You got your marriage certificate and then abandoned me? I'll feed the richest woman in the wor

[Scene: The deck of a top-of-the-line private yacht owned exclusively by Star Ventures on the banks of the Seine in Paris, France]

The dull thud of the heavy kick still echoed on the damp, cold flagstone steps.

The Michelin-starred chef, who had been kicked away, clutched his chest and writhed in pain in the rain.

Mud splashed onto his snow-white chef's uniform.

Chen Yuan didn't spare even a glance.

The black haute couture trench coat billowed in the wind, forming a cold, hard arc.

His broad arms held Shen Wanzhou tightly in his embrace, shielding her from all the cold wind and prying eyes.

Eagle was accompanied by thirty bodyguards in black.

Like a black, sharp knife, it forcefully cleaved a path through the frenzied crowd.

Shoes wading through the puddles, the group walked down the steps without looking back.

They crawled into the armored convoy that had been waiting for them.

The moment the car door closed.

The noise, worship, and camera shutter sounds outside were completely shut out.

Half an hour later.

On the banks of the Seine, a gentle breeze ripples across the shimmering water.

A pure white, streamlined, top-of-the-line private yacht is quietly moored in its exclusive berth.

The ship's hull is adorned with dark gold star patterns.

Chen Yuan led Shen Wanzhou onto the teakwood deck.

The yacht's engine emitted a deep hum as it slowly sailed away from the bustling dock.

We headed toward a relatively quiet section of the Seine.

In the open galley of the lower deck.

Sunlight streamed through the porthole, casting ripples of light onto the tiled floor.

Chen Yuan took off his suit jacket and casually draped it over the bar stool at the bar.

Long, slender fingers unbuttoned the pure white shirt.

The cuffs were neatly rolled up above the forearms, revealing strong, smooth muscle lines.

He turned on the tap.

The cool, clean water splashed and rinsed the large, well-defined hands.

A wild yellow croaker, freshly air-freighted, lies quietly on the cutting board.

The fish scales have been removed, and the fish's body gleams with a fresh silvery sheen.

Shen Wanzhou did not go back to her room to rest.

She was wearing a beige knitted maxi dress and soft-soled slippers.

Like a clingy little tail, it leaned against the kitchen door frame.

Two fair and delicate hands gripped the edge of the glass.

Those shimmering, peach-blossom eyes stared unblinkingly at Chen Yuan's retreating figure.

His nostrils twitched slightly.

A clear "gulping" swallowing sound came from his throat.

She had just gone through a lot of trouble at Michelin-starred restaurants, but she wasn't actually full at all.

Chen Yuan noticed the gaze behind him.

With his right hand, he drew a sharp chef's knife from the knife rack.

The blade flashed a cold, silvery light as it sliced ​​through the air.

Knock knock knock.

The blade cuts smoothly along the fishbone.

Make neat, fine cross-shaped cuts on both sides of the fish.

The depth was consistent, and not a single fishbone was cut off.

Heat the pan and add oil.

The golden-yellow oil heated up rapidly at the bottom of the black iron pot.

A fine layer of oily ripples appeared on the surface.

Chen Yuan pinched the tail of the large yellow croaker.

Coat the fish with a thin layer of dry starch.

A flick of the wrist.

The whole fish was slid down the side of the pot into the boiling hot oil.

Sizzle—!

A deafeningly pleasant explosion.

White steam mixed with hot oil, splattering into a flower of oil in the pot.

The fish skin shrinks rapidly under the high temperature.

The fish fillet, cut open with a decorative knife, resembles a blooming chrysanthemum, curling outwards to take shape.

The crust is fried until golden brown and crispy, exuding a caramelized aroma of oil.

Chen Yuan steadily tossed the iron pot with his wrist.

Remove the fried fish and drain off the excess oil.

A little oil was left at the bottom of the pot.

Minced ginger and garlic are added to the pan, releasing a pungent and spicy aroma.

Followed by.

The vinegar, sugar, and soy sauce were poured in with an absolutely precise ratio.

Add a spoonful of water.

The sauce in the pot began to boil violently.

Gumbling.

The viscous, reddish-brown bubbles kept bursting.

An extremely overpowering sweet and sour aroma instantly exploded in the kitchen.

This flavor doesn't have the heavy, buttery taste of French cuisine.

Only by stimulating the appetite to its extreme can one achieve pure enjoyment.

Shen Wanzhou stood by the door.

Two toes were cramped and curled up inside the slippers.

She bit her lower lip hard, saliva gushing from her mouth.

My stomach let out a long, unpleasant rumble.

Chen Yuan put the fried yellow croaker back into the pot.

The iron pot in his hand bounced twice in mid-air.

The piping hot sweet and sour sauce evenly coats every inch of the crispy fish.

It was covered with an alluring amber-colored sheen.

Turn off the heat and plate the dish.

A steaming plate of sweet and sour fish is placed steadily on a long white porcelain plate.

"Wait for me on the deck."

Chen Yuan picked up the plate and turned his head to look at the cat that was almost crying from drooling.

His voice was deep and resonant, conveying an unyielding indulgence.

On the second open deck of the yacht.

The sea breeze caressed the white parasols.

Shen Wanzhou sat obediently in the rattan recliner.

He was holding a pair of pure silver chopsticks in his hand.

The sweet and sour fish was placed on the glass round table in front of me.

The heat was blown away by the river breeze.

The enticing sweet and sour aroma drifted uncontrollably across the surrounding water.

Shen Wanzhou couldn't wait to pick up a piece of tender meat from the back of the fish.

The outer layer is so crispy that it makes a soft crackling sound.

The fish meat inside is white, tender, and juicy, without any dryness.

The sweet and sour sauce melts on the tip of your tongue.

She squinted her eyes contentedly, her cheeks puffing out from chewing.

Chen Yuan sat opposite her.

He rested his chin on one hand.

His deep black eyes were fixed intently on her.

Occasionally, I would take a tissue and wipe away a drop of syrup from the corner of her lips.

In this quiet and warm moment.

On the water less than 30 meters from the Starship.

Another, even larger, all-black superyacht was docked there.

The ship's hull is inlaid with a string of Arabic script in pure gold.

On the top deck of the black and gold yacht.

A man wearing a white traditional robe and a red and white checkered headscarf.

He slammed his silver fork onto the deck in frustration.

The pure silver fork bounced twice before falling into the river.

He is a core member of the royal family of a Middle Eastern oil-producing country, Prince Salman.

It owns more than a dozen high-yield oil fields.

They truly regard money as dirt.

But at this moment, this prince, whose wealth was comparable to that of a kingdom, was so hungry that his eyes were practically glowing green.

The long table in front of him was covered with takeout orders from various Michelin-starred restaurants in Paris.

Truffle foie gras, caviar, slow-cooked steak.

He disgustedly pushed them all aside.

"Garbage! It's all garbage!"

Salman roared in broken English.

His beard trembled with anger.

"This steak tastes like chewing on a piece of oily wood!"

"This is the finest French food? It's an insult to my taste buds!"

The white chefs standing nearby were trembling with fear.

I knelt on the deck, not daring to even breathe.

Sudden.

A gentle breeze blew across the river.

The wind was blowing directly from the direction of the Starship.

A strange smell entered Salman's nostrils.

At first, it had a faint sour taste.

Then, the rich aroma of caramel mingled with the fresh scent of crispy fried fish.

It forcefully broke through the scents of the expensive perfumes on the yacht.

It pierced straight into his stomach, which had been empty all day.

Salman's roar abruptly stopped.

He sniffed twice.

His gray-brown pupils suddenly dilated, and his eyeballs were instantly covered with blood vessels.

His Adam's apple bobbed violently up and down.

"Gulp."

He swallowed a large mouthful of saliva.

At this moment, stomach acid was secreted frantically, and the stomach emitted a thunderous protest.

"What's this smell...?"

Salman was like a hungry wolf that had smelled blood.

He suddenly sprang up from the leather seat.

The chair was knocked over and fell to the ground.

He followed the scent.

It stumbled and crashed towards the edge of the yacht's railing.

He gripped the pure copper railing tightly with both hands, his knuckles turning white from the force.

Its neck was stretched out, and its eyes scanned the river surface like searchlights.

My gaze traveled across the thirty-meter-deep water.

They locked onto the white Starship.

To be more precise.

It was the white porcelain plate on the glass round table under the parasol that was locked onto.

In the plate.

Shen Wanzhou had already eaten almost half of the sweet and sour fish.

The golden sweet and sour sauce still gleamed enticingly in the sunlight.

The crispiest part of the fish tail lay quietly on the edge of the plate.

Salman's eyes widened in disbelief.

He could even see the thick sauce clinging precariously to the fish skin.

Saliva uncontrollably spilled from the corner of his mouth.

He was completely unaware that the drops had fallen onto his expensive white robe.

"Move the boat! Move closer!"

Salman turned his head and roared madly at the cockpit.

"Move over there immediately!"

The engine of the black and gold yacht emitted a deep roar.

The massive ship carved a white wave across the water.

With an overwhelming sense of oppression, they arrogantly approached the Starship.

The distance between the two yachts quickly decreased.

Twenty meters.

ten meters.

five meters.

A huge shadow fell over the deck of the Starship.

Shen Wanzhou's hand holding the chopsticks froze in mid-air.

She frowned slightly, her cool gaze passing through her sunglasses as she looked at the enormous vessel that had suddenly approached.

A hint of displeasure flashed in her eyes as she was interrupted from her meal.

Chen Yuan remained leaning back in his chair.

Her long, slender legs were casually crossed.

He didn't even change his sitting posture.

But those originally gentle black eyes instantly froze into a layer of bone-chilling frost.

The black and gold yacht had just come to a stop.

A dozen or so Middle Eastern bodyguards dressed in black suits with bulging pockets.

He jumped over the railing and onto the deck of the Starship.

The leather shoes slammed heavily onto the teak floor.

They spread out in a fan shape, completely surrounding the two people under the parasol.

His hand was already on the holster at his waist.

Surrounded by bodyguards, Salman strode onto the Starship.

He didn't even glance at Chen Yuan.

Those bloodshot eyes were fixed on the plate in front of Shen Wanzhou.

His eyes revealed a kind of irrational madness.

The eagle had appeared behind Chen Yuan like a ghost at some unknown time.

Scarface had no expression on his face.

His right hand was already gripping a tactical dagger at his waist.

As long as these Middle Easterners dare to take another step forward.

He guaranteed that these dozen or so people would be turned into a pile of dismembered limbs within three seconds.

But Salman didn't even look at the eagle.

He rushed to within two meters of the round table, but was stopped by the eagle's murderous aura.

He was breathing heavily, his eyes fixed on the remaining half of the fish tail on the plate.

Another loud swallowing sound came from his throat.

In the eyes of this prince who regarded money as dirt, that half-eaten piece of leftover food was more dazzling than any treasure in the world.

The Arab prince suddenly pulled a document from his pocket, so excited he was almost incoherent: "Sir! I'd trade a highly productive oil field in Dubai for just one bite of that half-eaten fish!"