Chapter Thirty-Seven: Could This Uncle Butler Be a Fraud?

The butler immediately stepped forward, already regretting his words—he truly wanted to slap himself. He knew very well the young master disliked excessive chatter, yet here he was, rambling on.

“I’ll give you a chance—invite that woman who was painting to join us for lunch,” Huangpu Shenqing said as he left the open-air balcony, leaving the butler alone in a daze. The woman who was painting? Who was she? A friend of the young master’s?

The butler hurriedly ran off, eyes wide open, determined not to overlook a single detail. Suddenly, his gaze landed on the woman engrossed in her painting—her temperament was refined yet distant, making her seem unapproachable. And yet, her beauty, revealed inadvertently, was truly stunning, as if she had bewitched the passage of time itself.

This must be the person the young master mentioned. He had to invite her, or his job might be on the line...

Shangguan Renran finished the final stroke on her painting and then signed her pen name, AiCo, in the lower right corner. She was preparing to leave—the beach had mostly emptied by now, with most people having gone for lunch. After all, it was nearly noon, and the sun was becoming harsh, climbing high into the sky. Fortunately, she had chosen a spot with some shade.

“Good day, miss,” the butler greeted her with a bow—she was now, in a sense, his benefactor.

“Oh, no, sir, may I ask what this is about?” Shangguan Renran asked in surprise, for she did not know him.

“I am the personal butler to Young Master Huangpu.”

“Huangpu? As in Huangpu Shenqing?” The Huangpu family was quite large and flourishing. Old Master Huangpu had several brothers, though the current head, Huangpu Rong, had only one son.

“Yes, indeed. Our young master would like to invite you to join him for lunch.”

“I’m sorry, but I really must be on my way. I wouldn’t want to trouble you,” Shangguan Renran declined politely. Who knew what overwhelming words Huangpu Shenqing might have in store for her?

“It’s no trouble at all, truly,” the butler insisted, his words tumbling out rapidly. “Our young master has specially studied the culinary arts—I can guarantee, his dishes are completely unparalleled...”

“This...?” Shangguan Renran was momentarily taken aback. Was this butler a fraud? How could the young master of the Huangpu family possibly cook? She might believe anyone else, but why would Huangpu Shenqing, of all people, take up cooking?

Could it be that the president of the Huangpu Corporation had a more leisurely workload than her own position as director at Shangguan Group? And she was on leave, no less!

“Miss, I’m telling the truth, I beg you to come!” Perhaps he had spent too much time with Young Master Mo Yi and Young Master Ouyang recently, for his skin seemed to have grown much thicker.

“Truly, I’m sorry,” she said, completely bewildered by the situation. She doubted very much that Huangpu Shenqing would have such a butler—surely this was a ruse.

Shangguan Renran hastened to pack up her things, intending to leave at once.

“Miss, please, have pity on us butlers—life is hard, no, life depends on our masters. If I fail to bring you over, my days ahead will be sheer misery!” The butler, nearly in tears, poured out his woes to her, even using honorifics to appeal to her sympathy.

“You’re sure you mean the Huangpu Shenqing I know? And you really are his butler?” She felt that ever since her return, everything had been beyond her expectations.

“I swear it,” the butler replied resolutely.

“All right, very well, I’ll go with you,” she relented, unable to bear the thought of this butler’s plight.

Who would have thought Shangguan Renran possessed such a humorous side? Had she caught it from someone recently? She gave herself a little shake, as if to rid her skin of goosebumps.

The butler helped her carry her easel and painting materials, and the two walked back, one behind the other.

“Young master,” the butler said, relieved—at last, his job was safe.

He set down the painting supplies and poured her some tea, resuming his proper duties as a butler.

“Mr. Huangpu?” Shangguan Renran asked, looking at the man emerging from the kitchen with a tray of tea, wondering if it was truly Huangpu Shenqing.

“There’s just one more soup, it’ll be ready in a moment.” This butler was somewhat useful after all. If he only knew how the butler had managed to bring her here, he might even be more inclined to fire him.

Since her arrival, the butler had lapsed into silence, performing his duties to perfection—no more words, no unnecessary questions, minimizing his presence.

“You may come to the table now.” Feeling a bit awkward, Shangguan Renran walked over.

Upon the broad, black dining table, there were six dishes and a soup: sweet and sour ribs, spicy lotus root cubes, diced chicken with chilies, fragrant spicy shrimp, dry pot potato slices, braised mackerel, and a silver ear mushroom dessert soup.

Why did it seem as though most of these were her favorites?

“Mr. Huangpu, what inspired you to cook today?”

After sitting down, Shangguan Renran looked at the man in the gray loungewear, puzzled.

The butler, standing at the side, pricked up his ears—he was eager for the answer himself. When Young Master Ouyang had asked if his own young master really was learning to cook, he had replied yes—and then, there had been a long, awkward silence.

“Didn’t you notice, Ranran?”

Hmm?

Notice what?

“These dishes—they’re all your favorites,” Huangpu Shenqing said, handing her a bowl of rice he had just served.

Shangguan Renran accepted it and began eating quietly, feeling incredibly uneasy. So they really were all her favorites.

The butler’s eyes widened—he’d guessed this woman was a friend of the young master, but were they truly this close? The young master had cooked for her personally? And prepared all her favorite dishes?

“Butler, aren’t you eating?” Shangguan Renran, feeling awkward, tried to break the strange silence.

“Butler? Uncle?” Huangpu Shenqing’s tone hinted at danger. Ranran had never addressed him so affectionately.

“No, miss, please enjoy your meal. There are dishes for me in the small kitchen.”

But there were no dishes for him in the small kitchen—the other servants were on leave, and only he, the butler, was left, supposedly to teach the young master how to cook. For the past couple of days, he had been living off whatever the young master let him taste, because he was tasked with sampling the dishes. It was a tale best told in tears.