"No, you’ve already given plenty." Cecilia had to reply like this. Of course, coming across a custor like today made him very happy because after finishing there’s usually so chatting, and then the workday ends. Isn’t it nice to go ho early to relax?
So if you have two custors in front of you, one offering double and another offering five tis, anyone would choose the one offering five tis the amount, right?
But saying he prefers the custor who offers five tis is definitely not acceptable, because such custors are very rare indeed.
"It’s just that this custor booked with two days in advance; I can’t cancel it." Cecilia didn’t know how to put it; he just felt that Fifth Master Foster’s gaze was strange, making him uncomfortable.
Cecilia and Fifth Master Foster exchanged a glance, and Cecilia quickly lowered his head.
Because the gaze from Fifth Master Foster was odd, he couldn’t quite describe it but felt as if a stone were pressing on his chest, causing discomfort and distress.
Fifth Master Foster was uneasy; he never expected sothing like this would happen.
He was completely unaware and hadn’t thought about these matters at all.
The Foster Family residence affairs were all handled by the housekeeper; when he felt discomfort and soreness, the housekeeper would bring in a massage therapist. If such trivial matters required his attention, it would be absurd.
But the issue was that he really did mind.
Fifth Master Foster looked at the petite Cecilia, thinking that Cecilia must see him as stingy and not generous at all.
Almost feeling a bit like he was about to die of frustration.
Had he already been seen as a miser by Cecilia?
"Next ti, I’ll give you ten tis the amount." Fifth Master Foster thought this might redeem a little of his dignity; with ten tis the pay, Cecilia should be very happy.
"No, no, I really can’t accept it; the money goes to the counter." The part she received was only one-third, and double was already quite generous. Where would ten tis co from? After all, this is a very formal wellness club, not a place where money is thrown around like in nightclubs.
"I’m a bit hungry. Co back ho with for a al, then rest a bit and help with a massage." It sounded as if Fifth Master Foster hadn’t heard a word Cecilia said and was already getting ready to leave.
That’s just how Fifth Master Foster was; if he thought Cecilia should help him with a massage, he had to find Cecilia, and if he felt hungry, he had to eat imdiately.
The people around rushed to call back to the housekeeper, informing them that Fifth Master Foster was coming back for a al, telling the kitchen to prepare quickly.
Cecilia watched as everyone surrounded Fifth Master Foster like stars surrounding the moon, heading out. Suddenly, the man walking in the center of the crowd stopped, turned around, and said to him: "Hurry up..."
Cecilia had no choice but to follow in front of everyone’s watchful eyes.
The housekeeper calculated the ti and told the kitchen to prepare more dishes quickly since what Fifth Young Master was having was essentially breakfast combined with lunch, and his appetite might be better, so it was wise to make a few extra dishes.
As soon as the kitchen heard Fifth Master Foster wanted to eat, they sprang into action.
With images of bustling activity hidden from the outside, they began fishing seafood out of the oxygenated tank, selecting the tenderest leaves, simring soup with a charcoal stove and clay pot amidst all the clamor, which no one outside could see.
The entire courtyard remained calm and quiet, with large open fireplaces burning brightly at every corner, warming the surroundings. The air carried a faint scent of daffodils, with petite yellow and white blossoms looking fresh and endearing.
Having left in the morning with a gloomy face, Fifth Master Foster’s mood was evidently much better by now, like a child who’d had his toy snatched but ran out to take it back, looking triumphant with a bounce in his step.
Passing through the corridor adorned with glass lamps, they went straight to the dining room.
Even the kitchen staff knew that Fifth Master Foster couldn’t bear hunger, so from the ti his bodyguards called until Fifth Master Foster stepped inside, it took no more than half an hour, yet the table was already laid out with all his favorites.
Everyone in the kitchen knew that Fifth Master Foster couldn’t tolerate hunger.
Looking at the array of delicacies, only the kitchen staff understood that this took more ti than dishes from a grand restaurant.
The turbot rolls were made with the freshest turbot; every bone ticulously removed with tweezers, chopped into fine bits, mixed with finely minced chicken, shiitake shreds, and sprinkled with a touch of pepper. Wrapped in bean curd skin and fried. The frying was all about precision—a big fla would burn the skin, a small fla would leave the fish undercooked. It had to be just right—golden and crispy outside, with tender, sweet fish inside, almost a maddening task.
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