Chapter Fifty-Six: The Self-Cultivation of the Young Assistant

The next day dawned bright and clear. Sunlight spilled in, warm and splendid. Du Fang woke from his slumber, stretched languidly, then headed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for Luoluo.

Breakfast was simple: a glass of milk, a sandwich.

After eating, Du Fang changed into fresh clothes, took Luoluo’s hand, and together they stepped outside. Locking the door behind him, Du Fang’s gaze lingered on the neighbor Hou’s door—shut tight, steeped in silent desolation.

“Hou hasn’t come home all night again… Ah, I miss him,” Du Fang murmured to himself.

He found himself yearning for the taste of Hou’s native ginger duck dish.

Beside him, Luoluo pursed her lips. Dad was once again making light of the absent neighbor—so ruthless, she thought, and she liked it.

Du Fang led Luoluo out of the neighborhood, and as expected, his assistant Su Xiaoyu was already crouched by the roadside, slurping eagerly from a bowl of river snail noodles.

“How is it that you’re here so punctually every morning for your noodles? Are you on familiar terms with the shop owner by now?” Du Fang teased.

Su Xiaoyu wiped her mouth, flashed a practiced grin, sprayed some perfume, and said, “I simply bought the shop. Now I’m the owner, he’s the employee. So, whenever I come, he has to be here, doesn’t he?”

Du Fang, holding Luoluo’s hand, stared blankly. To better enjoy her noodles every morning at his neighborhood gate, she’d bought the whole shop. Was this the life of the wealthy?

So, Su Xiaoyu’s special awakened ability… was it the power of money?

Du Fang was at a loss for words.

“By the way, Du, didn’t you say you wanted ginger duck? I’ve bought a large storefront just outside your community, opened a ginger duck restaurant. If you want to eat, just go—it's free! Or if you prefer, call and I’ll have duck delivered right to your door,” Su Xiaoyu said earnestly.

Pleasing Du, or rather, fulfilling his wishes, was her profession.

“This… how can I accept that?” Du Fang scratched the back of his head, smiling.

“Du, don’t be so polite with me. I’m your assistant. Whatever you want, I’ll make it happen,” Su Xiaoyu replied, her sense of duty unwavering.

“Then let’s go and try the ginger duck?” Du Fang and Luoluo both involuntarily licked their lips.

Hou’s ginger duck had left a deep impression, and Du Fang was eager to taste it again.

“Alright, I’ll arrange it right away,” Su Xiaoyu beamed, and to Du Fang’s astonishment, pulled out a walkie-talkie.

“All departments, attention! Du Fang is coming for ginger duck. Prepare immediately—arrival in five minutes!” she commanded.

“Received!” came the synchronized reply from the walkie-talkie.

Su Xiaoyu then led Du Fang and Luoluo on foot to the restaurant. It wasn’t far—just five minutes away.

The decor wasn’t lavish, likely because it had just been acquired and the original style was kept. The air was thick with aroma.

Du Fang sat at the table, anticipation in his eyes.

Soon, a chef dressed in white, wearing a tall hat and bearing a confident, professional smile, emerged carrying a tray.

His bearing was far above that of an ordinary street cook.

“That’s the five-star Fujian cuisine chef I borrowed from my grandfather’s hotel. His skills are good,” Su Xiaoyu whispered.

Du Fang glanced at her and raised a thumb. Her prowess left him speechless.

As the lid was lifted, steam and fragrance poured forth. The chef carved off a leg and placed it on Du Fang’s plate.

“Don’t carve mine yet—prepare a portion for the little girl first,” Su Xiaoyu quickly interjected.

The chef was momentarily perplexed, but didn’t question it—after all, Su Xiaoyu was the boss, and his job was to follow her instructions.

Du Fang eagerly took a bite, but soon put down his chopsticks.

“This ginger duck is different—the flavor isn’t quite right… It feels like it’s missing its soul, as if one ingredient is absent. It lacks punch,” Du Fang shook his head in disappointment.

Hou’s ginger duck was authentic, so delicious it made him feel carefree and ready for a peaceful nap.

Still, Du Fang was grateful to his assistant, so he finished the duck leg rather than waste it.

He left the restaurant with Luoluo.

Outside, Su Xiaoyu watched Du Fang walk ahead, his spirit diminished. Guilt weighed heavy on her heart; her hand trembled as she gripped the walkie-talkie.

“I failed… I actually let Du Fang down…” she murmured.

She picked up her phone, dialed, and said, “I’m allocating ten million. Organize a ginger duck competition, find me the very best, and have the winner cook at my restaurant!”

…

After making her arrangements, Su Xiaoyu, now in high spirits, drove her new sports car, taking Du Fang and Luoluo to Dream Crossing Tower.

On the sixteenth floor, they found Captain Zhang in a wheelchair, basking in the sunlight by the floor-to-ceiling window, reading a book.

Warm rays fell across his dark face. One hand gripped the book, his eyes squinted; his other hand idly touched his lips as he turned the page intently, occasionally murmuring in admiration.

Du Fang greeted him, then glanced over, discovering that Captain Zhang was reading a comic book.

Curious, Du Fang peeked at the title: “Night xx Mansion.”

Hmm? It seemed to be a foreign comic.

Captain Zhang, absorbed in studying foreign culture? Truly, his perspective was broad.

Sensing Du Fang’s gaze, Zhang Changlin instinctively closed the book, clearing his throat. “Ah, Du, you’re here. You must be exhausted after last night’s bloody battle?”

“Take a day off, rest well, adjust your state, and prepare for tomorrow’s rookie Dreammaster Invitational.”

“Rest today?” Before Captain Zhang finished, Su Xiaoyu’s eyes lit up. “Du, if you’re resting today, why not visit the food street I opened for you? I’ve prepared lots of delicacies!”

But Du Fang, one hand holding Luoluo, the other in his coat pocket, shook his head firmly.

“I’ll skip the rest. I feel like my martial arts and forbidden device control still have much room for improvement—I need to train hard!” Du Fang declared.

As the head of his household, Du Fang keenly desired to become stronger. Compared to Luoluo, his wife’s hand, even the pig plushie, Kiki—he was the weakest.

Su Xiaoyu immediately switched tone, praising, “My Du is so self-disciplined!”

She was gradually mastering the art of being an excellent sycophant—or rather, an excellent assistant.

Zhang Changlin’s mouth twitched. Martial arts and forbidden device control still had much room to improve? Did those words honor last night’s fallen male manager and female technician No. 18? Did they respect the beating he received during training?

At that moment, Chen Xi stumbled out of her room, yawning and sleepy-eyed.

“Morning, Du. Morning, Captain Zhang. Heard today’s a rest day?”

“Morning? Look at the time! Hurry up and train—do you want to come in last at the invitational? Do you want to shame our Wildfire team?” Zhang Changlin barked.

Chen Xi: …

You didn’t say that to Du Fang—don’t think she didn’t notice! Old Zhang, you double-standard dog!

“Captain Zhang, didn’t you tell Du Fang he could rest today?” Chen Xi protested.

“Do you know the difference between a top student and a slacker? Top students can rest, slackers cannot! This isn’t study, it’s training—and you’re not just a slacker, you’re weak. The weak don’t deserve rest!” Zhang Changlin said from his wheelchair, snorting.

Chen Xi: …

She felt as if an arrow had pierced her heart.

No comparison, no pain.

She had trained until three in the morning, she’d worked hard. But she had nothing to say—Old Zhang was right.

She was weak, she… didn’t deserve rest!

Silently, she washed her face, tied her hair back in a ponytail, and headed for the training room.

The girl faced the morning sun, determination written across her face.

One day, she would change Captain Zhang’s double-standard opinion of her!

“Du, please give me special training!” Chen Xi entered the training room, bowed to Du Fang at ninety degrees, and requested solemnly.

Du Fang agreed readily—it didn’t matter, Chen Xi fainted quickly, so it wouldn’t hinder his own training.

Thus began a day of training.

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