A song called "The You of the Past" has prompted the entire internet to beg me not to leav

In Beijing's Nanluoguxiang, there is a century-old brand called "Donglaishun".

The red-hot charcoal in the brass pot was burning brightly, while scallions and ginger slices simmered at the bottom of the clear broth.

Lin Yan was wearing a loose gray hooded sweatshirt, with the sleeves casually rolled up to her elbows.

With a flick of his wrist, he skillfully picked up a slice of hand-cut fresh mutton, as thin as a cicada's wing, and dipped it up and down in the boiling water.

Once the meat changes color, take it out, dip it in a rich sauce of sesame paste, chive blossoms, and fermented bean curd, and swallow it in one bite.

"That feels good."

Lin Yan sighed contentedly, picked up the chilled Arctic Ocean soda, and took a big gulp.

Shen Qingqiu, sitting opposite him, was wearing a beige sweater and black-rimmed glasses.

Gone is the fierce aura she exudes on the red carpet; she's more like a sophisticated and approachable older sister next door.

She slowly and deliberately poached the tripe, glancing at Lin Yan every now and then, a suppressed smile playing on her lips.

"You seem to have a lot of free time." Shen Qingqiu picked up a piece of cabbage. "These past three days, Chairman Li Mingchang's phone has been ringing off the hook with calls to my assistant."

"They said your counterattack went viral overseas, bringing great honor to the Chinese music scene, and they were going to give you a special contribution award, but you can't even be found anywhere."

"That old man just likes to make a show of things." Lin Yan ordered another plate of tofu. "There's no need for an award ceremony."

As the two were eating, the wooden door to the private room was carefully pushed open.

The studio's administrative director, Xiao Zhang, leaned halfway in, looking as if he'd seen a ghost.

"President Lin, President Shen. A group of people have arrived outside."

"Are the people from Xingyao here begging for food?" Lin Yan asked without looking up.

"No..." Xiao Zhang swallowed and pointed outside the door.

"They're foreigners. The blond old man leading them said his name was William Davis. He flew for over ten hours straight to our company. Old Liang didn't dare to receive him, so he brought him here directly."

Lin Yan put down her chopsticks and took out a tissue to wipe her mouth.

"That Grammy bigwig who barks like a dog on Twitter?"

"Yes, that's him. Chairman Li Mingchang is also with him, saying it's for international exchanges, and they're worried about a diplomatic incident."

Lin Yan glanced at the churning copper pot, then leaned back lazily in his chair.

"Xiao Zhang, go and talk to the lobby manager. This is a restaurant, not a market."

"Kick them out?" Xiao Zhang's eyes lit up instantly.

"What's the rush? We Chinese value class." Lin Yan pointed to the waiting area outside. "Tell them the hot pot restaurant is full. If they want to see me, they need to get a number and wait in line."

"Huh?" Xiao Zhang was completely dumbfounded.

Imagine having a two-time Grammy winner and a multi-million dollar international master sitting on plastic stools by the door with a group of workers who have just finished get off work, collecting their receipts?

This move was really ahead of its time.

"Do as he says." Shen Qingqiu pushed up his glasses, his tone calm, but his main message was unconditional protection of his own.

Xiao Zhang gritted his teeth, turned around, and ran out.

Outside.

William Davis, wearing a trench coat, was so cold his face turned blue.

The three foreign assistants behind him were trembling, while Li Mingchang next to him looked extremely embarrassed.

"Li, why won't Mr. Lin see me? I can apologize to his face!" William said anxiously, wringing his hands.

After listening to "Wanjiang" on repeat countless times, his arrogance had long since crumbled, and now all he could think about was his fervent exploration of this divine arrangement.

Xiao Zhang walked over and handed William a crumpled piece of thermal paper.

"What does that mean?" William asked, looking at the large "A45" on the label.

"Mr. Lin said if you want to see him, take a number. There are still forty-four tables ahead of you, so just wait patiently," Xiao Zhang translated, forcing himself to be polite.

William was stunned.

In which concert hall around the world isn't he treated like royalty? This is the first time in his life he's ever experienced taking a number and queuing.

The three assistants were about to explode, but William held them down.

"True masters all have tempers."

William gritted his teeth and actually walked to the red plastic stool, sat down resentfully, crossed his arms and put them in his sleeves, instantly transforming into an old man at the village entrance.

This wait lasted for a full two hours.

As William smelled the hot pot, his stomach growled with hunger, and his legs went numb from the cold, he finally heard the loudspeaker announce "A45".

The door to the private room was pushed open.

William strode in, his face beaming with excitement.

I thought it would be a high-level academic discussion, but instead I was met with a strong smell of mutton and sesame paste.

Lin Yan casually slumped in the chair and pointed to the empty seat opposite him.

"Sit."

He casually uttered a single word and pushed a freshly served "extremely spicy" hot pot base (double portion) in front of William.

"We welcome guests from afar; please try our authentic local flavors."

William hadn't even had a chance to voice all the profound questions he had about chords, counterpoint, and the pentatonic scale.

Lin Yan scooped a full bowl of mutton covered in red oil with a slotted spoon and forced it into his hand.

"Eat first, then talk." The message is one that leaves no room for refusal.

William stared at the bright red mutton and swallowed hard.

I endured it all just to get some guidance!

With a death-defying resolve, he picked up a piece of food with his chopsticks and put it in his mouth.

Three seconds later.

"Hiss—ha—!"

William's face instantly turned a deep purplish-red, revealing a mask of unbearable pain, and tears streamed down his face.

He frantically searched for water on the table, and Lin Yan thoughtfully handed him a glass of room-temperature Erguotou (a type of Chinese liquor).

"Water!" William didn't even look and gulped it down.

"boom!"

The 56-degree pure alcohol mixed with extreme spiciness undergoes a nuclear fusion in the foreigner's mouth.

William coughed violently and tears streamed down his face, his whole body curled up like a boiled mantis shrimp.

Where is the air of an international classical music master? It completely breaks down his defenses.

Shen Qingqiu calmly turned her head away, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

This man is stealing bamboo shoots.