Chapter 67: Chef Qin Yun Is Online

The plane landed at Xiaoshan Airport, the plane took off from Xiaoshan Airport…

At the international exit, Su Huan periodically looked up at the large screen on the wall, then glanced toward the exit, but never saw a familiar figure.

“Why hasn’t he come out yet? The plane landed ages ago.”

Su Huan looked down at her phone, muttering to herself.

“What are you mumbling about?”

Suddenly, a voice came from beside her, startling her; she snapped her head up and saw Qin Yun standing to her left, backpack on his shoulders.

“When did you get out?”

Su Huan blurted out.

“Let’s go, let’s go—talk in the car.” Qin Yun walked toward the exit; Su Huan hurried after him.

Su Huan had driven his Land Rover to pick him up. Qin Yun put his backpack away, got in the car, and waited until they were on the main road before turning to look at Su Huan behind the wheel.

“Big Host Qin, why are you staring at me?”

Qin Yun smiled, turned his gaze back to the traffic ahead: “First, let’s get dinner—just find any stir-fry place near your place.”

Su Huan: “Sure, you’re paying.”

“NOPROBLEM!!”

“This wilderness survival livestream has firmly established you in the outdoor niche—your livestreams are now extremely popular on Douyin,” Su Huan said, shifting to business. “What’s your plan next? Keep doing wilderness content, or…?”

Qin Yun shook his head: “First, rest. I’ll decide later—I’m not sure if I’ll continue with wilderness livestreams, but I’ll probably stick with it.”

He’d been thinking about this very thing on the plane.

Normally, he should just follow the check-in tasks—it’d be easier. But after careful thought, following them blindly would make his self-media path too haphazard, like blindly swinging a stick at a tree that might not even bear fruit.

So before landing, he wondered: what if he reversed the process—integrated the check-in tasks into his self-media work instead?

For example, this Daxing’anling check-in task came first, then the livestream followed. Next time, he’d plan the livestream direction first; the task would naturally appear in his local area, and he could complete it during the livestream.

Of course, this was still just a thought—he hadn’t decided yet.

“Mm, just make sure you think it through,” Su Huan said, driving, her eyes occasionally glancing at Qin Yun’s face through the rearview mirror.

That face, weathered by five days of wind and sun, was rougher now—but somehow more compelling.

“By the way, about your studio. If you want to set one up in Hangzhou, it’s simple—you can register entirely online. As for Fang Nan, her current partnership with friends can fully handle your production needs, at market rates.”

“Did you mention it to Fang Nan?”

Su Huan nodded, then smiled as something occurred to her: “Fang Nan was reluctant—she said since you made a prior agreement, you should stick to it. But I shut that down.”

Qin Yun shook his head: “Five days of footage for a thousand yuan? She’d take it, but I wouldn’t pay it—not even Huang Shiren would be that outrageous.”

“Exactly—this much footage can’t be handled by one person in a short time. A formal business arrangement is best.”

“I agree.”

As the car exited the ramp, Qin Yun looked at her: “What about you?”

“Me?” Su Huan blinked, then glanced at him. “I already said I’m just lending a hand—free help during my free time. We’re old classmates, good friends—isn’t it too worldly to bring money into it?”

“Or… do you want to use money to draw a line between us?”

Qin Yun watched Su Huan’s teasing, slightly annoyed smile behind the wheel, his heart skipped a beat—he quickly looked away. “No, but if you take nothing, how am I supposed to feel? Just treat it as a side job—I’ll give you five percent of each livestream’s income…”

“One percent is enough.”

Su Huan had already figured it out. As Qin Yun said, if things went well, his self-media would only grow bigger, his earnings rising. If she kept helping for free, she’d push him away. So why not use money to bind their relationship?

“Isn’t that too little?”

“Enough. Listen to me—one percent.” Su Huan’s tone was firm, unyielding. “You said it’s just my side job—then follow my decision.”

Seeing her resolve, Qin Yun nodded reluctantly: “Fine.”

“Then today, prepare your ID, bank card, account details, and studio name—I’ll register the studio these next few days.”

“Got it!”

The car finally stopped at a parking spot below Su Huan’s building. Qin Yun took nothing and followed her out of the compound to eat.

During dinner, Su Huan asked: “When are you going back to Zhoushan?”

“Not yet,” Qin Yun chewed his food, silently shaking his head—the flavor was mediocre. He had countless ways to improve this dish, each far superior to what was before him.

“I plan to explore other parts of Zhejiang.”

“Road trip?”

Qin Yun nodded: “Yes—Shaoxing, Jinhua, Quzhou—I’ll just wander around.”

Road-tripping served two purposes: travel and expanding horizons, and fulfilling check-in tasks. He’d noticed it was hard to get a second task in one place; even after staying in Hangzhou so long, he’d only gotten one task—for West Lake.

Same in Zhoushan—he suspected the system had a long cooldown period for task generation in each city.

But regardless of the reason, to complete check-in tasks, he had to travel.

Especially after experiencing the changes brought by his skills—he’d grown fond of this feeling. During livestreams, when he casually named a plant or animal, or carved something on the spot, viewers only thought he knew a lot—or got lucky.

But only he knew: that near-instantaneous sense of control was merely the tip of the iceberg.

“Good idea. In the wilderness, danger lurked everywhere—I saw how much weight you lost. You need to relax.”

Su Huan thought Qin Yun needed rest.

Even watching his livestreams made her heart race—how much worse must it have been for him?

After dinner, Qin Yun suddenly remembered four wolf fangs in his backpack—he had no interest in them himself, but had kept them to give to fans.

“By the way, want a wolf fang?”

“Wolf fang?” Su Huan blinked, then suddenly realized—her eyes lit up. “You mean you took the teeth from those two wolves?”

Qin Yun nodded: “Took four canines. I’ll give you one.”

“Great! What about the other three?”

“Planning to give them to a few big sponsors—I’ll ask them now.”

He immediately messaged Bo Lang Ge and Feng Liu Jie, and Chen He, who had spent the third most on carnivals.

Zeng Luo and Han Wei responded instantly, sending addresses. Chen He sent a silly kneeling emoji, followed by a long voice message full of thanks.

“I’ll give you the addresses—could you mail these three fangs and two wooden carvings for me?”

“Sure, no problem.”

On the way back, Su Huan suddenly remembered something. She stared ahead, her voice slightly hesitant: “If you haven’t booked a hotel yet, sleep at my place—my sofa pulls out.”

Qin Yun was about to say he’d already booked, but then noticed how red her earlobes were. Instantly, he swallowed his reply.

“Oh! Now that you mention it, I forgot to book a hotel.” He feigned dismay. “Won’t that be too much trouble?”

“No trouble at all—you won’t sleep in my bedroom. What’s the fuss?”

“Alright, thanks.”

Both turned away, exhaling softly.

Qin Yun took his backpack from the trunk—this was his second time entering Su Huan’s home. Same scent, same cleanliness as last time.

He glanced at the backpack in his hand, then tossed it on the floor.

“Want to shower first? Oh, I have a bathtub—you can soak in it.”

Qin Yun’s eyes lit up: “That’d be perfect.”

Su Huan rolled her eyes, heading toward the bathroom: “Hmph, if you weren’t so stinky, I wouldn’t offer. I’ll go fill the tub.”

Watching Su Huan’s back, Qin Yun rubbed his nose, feeling something odd.

He always felt Su Huan acted strangely toward him—but couldn’t pinpoint why. He didn’t imagine she liked him—he was a divorced man with nothing to offer. What could she possibly want?

Besides, he couldn’t afford to hold her back. His marriage was already ruined—he wouldn’t dare start a new relationship anytime soon.

Pushing aside distractions, Qin Yun pulled out clean clothes from his backpack just as Su Huan stepped out of the bathroom.

“By the way, hand me the items to mail—I’ll place the order now. SF Express still picks up at this hour.”

“Alright, let me find them.”

After Su Huan placed the order, Qin Yun sent the tracking numbers to the recipients, then took his clothes toward the bathroom.

“Just toss your dirty clothes and pants into the washing machine—they’ll be done by the time you finish soaking. Then throw them in the dryer.”

Qin Yun glanced at the two large appliances against the wall—he thought his mom could use one.

His family’s apartment in Zhoushan Fishery Dormitory was on the first floor—sunlight vanished quickly. With a dryer, his mom wouldn’t have to worry about rain or clouds when washing clothes.

The bathroom was small but dry-wet separated. The bathtub sat inside, wrapped in a disposable soaking bag, steam rising. Qin Yun rinsed off first, then stepped into the tub.

Any man who’s soaked in a tub knows: every part of the body can endure heat—but the genitals suffer terribly. He had to test the water repeatedly before fully submerging himself.

“Ahh!”

Qin Yun kept only his head above water. Though cramped, the warmth enveloping him made the discomfort negligible.

Hearing the sounds from the bathroom, Su Huan smiled faintly.

…

The next morning, Qin Yun’s biological clock woke him on time.

He checked his phone—it was only 6:30. Su Huan’s room was silent—she was still fast asleep.

Lying around was pointless. He washed up and began searching the kitchen.

He found a pack of offal, a bag of flour, some eggs, cilantro, scallions, and perilla leaves. Since Su Huan was from Hebei, he wondered: could she actually prepare these herself?

With these ingredients, he immediately thought of breakfast.

Su Huan woke at eight, drawn by a mouthwatering aroma—and remembered there was a man in her house.

She quickly dressed and stepped out.

There, in the kitchen, Qin Yun was frying pancakes—the scent of scallion oil couldn’t be contained by the glass door.

On the other side of the stove, a pressure cooker steamed furiously—the source of the original aroma. Her eyes widened with surprise and delight.

It wasn’t surprising that Qin Yun could cook—he was a married man. But that he could make these two dishes was beyond her expectations.

Mutton offal soup and salty snacks—these were both signature breakfast specialties of Hebei.

Pulling open the glass door, Su Huan leaned against the frame, smirking: “You didn’t learn this from Xiaohongshu, did you?”

Qin Yun had already noticed Su Huan; hearing her voice, he didn’t turn around: “Hah, you’re underestimating me. Try my cooking later—you don’t even know my other nickname.”

“What other nickname?” Su Huan played along.

The Food God of Shenzhou

“Pfft—”

That scoff vanished the moment the mutton offal soup touched her lips, replaced by wide-eyed delight.

“Qin Yun, you really can cook! This is amazing—I’ve never made it taste this authentic myself.”

“Child’s play. If you like it, drink more. This master chef doesn’t show up often.”