With a celebrity like Debbie, the promotion of a documentary naturally attracted countless of her fans to watch.

The sudden surge in popularity on external platforms startled Jia Bingyang.

The success of Mingde’s funding had not yet been made public, so he naturally didn’t know about Debbie’s relationship with Jin Yaotiao.

He was inevitably shocked that an international superstar would actively promote her own documentary.

In fact, he hadn’t planned on promoting anything overseas.

He wasn’t like Lin Miao, who had international resources from the entire Beijing TV, and he didn’t have that kind of capital.

This film was made for his country’s audience, and he didn’t feel the need to flatter anyone.

The reason it was released on overseas platforms was merely to let the compatriots living abroad enjoy a taste of their homeland.

By comparison, Beijing TV’s efforts to promote Lin Miao could be described as ambitious.

Beijing TV’s cultural output was weak to begin with, and most of its channels had been poured into Lin Miao’s works.

Yet, even then, no star of Debbie’s caliber had come out to help promote them.

Jia Bingyang immediately thought of Jin Yaotiao, and when he called her, she confirmed it.

However, she didn’t offer much explanation, just telling him to handle the English subtitles properly and take the opportunity to give it a try.

After hanging up, Jia Bingyang was deeply moved.

He knew how high Debbie’s status was, even though they had never worked together.

As an insider, he had a clear understanding of her influence. It would not be easy to ask her for help—apart from the money, just getting the right connections was hard enough.

Jin Yaotiao had invested in his project, and even continued to lend a hand like this.

Thanks to the film’s viral success, he had already started receiving offers from people within the industry, but he would never forget this kindness, even if he made it big one day.

After the domestic success, the disputes between the two filming teams resumed quietly overseas, but the progress was very different.

During his break, Mike received a homepage recommendation from YouTube. Out of curiosity, he put on his headphones and clicked on the film that was reportedly from China.

Since his girlfriend was Chinese, he was quite interested in many things from her country.

The film started, and it was made with great care, even featuring an English narration.

He watched without difficulty and thought the production was decent, though not particularly memorable—probably mid-to-high level in quality.

At that moment, a colleague with a cup of coffee glanced at his phone and asked, “Do you like French cuisine? I can recommend the best French food documentary I’ve seen…”

Mike took off his headphones, slightly puzzled: “I’m watching a Chinese food documentary.”

His colleague, still holding the coffee cup, looked confused: “Sorry, I saw the dishes on your screen and thought it was a French chef’s work. I thought it was pretty average.”

Mike was surprised and looked at his phone, the same thought occurring to him.

Indeed.

He searched for the French food documentary his colleague mentioned, clicked on it, and immediately felt it was of higher quality.

The French-made documentary clearly had more cultural characteristics, and he soon forgot about the average-quality Chinese one.

When he got home, he found his girlfriend and her friends gathered around, intently watching something on her phone.

Mike took off his jacket and greeted them: “Hey, what are you watching?”

His girlfriend responded, “I’m watching a food documentary from our country. It’s recommended by Debbie, and it’s very popular on YouTube now.”

Mike thought she was talking about the documentary he had watched earlier: “Really? I thought it was just okay, how could it be so popular? You could try XX, it’s much better.”

His girlfriend paused: “Isn’t XX a French food documentary? What does it have to do with our Chinese food?”

Mike shrugged: “I thought they were similar.”

His girlfriend looked at him in confusion: “What are you talking about?”

Mike remembered that his girlfriend was a fan of Debbie and awkwardly smiled: “Okay, if it’s your idol’s recommendation, forget it. Let’s keep watching.”

He sat down next to her and glanced at the screen, but was taken aback.

“Eh?”

The narration wasn’t in his native language but a rich and powerful foreign language. Only the subtitles below made it clear what was being prepared on screen.

The dishes being prepared were completely different from the ones in the documentaries he had watched earlier.

The filming locations weren’t tidy, uniform restaurants, but more like a home kitchen.

Under the warm, yellowish light, a large steaming pot emitted steam, and next to it, a slender black-haired girl with long fingers was delicately handling a piece of dough.

Her hands were incredibly skillful, quickly flattening the soft dough, stuffing it with filling, and neatly folding it into beautiful pleats.

A child’s clear voice was heard as the camera panned to a small figure, barely taller than the table, standing on tiptoe to watch her.

In the distance, a large round table was filled with countless plates of food, and people moved about the table, giving off a warm, homely vibe.

Mike watched the girl shaping the dough, feeling both curious and unfamiliar.

He was so caught up in it that he forgot what he was about to say, quietly sitting down next to his girlfriend to continue watching.

He asked, “What is she making?”

“She’s preparing New Year’s Eve dinner. This is the third episode of Chinese Delicacies, called ‘Festivals.’” His girlfriend replied softly, “In China, we have many traditional festivals, and the most important one is New Year’s. During the New Year, families gather together to enjoy a New Year’s Eve dinner. It’s a very happy thing.”

Mike, listening, showed a look of longing: “That sounds interesting.”

The dishes on the screen were also intriguing.

The girl on screen was fair and delicate, with swift and tidy movements, only showing a slight warmth in her calm eyes when she looked toward her family.

She placed the dumplings into a pot and continued preparing other dishes.

Mike was fascinated by many dishes he had never seen before and kept asking his girlfriend about them.

The film was shot well, with clear visuals and detailed sound. When the camera zoomed in, the golden skin of a three-yellow chicken, simmered until nearly translucent and juicy, the red-braised pig’s trotters bubbling in soup, and the eight-treasure rice with five or six different colored sticky rice—it all looked magnificent.

When the dish was placed in the pot, the fire flared high, creating a powerful effect.

The screen was beautiful, and the dishes looked exquisite.

How should he put it… It wasn’t the same kind of refined elegance of French cuisine.

It was a different kind of elegance, the kind found in the round, beautiful dumplings wrapped up, the rainbow-colored eight-treasure rice.

These things were things Mike had never seen in the French food documentary his colleague had recommended.

Mike asked curiously, “Is this Chinese food? It looks different from what I eat. I thought you guys usually eat dishes like Mapo tofu and sweet-and-sour chicken at home.”

His girlfriend rolled her eyes: “China has so much delicious food you don’t even know about. The stuff sold in restaurants isn’t authentic. The girl cooking in the documentary is a very famous restaurant owner in our country. When you see her cooking, you’ll know what we usually eat.”

Mike looked at the array of dishes on the round table, recalling the cooking process he had just seen.

He felt his previous understanding had been refreshed and was filled with endless curiosity. “If I get the chance, I’d really like to visit your country.”

This documentary had left a strong impression on him.

Despite not understanding the language, even though he had never tasted those dishes, he felt as if he could sense their deliciousness through the screen.

Festivals… He grew incredibly curious about the land he had never set foot on.

Lost in thought, he suddenly looked down and saw his girlfriend crying while holding her phone that had just finished playing the video.

Mike was startled. “Why are you crying?”

His girlfriend covered her face, tears falling down her chin. “I miss home so much. Next update isn’t until five days later! Why can’t I cook? I want to eat white-cut chicken, dumplings, eight-treasure rice, and red-braised pig’s feet…”

Mike quickly tried to comfort her. “Don’t cry. This afternoon I found a food documentary from your country. Let’s watch it together.”

However, when the video opened, his girlfriend glanced at it and became angry. “This isn’t our country’s food!”

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Similar scenes were unfolding all over the place.

Thanks to Debbie’s promotion, many Chinese people around the world had heard of “Chinese Gourmet Delights,” a documentary that made them so hungry they couldn’t help but comment on the domestic official social media page of the documentary:

[“Cried while watching. I haven’t been back to China for three years. Watching episode three ‘Festivals,’ I was both hungry and couldn’t stop crying.”]

[“Studying abroad, after watching ‘Chinese Gourmet Delights,’ I tried making braised beef brisket like in the show. Hehe, my landlord’s family finished the soup base.”]

[“Waaah, the production team should just kill me! I’m in the UK and can’t cook. This year, I must try to go home for Chinese New Year!”]

In Chinese communities, the word spread fast, and with Debbie’s influence, the unique style of this documentary really attracted a considerable overseas audience.

In no time, the overseas fanbase for “Chinese Gourmet Delights” grew rapidly.

Every new episode garnered comments from different countries—curious about Chinese food, nostalgic for home cooking, and requests for subtitles in other languages…

Lin Miao stared blankly at the homepage of his show, which had been promoted with a huge budget by the Beijing TV station.

The page had some comments from newly attracted viewers, but the viewership didn’t improve, and the foreigners commenting didn’t seem to have the deep respect for Chinese cuisine that he had expected.

Compared to those intrigued by his work and curious about Chinese food, more overseas Chinese were questioning what kind of content he was actually making.

On the other hand, Jia Bingyang’s side was thriving, like the flames in the cast-iron pot his camera captured.

Jia Bingyang’s film had been well-received domestically.

Although it surprised him, it wasn’t hard to accept.

The greasy dishes he filmed were what people encountered every day in their lives.

The country had only just begun to improve, with some regions still working on poverty alleviation.

Viewers who had never seen the world couldn’t appreciate high-end, delicate creations. It was normal for them to not understand his innovative ideas for advanced civilization.

But the overseas market was different.

Foreigners had been ahead for many years, and overseas Chinese had seen the world.

They wouldn’t want to eat the greasy meals from Jia Bingyang’s work.

But no matter whether he could accept it or not, one conclusion was clear:

Jia Bingyang had made it big.

After being kicked out of the documentary team and Beijing TV, he managed to rise using the documentary he looked down on.

The rest of the story involves more politics within the TV station, with Lin Miao struggling against internal tensions and power struggles.

There are also moments where Lin Miao’s uncle tries to cover up mistakes, and the pressure continues to mount. Meanwhile, Jia Bingyang is gaining traction, with his controversial but successful project making waves.

The tension in the story revolves around the clash of ideals, the success of “Chinese Gourmet Delights,” and Lin Miao’s struggle to reconcile with the reality of the situation.