It was controlled, dignified chaos.
Lunch had been harried, with more guests than ever before, and very little time to breathe before the Afternoon Tea began at two thirty. This was when he was more pastry chef, working magic into his diverse creations, so every dish had maximum effects in style and taste.
Ye Zun had wanted each one so eye-catching they were ready to be photographed and added to a host of online platforms, making Dixing stand out, against the restaurants with foreign head chefs. All of them dainty and precise, with flavor and incandescent color at the center of the design, from his top selling Madagascar vanilla and orange nut boats to the rose tea infused ganache.
Everything was whimsical, built around to quote Ye Zun, "Mind-blowing shapes" and paired with tea from all over the world. It seemed that this three-year trend was only going to soar, with every place in China competing to be more alluring and more dynamic every year.
Six o'clock was a miracle each and every day, a reprieve from the chaos. Shen Wei stepped into the main floor of the restaurant and just breathed, rubbing his neck.
They had dreamed of this place for years. All through culinary schools, poverty and new jobs. It had always been their greatest triumph, joy and passion, weaving stories and history through every inch of the wide rooms. In the food they served. Dixing was blood and tears. Hope and the only home they had ever known.
It was his now. Ye Zun was present in every part, his presence with Shen Wei in every motion and decision. It felt off-kilter now. No longer home. He pivoted on his heels and walked further into the main room. The building had been a club in the thirties, with crooners and a dance area, more alcohol than food, mixing tradition with modern even then. When they had bought the run-down building, had needed to adapt their original vision, according to the space and cost.
So, the theme became Yin and Yang. The extrovert with a love of partying and gold. The introvert with a love of books and crafted dark wood. It was their love of period dramas, a little bit of glitz and functionality. A glossy black stone floor, with splashes of blue, startlingly white walls where at the back they had painted calligraphy in blue paint.
Spelling their names and the words that summed up their vision for Dixing, in one afternoon after work had ended. Ye Zun's half was white stone tables, gold and glass, with a hint of French chic. Shen's was the reverse with dark wood tables, lush plants, chrome and amber-like chandeliers that dominated the high ceilings. In the center was the revamped thirties bar top in white and black, with gold finishing.
He overlooked the long white stone table where the actress would dine in a few hours and moved into the other half, stopping at table twelve. The last time he had felt this nervous was the night before the restaurant reopened nearly a year ago. The first night without Ye Zun and the first time he had stepped in as Head Chef. A step he could only have taken thanks to Zhao Yunlan.
To say that the time after the park and before the reopening had been rough would be a ridiculous understatement. His nights had been spent with nightmares and guilt, plagued by dark memories of the brother he so desperately missed, while his days had been spent fighting to breathe.
The landlord had wanted Ye Zun's things removed from his apartment, as the lease was nearly up, the lawyers had been dragging their feet and the restaurant's survival was looking dire. Everyone, even his own staff had been ready to write Dixing off, some even walked saying that without Ye Zun there was no Dixing. Every blow had hurt, every loss had felt like his failing until he wondered if maybe losing Dixing was the right step.
Until Zhao Yunlan. Shen had discovered that alcohol didn't really help keep the nightmares at bay and talking to a counselor was difficult, his throat closing every time she asked him to address Ye Zun's mental health problems. The question "Had he tried to end his life before?" had him walking out the door, never looking back. Old Chu and the others had thought he was still going, but he just couldn't face it. What did help was listening to Zhao Yunlan.
Somehow that connection at the park had remained and only strengthened with every song.
Most of Zhao's videos especially his early ones were dedicated to simply playing, but others were demonstrations, teaching videos really but Zhao Yunlan clearly stated he was not a teacher, with a pointed finger and wicked grin.
The sound of the cello or violin was soothing and sometimes he would play gupin or a strange instrument called the Cretan lyre. But it was his voice that calmed Shen. He was bold, cheerful without being too much and often quite funny. That voice resonated and flowed around Shen Wei, who would lie on his side, watching the video or just standing at the counter in his kitchen, listening and breathing as the tea steeped. Ye Zun would have been shocked, borderline horrified that someone could have this much power over Shen Wei, that he would keep reaching for Zhao Yunlan as a lifeline. Not their friends. No one else.
The big moment came with arguments over the position of Head Chef. Old Chu wanted him to take the position, others were recommending a new recruit that could bring another maybe famous name or to promote one of the other talented chefs. Every option was sending Shen Wei further into an emotional earthquake, where doubt, grief and insecurities became an internal maelstrom of pain, until he was left sitting on the floor, attempting to pack Ye Zun's things into treasure boxes and charity containers, with tears blurring his vision.
He had been so startled when the playlist changed the track, from the tragedy Zhao had been playing on violin, to a new video. A TV interview Zhao Yunlan was giving after his success at a charity ball. Before he realized it fully, he had risen from the floor surrounded by books and had picked up the tablet, staring at Zhao's handsome face. His finger hovered over the button to move on, back to music, but something made him stop. Zhao was sitting on an uncomfortable stool clearly facing the interviewer, with a studiously relaxed expression that to Shen Wei hinted that he might be nervous.
Zhao Yunlan had suddenly grinned, flashing that dimple that made Shen Wei go weak, as he wiped his eyes. He was holding in those long talented fingers, a piece of paper and read aloud "So, why the cello and the violin?"
He had laughed then, making Shen Wei smile, forgetting his tears. He expected a deflection, or a joke something that diverted attention away from the truth whatever that might be, but Zhao didn't dodge. "Good question and the answer is: My mother. She was murdered when I was ten."
That was when Shen had sat down, remembering the park and filled with the urge to comfort the man, now looking fiercely at the camera, with fake joviality. The interviewer made the appropriate condolences and fake surprise, for which Zhao Yunlan responded with a brittle smile and thanks. That smile hurt in a way Shen Wei could never have anticipated. His smiles were always happy, defiant or even a little maniacal. Not this fake, easy to shatter expression.
"My mother was a music teacher and brilliant cellist. My Grandfather was a viola player and my Grandmother a singer I think. I started the violin when I was...three or four...maybe. By seven I was outshining the older kids in the class." He said with an unapologetic grin that calmed Shen Wei. This was Zhao Yunlan. Shameless and gorgeous.
He licked his lips and looked at something only he could see, obviously choosing his words carefully. "She taught me the cello and it was fun in-between violin practice. When she died, I wanted to keep her memory alive, so I chose to pursue both."
The awe Shen felt was only outstripped by the knowledge that a single sentence could so perfectly sum up his current conflict, with a brutality that was hard to accept. Head Chef. Pastry Chef. He had promised to give an answer the following morning.
Zhao Yunlan grinned again and moved in a half circle in the seat, "Most people, my teachers, friends even other family were telling me, "Oh that's stupid. Keep it as a hobby. You're a violinist, that's it. You can't do both. Gotta commit to one. Give the cello to someone else". It was hard."
"But...I was like...No. This is what I'm doing. The idea of never hearing that cello play again or even giving this family heirloom to someone else was unthinkable. I was going to play both. I wouldn't recommend it! To become really good at the violin, you're looking at eight to ten hours a day. I had no childhood friends...every spare minute was the violin. That's why at the age of eight I was so good. My life revolved around the music, so to add the cello to that was nuts...but that discipline was already there. I even managed to have a rebellion and have a wild few years, of smoking, drinking and barely there grades in school, but returning to that discipline was surprisingly easy." He said candidly, not at all ashamed of what he was admitting. Shen Wei wondered how so many people could fail such a brilliant mind, while feeling the sadness for this wild child that lived in Zhao Yunlan still.
"I had the best cellist teaching me in those early days and everything else I taught myself. It was hard, but if it is something you love and ultimately I had the training already...go for it. The voice of my mother's cello could not stay silent. The voice of my violin could not stay silent. I poured the grief into music and won a scholarship. Haters are going to hate and those that don't believe in you, are never going to. I would not be here now, without the discipline and the support of Da Qing and my sponsors really. They are in the forefront of my mind every day. They believed even when I didn't. So, thank you. Whatever you love, do it."
Shen Wei had sat back, looking at the photo of him and Ye Zun. No. Ye Zun's voice could not be lost. Dixing could not die. He looked back at the video, now playing the next track where Zhao Yunlan talked enthusiastically about improvisation. So what if they left Dixing. Every recipe, every idea and every moment in Dixing, the twins had done together. There was nothing he didn't know.
He had picked up the phone, called Chu Shuzhi. "I'm taking the position of Head Chef."
Easy said than accepted. Lao Chu had been thrilled, some pleased and others disappointed. No one else left and the restaurant was be reopened at the end of that month. Zhao Yunlan added another three videos that month and had joined social media. Shen was sleeping to the sound of his voice every night and had begun openly playing his music. There were more pictures and more video content than ever before.
Zhao Yunlan talked about food in quite a few moments across different media platforms.
That was when Shen Wei realized that Zhao Yunlan was not only a god among musicians, but a muse as well.
Then, he had built Shen Wei anew. Now, it was time to welcome that muse.