He wants to adopt a younger sister, but his aloof wife disagrees.

Inside the car.

Shen Qingge looked through the car window at Ah Biao, who was looking rather foolish, and couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"Mr. Jiang, when did you learn that Fujian accent? And this Sky Capital... is it yours too?"

Shen Qingge looked at the man beside her, her curiosity growing stronger.

"I learned Fujianese from watching Hong Kong movies," Jiang Che casually made up (actually, it was a system skill). "As for Sky Capital..."

Jiang Che held her hand, gazing at the dazzling Singapore night view outside the window, his eyes deep and thoughtful.

"That's our armor on this new battlefield."

"Qingge, are you ready?"

"The storm in Southeast Asia has begun."

Shen Qingge grasped his hand in return, leaned on his shoulder, and looked at the bustling metropolis known as the "Garden City," a resolute glint flashing in her eyes.

"Ready."

"No matter what storms or tsunamis lie ahead, as long as you are here, I have nothing to fear."

As night fell, the Rolls-Royce convoy resembled a black dragon, winding its way along the Marina Bay Boulevard.

Meanwhile, in the brightly lit hillside manor in the distance, Song Wanyi, the eldest daughter of the Song family, was holding a glass of red wine, looking at the report sent by A Biao on her phone. The smile on her lips gradually froze, finally turning into a cold killing intent.

"Sky Capital... Jiang Che..."

"That's interesting."

"Then let's see whether your capital is stronger or the guns of the Song family are stronger."

...

...

The nights in Singapore are humid and ambiguous.

The glittering lights of Marina Bay are reflected on the dark sea, like a spilled palette of colors. The Raffles Hotel, a white Victorian building with over 130 years of history, located on Beach Road, stands out with remarkable tranquility and elegance amidst the surrounding skyscrapers. It's like a noblewoman in a white lace dress, detachedly observing the city's prosperity and its vices.

The financial power of "Sky Capital" is fully demonstrated here.

Jiang Che and Shen Qingge stayed in the hotel's most luxurious "Presidential Suite"—the Sarkies Suite. This suite retains the colonial style of the 19th century, with teak floors, Persian carpets, a four-meter-high ceiling, and a huge private balcony, exuding the luxury of an old-money family.

Are you tired?

Jiang Che took off his suit jacket, casually hung it on the hanger, walked behind Shen Qingge who was looking at the night view on the balcony, and gently wrapped his arms around her waist.

Shen Qingge took a deep breath, the air filled with the scents of frangipani and seawater. She shook her head, turned around, and rested her head against Jiang Che's chest, listening to his steady and powerful heartbeat.

"I'm not tired. It just feels... a little unreal."

Looking down at the lush tropical garden, Shen Qingge said softly, "Just a few hours ago, we were in the autumn wind of Beijing. Now we're standing under the moonlight of Southeast Asia. And... that Ah Biao, and the Song family's attitude, make me feel like there are eyes everywhere here, watching us."

"Let them stare," Jiang Che smiled, running his fingers through her long hair. "Before hunting, wild beasts always like to stare at their prey. But they don't know who the real prey is."

"Are you hungry?" Jiang Che changed the subject. "Although airplane food is exquisite, it always feels like it lacks a bit of heartiness. Since we're in Southeast Asia, we should at least try the local specialties."

"I want to eat Nyonya food." Shen Qingge's eyes lit up. "I heard that the Nyonya food here is very famous. It's a combination of Chinese cuisine and Southeast Asian spices, and the taste is very unique."

"Okay, let's go eat Nyonya food then."

Jiang Che took out his phone and casually browsed through it (actually, he was checking the Song family's businesses marked on the system map):

"We heard there's a restaurant nearby called Straits Mansion, which is a two-Michelin-starred establishment and a century-old restaurant in the area. Let's go there."

Jiang Che's lips curled into a playful smile.

The system showed that this "Straits Mansion" was one of the core businesses of the Song family, and also a facade used by the Song family to entertain distinguished guests and display their wealth.

If you're going to slap someone in the face, then go straight to their dinner table and do it.

……

Half an hour later, at the Straits Mansion.

This is a typical Peranakan-style building, located in a mint-green two-story terraced house in the Gatong district. Two huge red lanterns hang at the entrance, and the lintel is decorated with intricate carvings. Although it was already 9 p.m., the restaurant was still packed, mostly with local wealthy businessmen, celebrities, and foreign tourists.

Jiang Che led Shen Qingge into the hall.

They didn't make a reservation in advance, and according to the store's rules, the wait is usually a month.

But when Jiang Che slapped his black gold card with the "Sky Capital" logo on the front desk, the previously arrogant manager's expression instantly changed, and he immediately and respectfully led the two into the most prestigious private room on the second floor—"Orchid Flower Hall".

However, this happened shortly after the two of them sat down.

The door to the private room was pushed open.

Instead of a waiter, a slightly overweight middle-aged man in a white chef's uniform and a tall hat entered. Behind him were two kitchen helpers carrying a tray covered with a silver lid.

This man is Chef Huang, the executive chef of the Straits Mansion, and a trusted confidant of the Song family.

"Are you Mr. Jiang and Ms. Shen?"

Chef Huang wore a smile, but his narrow eyes revealed a shrewdness and malice: "I heard that you two are distinguished guests of Miss Song. She specially instructed that I would personally cook for you tonight. This first dish is a 'gift' from Miss Song to you two."

After he finished speaking, he waved his hand.

The kitchen helper behind him placed the tray on the table and lifted the silver lid.

A strong, even somewhat pungent, strange smell instantly filled the private room.

In the plate was a dark, sticky mass, resembling either black mud or some kind of charred entrails. A few chicken bones were stuck in the middle of this black mud, creating an extremely bizarre and even nauseatingly gruesome sight.

"This is..." Shen Qingge frowned, instinctively covering her nose. "What is this?"

"This is our most prestigious national dish in Southeast Asia – Ayam Buah Keluak (Black Fruit Chicken Stew)."

Chef Huang introduced the dish with a forced smile: "The 'black fruit' used in this dish is a real treasure. It grows in the swamps of Indonesia and is naturally highly poisonous. If it's not specially processed and fermented in volcanic ash for forty days, it will kill you if you eat it."

"The young lady said that this dish has a profound meaning."

Chef Huang looked at Jiang Che, his tone sarcastic:

"It symbolizes the soil and water of Southeast Asia—it looks dark and tastes bitter. If outsiders don't know the rules and eat it indiscriminately, they will get poisoned and their intestines will rot. But if it's our own people, once they get used to it, it's a delicacy."

"Mr. Jiang, Ms. Shen, please enjoy your meal. This is a special treat from the young lady."

This is a blatant provocation.

This is an implication to Jiang Che: the Southeast Asian business is poisonous, and you can't handle it.

Shen Qingge's face darkened, and she was about to lash out.

Jiang Che reached out and stopped her. He looked at the dark, unappetizing dish, but instead of getting angry, he smiled with interest.

"Braised chicken with black nuts?"

Jiang Che picked up a spoon, stirred the clump of black mud, and then brought it closer to smell it.

Suddenly, his face turned cold.

"Master Huang, right?"

Jiang Che put down his spoon, turned to look at the smug chef, and spoke in a fluent Baba Malay (a dialect of Peranakan Chinese) that would put even the locals to shame:

"Do you think I'm some country bumpkin from the north who doesn't know anything about Nyonya cuisine?"

Chef Huang was taken aback, clearly not expecting this young master from the capital to speak such a dialect.

"Mr. Jiang is joking..."

"Are you kidding?"

Jiang Che slammed his hand on the table, making the spoon in the plate jump.

"The key to this braised chicken with black berries is the perfect fusion of the berries and spices. The color should be black with a hint of red, and the aroma should be rich and sweet."

Jiang Che pointed at the dish, his tone sharp as a knife:

"The fruit in this dish wasn't ground enough, it's too grainy; there's too much blue ginger and lemongrass in the spices, which masks the truffle aroma of the black berries; and most ridiculously..."

Jiang Che picked up a clump of black mud with a spoon and sneered:

"These black berries weren't fermented properly at all! The cyanide toxins inside haven't been completely eliminated! They smell like bitter almonds!"

"You've brought us a plate of undercooked, poisonous food—are you trying to poison us, or ruin the century-old reputation of the Straits Mansion?!"

"Bang!"

Jiang Che slammed the spoonful of black mud onto Chef Huang's snow-white chef's uniform, leaving a shocking black stain.

"You...you..." Chef Huang was so frightened that he took two steps back, his face turning deathly pale.

He was indeed acting under Song Wanyi's orders, deliberately tampering with the food. But he never expected that this seemingly pampered young master was actually an expert! He could even smell that the black fruit wasn't fermented properly!

"What's wrong? Not saying anything?"

Jiang Che stood up, unbuttoned his cuffs, rolled up his sleeves, revealing a section of his strong forearm.

His gentle demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by an absolute domineering aura befitting a "God of Cookery".

"Since it's a Michelin two-star restaurant, and since it's the face of the Song family, then don't try to disgust people with this kind of stuff that even dogs wouldn't eat."

"Get out of the way."

Jiang Che pushed Chef Huang aside and walked straight out of the private room:

"Take me to the kitchen."

"Today, I'll teach you what real black nut braised chicken is."

……

The kitchen of the Straits Mansion was deathly silent at this moment.

Dozens of cooks and helpers stopped what they were doing and stared in disbelief at the handsome man in a suit and apron standing in front of the main stove.

Jiang Che did not use the ingredients here, but instead had people select the freshest chicken and top-grade black fruit from the cold storage.

【Ding! 】

[God-level culinary skills activated: Southeast Asian edition.]

[Current Recipe: Braised Chicken with Black Nuts]

Jiang Che moved.

His movements were so fast they were dazzling.

He processed the black fruit. Instead of scooping it out with a spoon like a typical chef, he gently tapped it with the back of a knife, splitting the fruit open to reveal the oily black flesh inside. He removed the flesh, mixed it with minced pork and special spices, and then put it back into the shell.

This step is called "stuffing," which is the most intricate and meticulous process in Nyonya cuisine.

Next comes the roasting of spices (Rempah).

Onions, garlic cloves, chili peppers, blue ginger, yellow ginger, lemongrass, nutmeg... more than a dozen spices instantly turned into a fine paste under his knife.

Heat the pan and add oil.

As the spices were added to the pot, a powerful and penetrating aroma burst forth, filling the entire kitchen and even wafting into the front hall.

"It smells so good..."

"What does this taste like? It's ten times more fragrant than Chef Huang's!"

"Oh my god, who is that man? His wok-flipping moves are so cool!"

Chef Huang stood in the corner, watching Jiang Che's smooth and skillful movements, cold sweat pouring down his forehead like a waterfall.

A true expert's skill is immediately apparent.

Jiang Che's control over the heat and his precision in the proportions of spices were simply godlike! He had been cooking Peranakan cuisine for thirty years, yet at this moment he felt a deep sense of inferiority in front of an outsider!

Twenty minutes later.

A dish of "Black Fruit Braised Chicken" is ready, with its glossy black color, thick broth that clings to the spoon, and an aroma so rich it makes you want to swallow your tongue.

Jiang Che plated the dishes, but instead of eating them himself, he presented them to Chef Huang.

"Try it," Jiang Che said casually.

Chef Huang, his hands trembling, picked up his chopsticks and took a piece.

The moment of entering the entrance.

His pupils suddenly dilated.

The unique aroma of black fruit, the tenderness of chicken, the spiciness of spices, and that unique, rich, and mellow aftertaste, like dark chocolate, explode perfectly in your mouth.

It has no bitterness and no toxicity whatsoever.

Only the most exquisite flavors.

"This...this..." Chef Huang's legs went weak, and he almost knelt down. "This is the authentic old-fashioned flavor...I lose...I'm completely convinced..."

Jiang Che took off his apron, threw it aside, wiped his hands, and resumed his aloof demeanor.

"Since you've lost, do me a favor."

Jiang Che pointed to the dish he had made himself:

"Pack."

"Deliver it to the Song family manor and hand it over to Song Wanyi."

Tell her.

Jiang Che's eyes turned icy cold:

"I, Jiang Che, can eat this dish, and I can also make it."

"Although the water and soil in Southeast Asia are toxic, in my hands, they're just a dish to accompany drinks."

"Let her try it, and while you're at it, tell her—"

"I will prepare an even bigger 'main dish' for her birthday banquet three days from now."

……

Back in the private room.

Shen Qingge looked at the man who returned with a touch of worldly warmth, her eyes overflowing with admiration.

"Resolved?"

"It's resolved." Jiang Che sat down and poured her a glass of warm water. "They're just a bunch of clowns, don't worry about them. I've had some light dishes made again, they'll be here soon."

"Mr. Jiang," Shen Qingge said, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at him, "you were so charming in the kitchen just now. I was thinking, if the Shen family goes bankrupt one day, we could really open a restaurant, and it would definitely become a global sensation."

"That won't do." Jiang Che smiled and took her hand. "My cooking is only for you. If others want to eat it? That depends on my mood, and... they'll have to pay extra."

That night, the guests at the Straits Mansion had the privilege of tasting a delicious meal they had never experienced before (Jiang Che casually gave instructions on a few dishes).

The packaged "Ultimate Black Fruit Braised Chicken" was delivered to the Song Family Manor overnight.

……

The Song Family Manor, the study.

Song Wanyi, dressed in a silk bathrobe, stared at the beautifully packaged takeout on the table, her face so gloomy it could drip water.

She took a bite.

Although it had cooled down, the exquisite flavor still bloomed on her tongue, mocking her incompetence.

"What a Jiang Che..."

Song Wanyi put down her chopsticks, a ruthless glint flashing in her eyes.

"Not only were they not poisoned, but they actually turned the tables on us?"

"You can cook Nyonya cuisine? And speak the local dialect?"

"It seems that this 'gold digger' from Beijing is much more difficult to deal with than I imagined."

"but……"

Song Wanyi stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the dark sea in the distance:

"What's the use of knowing how to cook?"

"This is Southeast Asia. Here, it's not about cooking skills, it's about guns, blood, and life."

"Since you won't listen to reason, you'll have to suffer the consequences."

"Then don't blame me for making you bleed on the spot at the birthday banquet."

She picked up her phone and dialed a hidden number:

"Hello, is this Black Shark?"

"I need to borrow some of your people in three days."

"Yes, it's Jiang Che."

"I want him to never return."