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

The glossy black caviar dripped down the expensive European-style vintage wallpaper.

It left behind greasy, sticky stains.

The old tycoon lay sprawled among the shards of porcelain scattered on the floor.

His withered fingers gripped the edge of the Persian carpet tightly.

The crevices under my fingernails were filled with debris and dust.

The lingering echoes of her wailing reverberated through the empty halls of the ancient castle.

His mind was filled with images of fried rice coated in golden egg yolk.

The aroma created by the perfect collision of carbohydrates and oils eroded his senses like a poison.

He would rather give up half of his remaining wealth to exchange for a leftover meal from that Chinese man's pot.

But it was all too late.

Aside from the desolate silence of the room and the despair of bankruptcy, no one responded to his cries.

The image appears to have been severed by a sharp blade.

It instantly transcended time and space.

Paris, France, city center.

A gentle breeze from the Seine flows through the slightly open floor-to-ceiling windows.

The pure white French-style curtains fluttered in the breeze.

Inside this luxurious penthouse suite overlooking the entire Eiffel Tower.

The temperature control system operates quietly.

On the three-meter-long white marble dining table, there was a French breakfast meticulously prepared by the hotel's executive chef, who got up at five in the morning.

The freshly baked butter croissants exude a rich, milky aroma.

It is served on the side with top-quality black truffle foie gras.

There was also a crystal ice bowl filled with the exact same Caspian caviar that Duke Louis had smashed.

Her long hair was casually tied back with a jade hairpin.

She walked barefoot on the soft cashmere carpet.

He was holding a small, pure silver fork in his hand.

The cool, clear brow bone gradually converges towards the center.

She looked at the mountain of expensive ingredients in front of her, but made no move.

Under Chen Yuan's divine culinary skills, he fed the baby day and night.

Her stomach, which had once suffered from anorexia nervosa, had long been pampered and spoiled.

This table is laden with what others would consider top-tier delicacies.

At this moment, all that entered her nasal cavity was a heavy, pungent smell of butter and the raw, cold taste of seafood.

A subtle, astringent feeling rose uncontrollably in my stomach.

She forced back the discomfort rising in her throat.

Use a silver fork to pick up a tiny bit of caviar and bring it to your lips.

The cold fish roe just touched the tip of my tongue.

She immediately turned her head away and moved the fork away.

Clang.

The silver fork landed on the edge of the bone china plate, making a crisp clinking sound.

Shen Wanzhou's fair fingertips pushed against the edge of the plate.

They pushed that breakfast, which cost tens of thousands of euros, outwards by a dozen centimeters.

Chen Yuan sat opposite her.

He was wearing a black shirt without any markings.

The sleeves were rolled up at the forearms, revealing firm and smooth muscle lines.

He keenly caught the sound of the porcelain plate sliding.

He looked away from the foreign financial newspaper in his hand.

His deep black eyes landed precisely on her slightly pale face.

"Not to your liking?"

Chen Yuan folded the newspaper and placed it aside.

He stood up and strode over to her side.

Warm, large hands naturally covered her slender back.

I gently stroked along the spine twice, following its natural lines.

The warmth from her palm gradually dispelled the chill in her stomach.

Shen Wanzhou tilted her head back to meet the man's gaze.

Those sparkling peach blossom eyes revealed a touch of sleepy innocence.

"This foie gras is too rich."

She muttered softly, her nose wrinkling slightly.

"Then let's remove it."

Chen Yuan didn't even have the interest to glance at the food on the table.

He turned and walked toward the open kitchen area.

"Want something light? I'll make you a bowl of plain noodles."

Shen Wanzhou shook her head.

The pale toes rubbed restlessly inside the soft-soled slippers.

"I don't want to eat noodles."

She held the glass of warm water in front of her with both hands, her fingertips tracing the inside of the glass.

"I want to drink plain rice porridge."

Chen Yuan stopped and turned to look at her.

"I want the kind that's cooked until soft and sticky, like the ones in China."

Shen Wanzhou bit her lower lip and continued to make her demands in a soft, sweet voice.

"There's also a thick layer of rice oil floating on top, the kind that warms you up in your stomach when you drink it."

Chen Yuan walked back to the table.

His long, slender fingers gently rubbed the top of her head.

"The rice in European supermarkets is no good."

He stated the facts in a calm tone.

"The rice they usually use to make risotto has a different starch structure."

"Even if you cook it in a clay pot for three hours, the rice will still be undercooked."

"I can't make that thick rice porridge you want."

Upon hearing this, Shen Wanzhou's shoulders slumped slightly.

The bright expectation in her eyes dimmed slightly.

"oh."

She gave a muffled reply.

Holding the water glass with both hands, I lowered my head.

All that was left for Chen Yuan was a fluffy top of his head.

It's okay if you can't drink it.

When you're in a foreign country, you can make do with many things.

But the emptiness in my stomach was mixed with that spoiled, pampered air.

It still made her eyes sting slightly.

"Actually, it's okay if I don't drink it; I'll just drink some warm water."

She tried to explain sensibly.

"Drinking water on an empty stomach will make my stomach feel worse."

Chen Yuan's voice was deep and domineering, brooking no argument.

He casually picked up the plate of black truffle foie gras.

Without any hesitation.

Rotate your wrist.

Splash!

The expensive foie gras, along with the truffle sauce, landed precisely in the smart trash can next to it.

Next came caviar and croissants.

Less than a minute.

The three-meter-long marble dining table was spotless.

Shen Wanzhou watched his series of actions.

Her peach blossom eyes widened slightly.

Why did you throw it all away?

"It takes up space and is an eyesore."

Chen Yuan grabbed a disinfectant wipe and slowly wiped the oil off his fingers.

He looked at her pitiful little face.

It felt like a feather gently brushing against the depths of my heart.

In the dictionary of this dark web ruler.

He never asked his wife to "make do".

His woman wanted a bowl of plain rice porridge with some rice oil on it.

Let alone being separated by the Eurasian continent.

Even if it's across the Milky Way, he still has to plant the seeds in outer space.

Chen Yuan didn't say anything unnecessary.

He put one hand into the pocket of his black suit trousers.

He pulled out that specially made, encrypted, pure black phone.

The screen lit up with a cold, bluish light.

The light shone on his well-defined jawline.

Press the quick call button with your thumb.

The beep lasted only half a second.

The call was connected immediately.

"Brother Yuan."

The eagle's steady and powerful voice came through the receiver.

Chen Yuan's gaze swept over the empty plates on the table.

His eyes revealed an undeniable coldness.

For him, it meant mobilizing transnational resources to transport rice.

It's as common as going downstairs to the convenience store to buy a bag of salt.

The morning sunlight cast their overlapping shadows on the carpet.

Chen Yuan pressed the call button and issued the order in a cold voice: "Eagle, activate emergency flight route number one. Within two hours, I need a supersonic passenger plane loaded with this year's newly harvested Wuchang rice from Northeast China to land at Paris Airport."