuanshan remarked with a nod of approval.

As he settled in, he noted the shop’s small size but was impressed by its refined and comfortable decor—not something you’d find in just any eatery.

“I see your sign says you only open for an hour each day. Doesn’t that severely limit your business?” Shen Yan asked, glancing at the chalkboard menu.

“Good food is about quality, not quantity. Creating a truly exceptional dish takes time—it’s not just throwing together a few quick stir-fries,” Qin Feng replied, heading into the kitchen.

Moments later, he emerged with four bowls of soup, carefully placing one in front of each guest.