October 1978. The Golden Pavilion.
The morning sun filtered through the wooden lattice windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.
Xiao Tian stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of his miniature western-style shirt. He looked at the six-year-old reflection with critical eyes.
Yesterday had been day zero. He had spent twenty-four hours quietly observing, asking innocent questions, and reading every newspaper he could find in his late father's study.
He had the data. The Date: October 1978. The eve of the Reform. The Asset: The Golden Pavilion. A goldmine run by a woman with too much heart and not enough leverage. The Liability: His age.
In 1978, a six-year-old boy holding money was a target. No one would do business with him. No bank would open an account for him.
"But I don't need a bank account yet," Xiao Tian whispered, smoothing his hair. "I have something better. A proxy."
He thought of his mother, Lin Meifeng. She didn't trust him with money because he was a genius. She gave him things because she was obsessively, blindly doting. She was the type of mother who would hand her son a knife if he cried for it, just to make him stop crying.
"Leverage the affection," Xiao Tian finalized his strategy. "Use her authority as my shield."
The Main Hall. 10:00 AM.
Lin Meifeng was sitting at the counter, frowning at a ledger. The stress of managing the restaurant alone was etching fine lines around her beautiful eyes.
"Mom!"
Xiao Tian ran down the stairs, putting on his best 'excited child' face. He threw himself into her arms.
"Tian'er!" Her frown vanished instantly. She hugged him tight, inhaling the scent of baby powder. "Careful running on the stairs! Are you hungry? Do you want a sugar bun?"
"I'm not hungry," Xiao Tian said, looking up at her with big, glistening eyes. "I had a dream about Dad last night."
Lin Meifeng froze. Her eyes softened, shimmering with unshed tears. "You... you dreamt of your father?"
"En," Xiao Tian nodded vigorously. "Dad was cooking. He showed me a secret dish! He told me I have to make it today, or... or the restaurant will lose luck!"
It was shameless manipulation. But Xiao Tian knew his audience. Lin Meifeng was superstitious and missed her husband dearly.
"A secret dish?" Lin Meifeng wiped her eyes. "But baby, you can't cook. The kitchen is dangerous."
"I won't cook!" Xiao Tian pleaded, grabbing her hand. "I just want to tell Uncle Liu how to do it! Dad told me exactly how! Please, Mom? Just for today? Dad said it's important!"
He squeezed her hand, giving her a trembling lip.
Lin Meifeng's heart melted into a puddle. How could she refuse her son when he was talking about his late father? Even if he just wanted to make a mess in the kitchen, she would let him destroy a hundred cabbages if it made him happy.
"Alright, alright," she kissed his forehead. "My little boss. Go."
She raised her voice, shouting toward the kitchen.
"Head Chef Liu!"
Chef Liu poked his head out, looking confused. "Madame?"
"Tian'er wants to play in the kitchen today," she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument. "He says he has a 'recipe' from his father. Do whatever he says. Use whatever ingredients he wants. If he wants to stir the pot, you hold his hand so he doesn't burn himself. Understand?"
Chef Liu looked at the six-year-old. He wanted to protest—the kitchen was busy, ingredients were expensive—but looking at Lin Meifeng's fierce, protective glare, he swallowed his words.
"Yes, Madame," Liu sighed. "Come on, Young Master. Let's go... play."
The Kitchen.
The kitchen was loud and hot. Chef Liu lifted Xiao Tian onto a sturdy wooden stool so he wouldn't get trampled.
"Alright, Young Master," Liu said patiently, treating him like a toddler. "What did your 'Dream Dad' tell you to make? Sweet and sour pork? Dumplings?"
Xiao Tian's innocent smile vanished the moment he was out of his mother's earshot. He looked at the bin where the chefs were tossing fish heads.
"That," Xiao Tian pointed. "Stop throwing those away."
"The fish heads?" Liu frowned. "Young Master, those are trash. We only serve fillets."
"Uncle Liu," Xiao Tian said, his voice dropping the babyish act. "Mom said you have to listen to me."
"I know, but—"
"Do rich people eat because they are hungry?"
Chef Liu blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the boy's tone. "Well... no. They eat for taste."
"No," Xiao Tian shook his head, his eyes gleaming with a cold, adult intelligence. "They eat for Face. They eat for Story."
He pointed at the bin.
"This is trash to you because you look at it as a cook. But if you give it a name... if you call it 'Dragon Seeking the Pearl'... it becomes a legend. Can you cook it?"
Chef Liu scratched his head. He looked at the boy, then at the bloody fish heads. The order from Madame was absolute: Do whatever he says.
"I mean... I could," Liu admitted reluctantly. "The cheek meat is actually the best part. But the smell is strong. It's too fishy for a high-end table."
"You are the Head Chef," Xiao Tian said simply. "You solve the smell. I solve the customer. If you make it look expensive—maybe bright red, for good luck—I can sell it for double the price of the fillet. That's what Dad said."
Chef Liu frowned, his culinary brain starting to turn despite his skepticism. "Red... good luck... to hide the smell I'd need heavy aromatics. Maybe if I used that jar of fermented salted chilies? And steamed it with ginger and scallions? The spice would kill the fishiness, and the red chilies would look festive..."
Xiao Tian smiled. He didn't know a thing about chilies or steaming. He didn't need to. He just needed to provide the vision.
"Do it," Xiao Tian commanded softly. "Make it look like an Emperor's meal. I'll handle the marketing."
Chef Liu sighed. "Alright, Young Master. We'll try one. But if your mother gets mad about the wasted chilies, you're taking the blame."
The Dinner Rush.
The Golden Pavilion was packed. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the sound of officials toasting with Maotai.
Xiao Tian sat at a small table in the corner with his family. But his eyes were locked on Table 3.
Table 3 hosted Director Wang of the Sanitation Bureau. A fat man with a red face, known for shutting down restaurants for bribes.
"This pork is too sweet!" Director Wang shouted, slamming his chopsticks down. "Is this a dessert shop? Maybe I should inspect your kitchen's hygiene instead!"
The threat hung in the air. A hygiene inspection meant a shutdown.
Lin Meifeng rushed over, pale. "Director Wang, please..."
"No need!" Wang waved his hand. "I've lost my appetite."
Xiao Tian wiped his mouth with a napkin. He slid off his chair.
"Xiao Tian, sit down!" his sister Xiao Wan hissed.
He ignored her. He walked to the kitchen pass. Chef Liu had just finished plating the experiment. It looked terrifyingly red, covered in a mountain of chopped chilies, steam rising off it aggressively.
"It's ready," Chef Liu whispered, looking nervous. "But it's very spicy."
"Perfect," Xiao Tian said. "Spicy makes people thirsty. Thirsty people buy alcohol."
He grabbed the heavy porcelain dish.
He walked to Table 3.
"Director Wang!" Xiao Tian chirped, his voice ringing out like a silver bell.
The fat official looked down, surprised.
"Uncle Wang," Xiao Tian smiled, placing the dish on the table. "My mother heard you were unhappy. She was furious at the kitchen!"
"Oh?"
"Yes! She said a man of Director Wang's stature shouldn't be eating common pork," Xiao Tian lied effortlessly. "So she ordered Chef Liu to release the 'Reserve Menu'."
"Reserve Menu?" Wang raised an eyebrow.
"It's my late father's concept," Xiao Tian lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "He said that the fillet is for the common man, but the 'Crown'—the head—is for the leader. It represents wisdom and authority."
Xiao Tian pointed at the fish head staring up from the chilies.
"We call it 'Dragon Seeking the Pearl'. We usually save it for the Deputy Mayor Ye, but... Mom said you deserve it."
Flattery. Exclusivity. Legacy.
Director Wang's ego was stroked perfectly. "Hah! Wisdom and authority... well said!"
He picked up his chopsticks. "Let's see if the taste matches the name."
He dug into the cheek meat, coated in Chef Liu's heavy chili paste. He took a bite.
Xiao Tian watched. He had no idea if it tasted good. He only knew that the story tasted good.
Wang chewed. His eyes widened. Sweat instantly beaded on his forehead from the heat.
"Hah!" Wang exhaled sharply. "Strong! Spicy! The meat is like silk, but the fire... this is a man's dish!"
"It creates a lot of internal heat," Xiao Tian added innocently. "Uncle, you should balance it. Maybe with the 20-year-old Yellow Wine? It cools the fire."
"You're right!" Wang roared, his face red with pleasure and capsaicin. "Bring two bottles! The expensive stuff!"
The crisis dissolved.
Lin Meifeng stood frozen, watching her six-year-old son turn a hostile official into a loyal patron using a pile of fish bones and a lie.
Xiao Tian walked back to his table and picked up his rice bowl.
"What did you do?" Xiao Wan whispered, staring at the feast on Wang's table.
"I didn't cook anything," Xiao Tian said quietly, taking a bite of broccoli. "I just packaged the trash."
He looked at his mother. She wasn't looking at him like a child anymore. She was looking at him with a mix of confusion and dawning realization.
Trust establishing.Capital access: Pending.
Now, he just needed to deal with the school.