"Father and son together in the recruitment?"
Mr. Song and Song Xiaojang exchanged glances, then turned to look at Cheng Su.
Cheng Su said honestly, "Actually, I was thinking of recruiting you, Mr. Song. As for him, he came along with you. I was just afraid you’d look down on my little restaurant and refuse to come."
"Do you know how old I am this year?" Mr. Song asked.
Cheng Su revealed a smile. "I guess you’re not over sixty, but even if you were seventy, if you could still do it, I think you would keep on cooking."
"Oh?"
"Mr. Song, the sense of regret in your eyes, along with your passion and love for cooking, it’s all there in your gaze. I believe that someone who loves cooking, even on their last day of life, would struggle to stand up and make one more dish, right?" Cheng Su said sincerely.
Mr. Song laughed heartily. "The young miss isn’t old, but she sees things quite clearly," he said, changing his tone. "I’m fifty-eight this year. In two years, I’ll be at the age of sixty, a ’flower threshold’ year. Would you still want someone like me to be your head chef?"
"Mr. Song, you’re not satisfied, are you!"
Mr. Song laughed again. "Indeed, I am not satisfied."
Who would be satisfied? The restaurant he treated like his child had abandoned him.
"Mr. Song, my little restaurant started as a fast food place, but we also have made-to-order items. I have a very detailed plan for the future development of my restaurant. Right now, it’s fast food, but once the funds are in place, I will open a branch, expand it into a larger restaurant, and in the longer term, I aim to register a chain of restaurants," Cheng Su explained slowly. "Mr. Song, you’re fifty-eight this year. If you are not satisfied, why not come to my little restaurant and work for another two years?"
Mr. Song was astonished.


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