Chapter 341: Daily Bickering, Yan Family Cuisine, Arrogant Fan Xiaopang

Yan Li, at the company, heard the news from his cousin but wasn’t particularly tense.

Back then, several women all wanted to rise in status, newly introduced and mutually distrustful, each resenting the other, so they naturally clashed whenever they met.

Now, years later, the situation has stabilized; Yan Li’s intentions are clear, all sides have played their moves, and the threshold for conflict has risen dramatically.

Frictions and grudges certainly exist, and scheming against each other is normal—but no one would openly tear into each other or resort to violence in front of elders; at most, a few sharp words, nothing to force Yan Li to return personally to mediate.

On the twenty-ninth day of the twelfth lunar month, all companies under Yan Li’s control shut down for the holiday, but many operations still required staff on duty.

Especially Weibo—during the Spring Festival holiday, coinciding with the Spring Festival Gala, and given Weibo’s real-time trending mechanism, that night’s traffic would surely rank among the year’s peaks, so it couldn’t be ignored.

As boss, Yan Li obviously didn’t need to stay on duty, but he still came personally to offer encouragement.

Don’t say this is just surface work—surface work is still work; some people won’t even bother with that.

In addition, Yan Li personally arranged triple wages for all employees working through the Spring Festival, plus holiday bonuses and compensatory days off.

Moreover, Yan Li personally funded a hotel open during the holiday to provide three meals a day plus a luxury New Year’s Eve dinner for the overtime staff.

Because of these benefits, while the employees didn’t exactly fight to work overtime, most volunteered willingly.

After touring several companies, Yan Li returned to Yangjiao Lantern Alley.

Fan Xiaopang was on the phone in the courtyard; seeing Yan Li, he ended the call with a few perfunctory words and immediately complained.

“They’re bullying me, won’t let me stay here, saying they’ll kick me out.”

Yan Li: “...”

To trick him like a three-year-old? With Fan Xiaopang’s temper, if Qin Dong had dared say such a thing, they’d have already started fighting.

Qin Lan heard the commotion, stepped out of her room, heard the latter half, and her face flushed with anger.

“You lie without blinking—when did we ever say that?”

Fan Xiaopang shot back immediately: “You didn’t say it, but that’s what you meant, right?”

Qin Lan was speechless—she had to admit, in their earlier confrontation, some of her words, even if not outright expulsion, amounted to outright insults.

But then again, it wasn’t just them—Fan Xiaopang was just as blunt, even holding her own against two of them and gaining the upper hand.

It wasn’t that Qin Dong and the other couldn’t out-shout her—well, there was a tiny bit of that too.

But the main reason was that Qin Dong, in front of several elders, had to maintain her image as a virtuous wife and devoted mother.

Fan Xiaopang didn’t care about that; she wouldn’t sink to being a shrew, but she didn’t mind being called “sharp-tongued.”

Because of this, Qin Lan was already seething—then Fan Xiaopang came with a false accusation and twisted the truth, pushing things too far.

At that moment, Dong Xuan also stepped out, frowning at Fan Xiaopang.

“That’s a low move.”

“You think slandering us to Grandma and Dad isn’t low?”

Fan Xiaopang was sharp—she’d already guessed their tactics from earlier exchanges and now called them out directly.

“What do you mean ‘slandering’? We’re just telling the truth.”

“So am I.”

“Lies! That’s outright malicious slander!”

“Bullshit—you’re the ones exaggerating and scheming!”

“...”

Their voices grew louder; the sihe courtyard wasn’t well-insulated, so logically, those inside should’ve heard—but no one came out to mediate.

Yan Li pondered, then suddenly looked toward the window—two heads flashed past.

“...”

How calm can you be? Don’t you fear they’ll start fighting?

Not just him—Zhang Hong, who had hurriedly crouched down, also worried: “Mom, shouldn’t we go out and stop them? What if something happens?”

Yan’s grandmother hadn’t pressed against the window, but sat close to the wall beside it, her better ear turned toward the courtyard; she shook her head.

“Don’t rush—your son’s still here. If he couldn’t handle it, he wouldn’t have put the three of them together.”

Old Yan, being overweight, had just struggled to rise from bending over; he stretched his back with confidence.

“I think it’s fine. Though they’re at odds, they’ve all kept their limits—if they were going to fight, they’d have done it already, not waited for Yan Li to arrive.”

“You can’t be sure.”

Zhang Hong disagreed: “Their conflict stems from your son. His arrival might just pour oil on the fire and escalate things.”

“Talking won’t help—let’s see how my brother handles it.”

Yan Xin, who’d been watching the drama, muttered, drawing the death glare of the three Yan patriarchs.

“I didn’t notice until now—what are you standing there for?”

“Listen, Xiao Xin, keep your mouth shut—if this gets out, I’ll have your Second Uncle beat you first, then tell your parents to beat you again.”

“Shut up and stay quiet.”

Yan Xin: “...”

When it’s those daughters-in-law and granddaughters-in-law, why don’t you have that kind of nerve? You only pick on me...

Yan Li didn’t hear the commotion inside, but stomped his foot: “If you’re going to argue, take it inside—it’s freezing out here.”

Since everyone came and went through heated rooms, Yan Li wasn’t dressed thickly; of course, his physique was strong and he didn’t feel cold—he just needed an excuse to end the fight.

The women were still angry and unwilling to back down, but Yan Li pushed and herded them inside.

As they entered, Yan’s grandmother and the others were absorbed in the TV; Old Yan even delivered a solid performance.

“Son’s back—hungry? I’ll make you a bowl of noodles.”

Seeing this, Fan Xiaopang and the others couldn’t continue their outburst; they just shot each other icy glares.

“This isn’t over!”

“You two wait and see!”

Fan Xiaopang, quick on her feet, plopped down right beside Yan Li; Dong Xuan grabbed the other end; Qin Lan pursed her lips and sat beside Dong Xuan.

Yan Li ignored the still-bickering trio—he’d learned from experience.

The more he paid attention, the more they pushed boundaries—whether undermining rivals or gaining advantage, they’d just escalate.

Conversely, if he remained cold and indifferent, they’d either grow anxious or lose interest, and gradually quiet down.

Of course, each situation required analysis—sometimes this tactic worked, sometimes it acted as a catalyst or even encouraged open conflict; Yan Li knew when to apply the right pressure.

Right now, at least, they weren’t nearly as docile as they appeared.

Fan Xiaopang secretly pinched Yan Li; Dong Xuan’s long fingernails scraped him intermittently; Qin Lan, ever virtuous, handed him water—scalding hot.

These three women!

Yan Li didn’t hold back—he pinched back whenever Fan Xiaopang pinched him, squeezed back when Dong Xuan scraped him, and since he was tall and long-armed, Dong Xuan couldn’t block him from reaching Qin Lan.

The room was small, and with so few people, their subtle moves couldn’t be hidden from others.

Zhang Hong shot her son a glare but said nothing; Old Yan muttered about overcast skies possibly bringing snow, then dragged his nephew outside to tidy up.

Yan’s grandmother sat with her hands clasped, smiling as she watched her grandson and daughters-in-law squabble.

Yan Li had thick skin and was family, so he didn’t care; Qin Lan and Dong Xuan, however, felt some discomfort before elders.

Fan Xiaopang could handle it, but she knew not to overdo it—she had to play along a little, and more importantly, this bastard was too bold; she couldn’t hold him off alone.

After this commotion, though awkward, the atmosphere had softened a bit; the old lady and Zhang Hong chatted casually with the others.

Yan Li wasn’t interested—he went outside to keep Old Yan company.

As for Yan Xin, it was getting late; Old Yan sent him home to pack and prepare for returning to the countryside.

At the gate archway, the two men sheltered from the wind, each with a chair and a cigarette, watching passersby through the half-open gate.

“How’s the plan for opening a restaurant in Beijing going with your mom?”

Yan Li had long wanted to bring his parents to Beijing to live with him, and for that, he’d deployed his ultimate tactic: opening a restaurant in Beijing, run by his parents.

Previously, his parents had resisted coming to Beijing—first, because they knew no one there; second, because they felt they’d have nothing to do.

But these recent visits had helped them make some acquaintances, so they wouldn’t be too lonely; with the restaurant ready, it would give them a legitimate livelihood, regardless of profit.

“Dad, I’ve already secured the location—right next to Gongwang Mansion, a short stroll away. The space isn’t huge, so you won’t get worn out, but everything you need is there—open kitchen, bright counters, your skills won’t go to waste.”

As he spoke, Yan Li showed him photos; his father was tempted but still hesitated.

“I don’t mind, but your mom might not want to—she won’t want to leave her old friends and regular customers.”

Old Yan usually stayed in the kitchen; when idle, he’d boast in the village. Compared to showcasing his skills in Beijing, he could overcome this.

But Zhang Hong, as the restaurant owner, loved gossip and small talk, and thanks to her son’s status, she had an excellent social network—she might not want to abandon years of connections.

“This is easy—I’ll handle it.”

Previously, Yan Li wouldn’t have dared promise he could convince his mother—but now it was different; he was planning to have a child within the next one or two years.

Which mattered more: her social network, or her grandson? Zhang Hong would know.

Not just Zhang Hong—if he pushed hard, he might even keep the old lady herself; even if not, at least she’d spend more time in Beijing each year to see her great-grandchild.

Seeing Yan Li so confident, Old Yan—who was already tempted—grew even more eager, scrolling through the photos on Yan Li’s phone, when suddenly he remembered something.

“If we open a restaurant in Beijing, we can’t call it ‘Yan Lao Er Restaurant.’”

In the countryside, restaurants named after “Yan Lao Er,” “Wang Lao Da,” or “Zhang Lao San” were everywhere—no big deal. But in Beijing, such a name would seem crude.

Even if Old Yan didn’t care, he had to consider his wealthy son’s reputation.

“Don’t worry—I’ve already thought of a name: Yan Family Cuisine.”

“Yan Family Cuisine?”

Old Yan murmured it, rubbing his hands: “It sounds good, but isn’t the name too grand? People who put their surnames on restaurants are industry giants.”

“They’re referring to culinary styles—we’re naming our restaurant. Yan Family Cuisine means dishes made by the Yan family. What’s wrong with that?”

Yan Li countered—worst case, he’d add celebrity appeal. With his fame and status, wasn’t he entitled to name his own family restaurant?

Seeing Old Yan still hesitating, Yan Li resorted to goading him: “Besides, with your skills and the recipes I’ve tracked down for you, you’re already famous across southern Shandong—why fear someone coming to wreck your place?”

At these words, Old Yan straightened up.

His cooking certainly couldn’t match that of the national master chefs, but he had his son bringing him recipes and secret formulas from all over; a few of his signature dishes were top-tier, having won over many renowned chefs and gourmets.

Without this confidence, he wouldn’t have entertained the idea of his son opening a restaurant for him in the capital.

Seeing this, Yan Li turned the goading into a vision: “First, build your reputation; then take on a few good apprentices. In a few years, Yan Family Cuisine might just become a distinct culinary school—then you, sir, would be the first-generation founder, the founding patriarch.”

“Where’s this restaurant of yours? I’ll go take a look sometime.”

Old Yan was so full from Yan Li’s vision that he was eager to open immediately and show the capital’s chefs what real cooking looked like.