Chapter 3

On the day the branch opened, George invited more than twenty tables of people.

Firecrackers, floral stands, ribbon-cutting—it was lively all morning.

He invited all the flagship restaurant’s regular customers over too, saying, “New store opening, welcome everyone to come support us.”

I went too.

Standing in the crowd, I watched him talk onstage, all “brothers united” and “grateful to have you.”

After he finished, he threw an arm around my shoulder for a photo and posted on social feed: “Biological brothers starting a business together. Grateful!”

The comments were all likes.

My mom left a comment below: “Both kids have made it now. Aunt is so happy.”

I looked at that comment and didn’t like it.

At noon, the first round of guests sat down.

I stood by the kitchen door for half an hour, watching the servers carry dish after dish out.

Broth base went out, dipping sauce went out, meat slices went out.

Everything looked perfectly normal.

But I knew the problem had already been planted.

And sure enough, three days later—

The branch manager sent a message in the group chat: Mr. Walker, a customer is complaining that the flavor is off.

George didn’t take it seriously. “Some picky people. Normal.”

Two days later, the manager sent a string of screenshots, all bad reviews from Dianping.

“Totally different from the flagship restaurant. Did they change the chef?”

“The broth base is bland, not fragrant, and there’s no aftertaste.”

“I’m a regular customer of the flagship restaurant. This branch is such a disappointment.”

That’s when George finally panicked.

He tagged the kitchen supervisor in the group chat: What’s going on?

The kitchen supervisor replied: “Mr. Walker, the recipe was made exactly according to what you gave us.”

George: “Impossible! The recipe is the same as the flagship restaurant. How could the taste be off?”

The supervisor didn’t reply again.

My phone buzzed. It was a private message from the supervisor: Ethan, what the hell is going on?

I didn’t answer.

That night, George called me.

“Ethan, come to the branch tomorrow and see if there’s a problem with the kitchen operations.”

“Okay.”

The next day I got to the branch and walked through the kitchen.

The equipment, process, and staff were all up to the flagship restaurant’s standards. Nothing looked wrong.

In front of George, I had the cook make a pot of broth base mix.

When it was served, George tasted it himself.

His face changed.

“The flavor’s off.”

I said nothing.

He tasted it again, then looked up at me.

“Ethan, is there something wrong with the recipe?”

“The recipe’s fine,” I said. “The ingredients are the problem.”

“The ingredients are the problem? Aren’t they all transferred over from the flagship restaurant?”

I looked at him and didn’t answer.

He froze for a few seconds, then shot up out of his seat.

“Did you fucking switch the ingredients?”