Standoff

Tang Feiliu had no idea what his absence meant to Lord Edward. To Tang Feiliu, Alexander was like a brother. Spring in York was still chilly, and Tang Feiliu, being rather frail, felt the cold keenly. Since his brother had insisted so strongly, Tang Feiliu had simply gone with the flow!

Besides, most of the house had been decorated by Tang Feiliu himself. The bedroom his brother had given him overlooked the garden behind, exquisitely beautiful. Compared to the vast, cold castle, this place suited Tang Feiliu far better. Before Edward returned to Black Swan Manor, Tang Feiliu actually spent more time here than at the manor itself.

It couldn't be helped. Having grown up in a modern city, Tang Feiliu, though fundamentally convinced he belonged to this era, still cherished lively environments and beautiful garden villas deep down. Moreover, Black Swan City was gradually making a name for itself in the surrounding areas, earning the reputation of a city that never sleeps.

To modern ears, this sounded like a joke. After all, compared to other cities, Black Swan merely boasted restaurants open until midnight and bars staying open even later—hardly the true meaning of a modern city that never sleeps.

To the people of this era, however, Black Swan City, though only beginning to emerge, had already revealed its vast and prosperous exterior.

Moreover, living within the city walls allowed Tang Feiliu to encounter ordinary people of this era more frequently. Overhearing their conversations occasionally jogged his memory of modern things—like the last time, when he overheard the innkeeper and his wife discussing the nighttime guests. They remarked that most arrived in the biting cold, some arriving after dusk. Yet those who could afford lodging within the city walls, regardless of status, still carried spare coins. They came to Black Swan not for the modest inns outside—like the one Stewart's father-in-law now ran—but for the city's most opulent establishment, drawn by its luxury. Most were wealthy merchants.

After journeying through dust and wind to Black Swan City, they beheld its vast, opulent splendor—a city so newly built that even its corner sparked awe and admiration. Once their astonishment subsided, most yearned to feast immediately.

This was the tale these merchants passed among themselves—Black Swan City boasted a menu unmatched by any neighboring kingdom, not even the kings'! Here, they found the latest cream-filled sweet rolls, delicious sandwiches stuffed with smoked ham and greens, and fiery dishes only true men dared to eat without flinching!

Though these merchants carried generous tips in their hands, the innkeeper and his wife wore sour expressions when discussing it. They too were small traders who had moved from elsewhere, spending every last coin to buy this land and build this luxurious inn. While the profits made them happy—so much so they were already planning to buy a house and settle in Black Swan—

The problem was, many at Black Swan had obtained Mr. Lance's recipes. Generous and kind-hearted, he gladly shared the delicacies he'd discovered... Yet most were expensive and intricate, requiring skill to replicate; others were cheap and tasty, but only those who truly loved these foods could capture their subtle, indescribable essence.

It's simple: ask someone who dislikes spicy food to cook spicy dishes, and they'll struggle to capture that signature punch. Similarly, someone who dislikes cream cakes would never go to great lengths to find fruits or vegetables that pair with cream to create a stunning effect.

The hotel owners, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, were precisely such people. They ran the hotel bearing their surname—both exceptionally cheerful individuals. Mr. Anderson was shrewd, even a bit stingy, while Mrs. Anderson mirrored his nature. She sat behind the counter daily, keeping a watchful eye on every employee, fearful they might pocket even a penny.

While their personalities might not sound particularly endearing, their employees actually liked them quite a bit. Though the Andersons were stingy, they never skimped on what was owed. Having seemingly fought their way out of extreme poverty, they never wasted a single penny.

This mindset dictated their spending habits—they never splurged on food or drink.

Mr. Anderson always believed that eating soft bread was a luxury fit for an emperor! In Black Swan City, everyone had enough to eat, and now even commoners could occasionally enjoy loaves as long as an arm, free from sawdust or sand.

"The common folk in this city live better than nobility!" Mr. Anderson once remarked in conversation. Mrs. Anderson was much the same—her dresses patched upon patches. Of course, after opening the inn, for the sake of a lady proprietor's dignity, she finally splurged on a colorful fringed dress for shopping or outings. Fundamentally, however, every penny she spent had to justify its purpose. Otherwise, in Mrs. Anderson's eyes, it was an entirely unnecessary expense.

Such a couple, one could tell, had no particular interest in food. They certainly thought some new cream cakes or sweet breads were quite nice, but apart from indulging in a little taste during Christmas and New Year's, they were perfectly content with milk and bread at other times.

What they hadn't anticipated was that their frugality would lead to the first major problem since opening the inn—guests arriving late at night, famished, wanting to order some of York's famous dishes, only to go hungry!

This was awkward.

Even more awkward was that other small inns all had their own signature dishes! Take the Tut Inn run by Stuart's father-in-law, for instance—their stew was legendary. It was so popular they could only serve limited portions to their guests.

Other inns were similar. Take Lily's good friend Coco, for instance—she excelled at potato dishes. Even something as common as potato wedges, when marinated and fried by Coco, turned out exceptionally fluffy and savory. Topped with her secret meat sauce, they were so addictive, diners never wanted to leave!

And yet, even the most luxurious Anderson Inn couldn't offer their famished guests their signature dish! As one complaining merchant put it, "Forget other places—bread and dark beer would suffice there. But this is Black Swan City!"

"Exactly! We're in Black Swan City!" Tang Feiliu overheard Mr. Anderson venting to his wife. He snapped impatiently, "Every inn in Black Swan City—even those inferior to ours—has their signature dish. How can we not have one?"

"But everyone in town with that skill is already employed, or simply doesn't want to work at an inn." Mrs. Anderson was equally anxious. Black Swan City had become their permanent home. They'd traveled elsewhere before, earning some money, but Black Swan was different. Though they'd made a fortune opening the city's first luxury hotel, this was their first attempt at building a reputable, family-run business rather than just a quick money-making venture.

So even though these were just casual guest complaints, they couldn't help but take them seriously. Yet, as Mrs. Anderson said, most of the skilled craftsmen in Black Swan City had been hired elsewhere. Some had opened their own small inns, others had been recruited, and a few had even been invited by shrewd businessmen to partner in opening new bakeries in other cities.

When Tang Feiliu heard this, inspiration struck. Smiling, he stepped inside and said to Anderson, "...I happen to have a little idea."

In Tang Feiliu's view, Black Swan City was destined to go through this phase—from initial chaos to orderly development. If left to its own devices, it would inevitably endure repeated growing pains: cutthroat competition, clique-forming, and mutual exclusion.

The Andersons' struggle to find a chef wasn't solely due to a shortage of talent in York or Anderson's overly high standards. A significant factor was precisely the issues mentioned above. But Tang Feiliu didn't want Black Swan City to endure these detours. He hoped the city would flourish quickly, spurring a second renaissance for York City—that would be the best outcome.

Thus, Tang Feiliu proposed several strategic directions to the Andersons. The next news he received was that Mr. Anderson had secured cooperative agreements with several small inns: these establishments would provide signature dishes, while merchants and their servants staying at the luxury hotel would be prioritized for direct placement at these smaller inns by Mr. Anderson.

These were the subtle currents discernible only to those dwelling within the city. Such matters might seem insignificant, yet they were interconnected like a single hair affecting the entire body. No one could predict what the collapse of a luxury hotel might signify for an emerging city—perhaps merchants' loss of trust and investment hesitation, or perhaps chaotic crowds doubling the patrols' workload...

When Tang Feiliu lived in the city, he occasionally observed these dynamics. If the impact was minor, he let them run their course. But if the consequences were significant, he always encouraged everyone to explore mutually beneficial solutions.

Now, as he savored his spicy hotpot stir-fry, he inquired with Stuart about their post-harvest potato processing. The atmosphere reached its peak when Tang Feiliu’s freshly baked apple puff pastry was served!

This was Tang Feiliu's first attempt at an apple pie. He'd crafted it meticulously: diced apples simmered in syrup were layered atop flaky pastry. One bite released the crisp crust enveloping rich, creamy filling, where sweet syrup mingled with crisp, tangy apple chunks—so delicious it made one want to sigh with pleasure.

Just then, a servant rushed in, bowing deeply as he announced, "His Grace the Duke has arrived."

Stuart and Lily immediately dropped their food and stood up in alarm. Tang Feiliu turned to see His Grace the Duke, radiating an icy chill, striding directly into the room.

Within York's domain, His Grace the Duke enjoyed unrestricted access. Yet even knowing this, Alexander's anger flared at the sight of him storming in with fury etched on his face. He spoke softly, "Your Grace, you may not regard this as my house, but please understand—this is Doug's home."

The words were veiled yet blunt—the Duke could enter any place, a privilege of lordship, but this was the Doug family's home, and Tang Feiliu's home.

No noble would ever barge into the home of a respected person without announcing their arrival. Edward's manner of entering was a blatant declaration to Lance: I hold no respect for your lineage or your family!

In this era, it was an immense breach of etiquette.

Only then did Edward realize his own concern had been misplaced. He'd been too preoccupied with what Alexander—a man whose true nature remained unclear—might have said to Lance, or what slander he might be plotting. To Edward, it seemed like he was worried his naive angel might be deceived. But to Lance, this scene was undeniably disrespectful to his family.

Edward instantly grew tense.

As for Tang Feiliu... he had no clue what Alexander meant by his elaborate speech, but he definitely sensed the tension between the two. Glancing left and right, Tang Feiliu couldn't help but ask, "You... you guys okay?"

"I'm fine," Alexander replied to his younger brother.

"I'm fine, little Lance. Why don't you and... these two guests step outside for a moment? Your brother and I need to talk." Edward nodded in agreement, patting Lance reassuringly to coax him out.

Alexander clearly didn't want the two to confront each other directly and scare his younger brother. Hearing this, he said, "It's fine, Lance. Go ahead and try the milk tea I made?"

Tang Feiliu looked around, confused and a bit worried. After repeated urging from both men, he reluctantly stepped outside.

He sat down not far from the doorway, ready to rush back inside if things went wrong.

This uneasy feeling... Why did it feel so much like angry parents judging the wild man who lured their son out of the closet?! Tang Feiliu couldn't help but think!

Inside the door, Edward fixed Alexander with a grim stare. His voice was icy. "Whatever you seek from me, if you intend to use Lance, I assure you—not only will you fail to achieve your goal, but you will deeply regret your recent recklessness."

Alexander, caught off guard, burst into a bitter laugh. He looked at Edward and murmured, "Your Excellency, you stole the Doug family's treasure while I was unprepared, and now you dare to cry thief? Truly admirable."

Amidst the remnants of the feast and the flickering candlelight, the two men stared at each other, finding each other utterly unbearable.

Author's Note:

A perfect example of talking at cross-purposes: Edward and Alexander.