The Martial Arts Stunt Double of the Entertainment Circle – Chapter 20

Chen Wanwan agonized over it for half the day without producing anything like a plan, and finally steeled herself: she’d made this bed herself, so she couldn’t blame anyone else. Worst case, she’d go beg her Eldest Cousin’s forgiveness some other day. For now — food first.

The forgotten Zhao Mi hurried over with her things. Chen Wanwan said, “Mimi, we’re driving out for yakiniku.” Seeing Tuoba Yan step forward to take Zhao Mi’s load, she grabbed a share of it herself.

Zhao Mi was moved to the point of tears: “I can manage it myself.”

            

Chen Wanwan gave a theatrically impatient huff: “With those little arms of yours? You’d get them snapped. Then I’d be the one paying for your bone-setting and your hospital stay — and who’d run my errands then?” She snatched a makeup bag out of Zhao Mi’s hands.

Zhao Mi knew this was just Chen Wanwan’s way of showing she cared, and grinned. The three of them headed for the parking lot.

Chen Wanwan’s car was a beige Beetle, small and adorable, the perfect fit for a girl. The seat covers, the steering wheel cover, the cushions, the little ornaments — everything inside matched the body color. From a distance it truly looked like a little round, beige beetle.

            

Zhao Mi’s driving turned out to be remarkably skilled — steady and smooth, so gentle that the two in the back seat barely felt a bump the whole way. They drove straight to their destination, parked the car, and walked into a Japanese yakiniku¹ restaurant whose entrance was extremely well hidden.

The restaurant’s decor was rich with Japanese flavor. Neatly dressed servers in kimono bowed and greeted arriving customers in Japanese. Chen Wanwan was a regular here — she kept a long-term private room — and she told Tuoba Yan that the owner was an old friend of hers, with private channels for getting imported fresh Wagyu².

A middle-aged woman who clearly knew Chen Wanwan came bustling up to wait on them. At the private room’s entrance, the woman slid the door open and switched on the light. Tatami mats were laid out in tidy order, with a round sunken pit in the center and six cushions evenly spaced around a simply styled round dining table. In the middle of the tabletop sat a large grill grate.

            

Chen Wanwan kicked off her shoes first and took the innermost seat, beckoning Tuoba Yan in: “What are you standing around for? Come sit.”

Tuoba Yan was completely unfamiliar with the place and looked around with curiosity. It was the first time she had ever laid eyes on a Japanese-style interior. What little she knew of the Eastern Ocean island nation was almost entirely military — she knew the two countries bore deep and old grudges, but beyond that she understood very little.

General Tuoba had been stationed in the northwest her whole life. She had never once seen the sea, much less fought on it — and besides, back in those days the Eastern Ocean people had never warranted a second glance from the General, let alone from the entire civil and military court. All they’d dared was petty raiding along the coast, robbing fishermen — like a flea that bit you now and then just to be a nuisance. Every single time, the officers and men of the Great Yan Navy had beaten them until they howled for their daddies and mamas. Yet a few years later, scars healed and pain forgotten, they’d come hopping and shrieking right back.

            

Once the three of them were seated — since Tuoba Yan had never eaten Japanese cuisine, the ordering fell to Chen Wanwan, a veteran gourmand. She navigated the menu with practiced ease, everything in servings for four: “Little Mop can put it away. I’m ordering extra.”

The hostess lit the charcoal beneath the central grate, and shortly brought out a plate of meat.

Chen Wanwan introduced it: “Beef rib fingers — great chew. They’re marinated and seasoned in advance. If you like your flavors strong, pour on some soy sauce later — though theirs runs on the sweet side.”

            

She picked up a slice with her chopsticks and laid it on the grate. It hissed, flames curling over the raw meat’s underside, charring it fragrant, releasing an enticing, fresh-sweet aroma. Tuoba Yan could honestly eat anything — she was the easiest person in the world to feed — but even she felt her appetite jolt awake at that strange perfume, and unconsciously shifted her seat.

When the plate of rib fingers was nearly finished, a few knocks sounded, and the rice Chen Wanwan had ordered was brought in.

She cheered: “Yakiniku just isn’t right without rice.”

            

Then came thick-cut beef tongue, tender and dripping with juice; beef short ribs; an offal platter; and, capping it all, top-grade sirloin. Because the offal carried a strong gaminess, extra sauce was served alongside. The three of them ate and drank with gusto. Chen Wanwan, chewing on a springy, fragrant chunk of meat, boasted through a full mouth:

“They all say you have to watch your figure so the camera likes you. Not me, though. I’m one of those infuriating people who never gains weight no matter how much I eat, hahaha!” Insufferably punchable.

Tuoba Yan could tell the prices here had to be steep, so she didn’t feel comfortable truly letting loose. But she took a great liking to the house dipping sauces — she’d shred the meat with her chopsticks, lay it over her rice, pour sauce on top, mix it through, and eat in deep contentment. The bowls were small, so she polished off a full eight bowls of rice. At last Chen Wanwan sighed: “Little Mop, you really are a dude.”

            

Then the door knocked again. All three looked over — but what came in was not the hostess they’d expected. It was a tall, willowy beauty, long hair pinned up at the back of her head.

Her outfit was conservative enough, but that bewitching face, and the swaying, seductive roll of her walk — the whole impression was of a fox spirit³ playing at being a respectable housewife.

The woman’s gaze swept the room and paused on Tuoba Yan: “Wanwan, you come to my place and don’t even give your jiejie a heads-up? Kanako had to be the one to tell me. Your jiejie is heartbroken.”

            

“Heartbroken? You?” Chen Wanwan pursed her lips and made the introduction with maximum offhandedness: “Little Mop, this is the restaurant’s owner, Lin Huai.”

Lin Huai kicked off her shoes and extended a hand toward Tuoba Yan: “Hello, little sister. I’m Lin Huai. Come here often — your jiejie will comp your meals.”

Chen Wanwan rolled her eyes on the sidelines.

            

“Hello, Lin-jie. I’m Tuoba Yan.” Tuoba Yan shook Lin Huai’s hand. The woman’s palm was slick and smooth, her fingertips sliding suggestively through Tuoba Yan’s. Tuoba Yan’s smile went rigid as she forcibly pulled her hand back.

They exchanged a few pleasantries. Then Tuoba Yan suddenly remembered the sauce and asked Lin Huai: “Lin-jie, does the house dipping sauce go to takeout? I’d like to buy a few bottles to bring home… Of course, if that’s not allowed, never mind.”

Lin Huai was magnanimity itself: “Between sisters, who talks about buying? Kanako, go fetch our little sister Xiao Yan a box of the assorted dipping sauce.”

            

Kanako, who had been waiting outside all this while, answered and went.

“That’s not what I meant,” Tuoba Yan said quickly. “How could I take it for nothing? Boss Lin, just charge me the going price.”

“We give our regulars little gifts all the time,” Lin Huai said, lying through her teeth. “It’s nothing.”

            

Kanako returned with a boxed set of six bottles of sauce. Tuoba Yan genuinely thought this Lin Huai was rather odd — she’d declined several times over, and the woman still insisted on gifting it. There was nothing to be done; she accepted.

Then came one of the three urgencies⁴, and Tuoba Yan, a little embarrassed, asked after the washroom. Kanako pointed her the way, and she hurried off.

Chen Wanwan watched Tuoba Yan get out of earshot, then frowned: “I’m telling you, Lin Huai — Tuoba Yan is the person my Eldest Cousin has set her sights on. You’d best not get any crooked ideas.”

            

“What crooked ideas could I possibly have?” Lin Huai lounged lazily against the door. “The child simply looks sweet and well-behaved. She’s nice to look at, that’s all. Oh, right — isn’t your cousin Li Yanrao supposed to be frigid?”

“Don’t talk nonsense.” Chen Wanwan hemmed and hawed. “Wasn’t I sweet and well-behaved as a kid too?”

Lin Huai: “You?”

            

Chen Wanwan flushed with mortified fury: “What little brat isn’t a mischievous little terror with a dark history or two? I’m telling you, my Eldest Cousin really does have a thing for her. Weigh your options carefully.”

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