The Unveiling of Secret Queen

Chapter 402: Chapter 402: Amadeus Yancey Brings ’Ordinary’ Instant-Boiled Mutton_1

Nathalie Quinlan didn’t know that the person she ran into casually at the Tsinghua University campus was also acquainted with Zayn Fisher.

She had already taken a car to a modest restaurant that someone had suggested, famous for its authentic lamb hot pot.

”Ms. Quinlan, we’ve arrived.”

The car stopped outside after entering a vintage alleyway, and they walked the rest of the way. It was Saturday, and it seemed Amadeus Yancey had brought her to a tourist attraction. The narrow alley bustled with tourists whose accents hailed from all corners, and the roadside was lined with tiny shops about ten square meters in size, selling porcelain, antiques, and even bead necklaces for ten yuan each.

She thought she would have to walk quite a while to reach the dining place he mentioned, but after a series of twists and turns, they had stopped in front of a courtyard home.

You could still hear the hustle and bustle of tourists talking on the street out front. Just a street away, this place turned out to be serenely quiet and leisurely.

There was even a large Osmanthus tree planted in front of the door.

The fragrance of the Osmanthus filled the air along the small path in October.

Alfred Garland seemed very familiar with this place, smilingly saying, ”Ms. Quinlan, this is it. This lamb hot pot is especially delicious; one might say it’s the most authentic in all of Beijing. You need to book a spot here half a year in advance; ordinary people can’t even get a taste.”

Nathalie Quinlan raised her eyes and looked at the green tiles and grey bricks of the eaves, casually saying, ”Hmm, I can see that.”

A courtyard house in Beijing, Silvania Ingram had bought one for her.

Nine digits.

The location wasn’t as good as this one, nor was it as big.

Having a restaurant in such a place that sells lamb hot pot is essentially private dining.

As long as the term ’private’ is attached, it’s not a place where just anyone can dine.

The price, well, it’s just as authentic as the flavor!

Ordinary people might never even hear the name of such places, nor would they appear on some review apps—after all, the average person can’t afford it, let alone critique the taste.

”Let’s go,” Amadeus Yancey said, familiar with the place, leading Nathalie Quinlan inside.

Nathalie Quinlan was indifferent; she could afford to eat here by herself, it was just that she couldn’t book a spot, so she followed casually.

Only Alfred Garland watched the two of them, one more casual than the other, and thinking back on his own little excitement, he touched his nose and followed them in with a huff.

The courtyard was as big as Nathalie Quinlan imagined, embodying the style of old Beijing. The decoration wasn’t exquisite, lacking the pavilions and towers of the south, but rather bearing the boldness of northern architecture.

The owner here seemed to be quite familiar with Amadeus.

As soon as they entered, the owner greeted them and couldn’t stop smiling when he saw Amadeus, frequently glancing her way, though Nathalie Quinlan couldn’t tell what was said.

Nathalie Quinlan didn’t really mind; she lazily scanned the surroundings with her dark eyes.

Soon the owner found them a private room with a vacant spot and brought over the pot.

Along with it came a dish of dipping sauce, fiery red and unlike the usual sesame sauce.

Amadeus’s elegant hand picked up the sauce dish, considerately placing it in front of the girl who sat there playing with her phone, admonishing in a low voice, ”It’s a bit spicy, if you can’t handle it later, tell me, and I’ll ask the owner to change it for you.”

Alfred Garland looked at the red oil dipping sauce that was sent up and his eyes couldn’t turn fast enough. His heart thought that if any other guests coming here saw this dipping dish, their eyes would pop out!

But that’s the way it is in Beijing, lovers of lamb hot pot all know this private kitchen has strict rules, forbidding this and that.

If you don’t follow the owner’s rules, don’t bother coming here to eat again.