Chapter 15

Mr. Zhou's restaurant, although it is an authentic Chinese restaurant, the interior decoration disappointed Ryan a bit. There was no Oriental charm at all; the style was very modern.

"I wonder if the taste is authentic."

Ryan muttered softly, then followed Helen to sit down at a very quiet table guided by the waiter.

The only thing that made him somewhat satisfied was that at least the waiter in front of him was Chinese, probably a college student working part-time.

Looking at the English menu handed over by the waiter, Ryan furrowed his brows slightly. There were some ambiguous names on the menu that left him puzzled.

"Do you have a menu in Chinese?"

Ryan gestured with the English menu in hand and asked in fluent Mandarin, surprising the waiter with his fluent Mandarin.

Mandarin!

The waiter was obviously stunned. The person in front of him was clearly a pure American, yet he could speak Mandarin fluently.

"Of course, sir, please wait a moment."

The waiter, slightly regaining his composure, immediately turned to fetch the Chinese menu.

Helen, sitting across from him, looked surprised and asked, "You speak Chinese!"

"My mother is half Chinese, so I've always been fond of Eastern culture," Ryan replied truthfully.

Indeed, his mother really had half Chinese heritage.

Helen's expression softened with understanding. No wonder they were here to celebrate at a Chinese restaurant.

Shortly after, the waiter came back with a Chinese menu.

Taking the Chinese menu, Ryan quickly flipped through it and found that most of the dishes were on the sweeter side, probably to cater to the local customers' taste.

"Can you make Sichuan dishes?"

"Yes, we can."

The waiter glanced at Helen beside him, showing a hint of surprise in his eyes, secretly wondering why this foreigner specifically asked if they could make Sichuan dishes. Was he trying to make this pretty lady embarrass herself?

In the United States, many people couldn't handle Sichuan cuisine, even in China.

"Great."

Ryan disregarded the waiter's gaze and directly ordered a series of dishes.

"Boiled sliced beef in chili sauce, husband and wife lung slices, mapo tofu, pickled pepper chicken feet, shadowless beef, spicy crab, spicy chicken with peanuts."

After finishing, he realized he hadn't asked Helen if she could handle spicy food, so he sought her opinion.

"Helen, can you eat spicy food?"

Facing Ryan's question, Helen raised an eyebrow elegantly, asking if she could eat spicy food?

What did that mean?

"I can handle some."

After consulting Helen's opinion, Ryan nodded satisfactorily and said, "I want authentic Chinese cuisine, not modified. Remember to add more chili peppers, and don't skimp on the chili oil. It's best to add more Sichuan peppercorns."

The waiter noted Ryan's request, feeling speechless. Adding more chili peppers, and even Sichuan peppercorns? Wasn't he afraid of getting scorched to death? Poor him and the beautiful lady, who would end up with mouths full of fire.

The dishes arrived quickly. Soon, there was a table full of Sichuan dishes, emanating a strong spicy aroma.

"Try this; it's definitely authentic Chinese cuisine."

Ryan blinked, specially selecting dishes with plenty of chili and chili oil, serving Helen a full plate using the communal utensils.

Seeing this, Helen remained calm, elegantly picking up a piece of bright red boiled beef and chewing it without any change in her expression.

"The taste is alright."

Seeing Helen's seemingly normal reaction, Ryan was puzzled. How could it be just alright? Wasn't it spicy at all?

The next moment, he picked up a piece of boiled beef, put it in his mouth, and chewed. Indeed, the taste was quite good.

But suddenly, he froze, his face turning bright red like a monkey's backside.

"Water, water, water!"

He picked up a glass of water and gulped it down, but the spicy taste persisted, causing him to furrow his brows.

On the other hand, Helen had already started eating again, her face unchanged.

"Is this what you meant by 'I can handle some'?"

Setting down the water glass, Ryan stared at her fiercely.

"I forgot to tell you; my mother grew up in Mexico, so she used to make some Mexican dishes when I was young," Helen said with a rare smile.

Growing up, there were often Mexican-style dishes on the dinner table, some of which were very spicy.

So for her, while these Chinese dishes were indeed spicy, they were still bearable.

It was the numbing sensation that she found hard to adapt to.

Mexican cuisine!

Ryan couldn't help but laugh bitterly. Wasn't this his own fault?

Damn Mexican food.

Fortunately, apart from the boiled beef slices, the spiciness of the other dishes was acceptable, arousing his appetite. In fact, this was the best meal he had had in a while.

Just as the two were about to pay and leave, a voice suddenly came from the entrance.

"Helen!"

Following the direction of the voice, a man and a woman walked over, the woman holding a four or five-year-old girl who looked like an oversized doll.

"Mr. Swift!"

"When did you arrive in Los Angeles?" Helen seemed surprised, immediately getting up to leave her seat and chat with the man who had approached.

"Just arrived yesterday. Taylor insisted on wanting to eat Chinese food," Mr. Swift said with a hint of helplessness, pointing to the little girl in his wife's arms.

"Hello, Mrs. Andrea, is this little Taylor?" Helen looked at the little girl in Mrs. Andrea's arms with curiosity.

"Hello, Miss Helen. My dad mentioned you and said you're very pretty," the little girl called Taylor said to Helen in a childish voice, looking at her without any unfamiliarity, then said, "You're very pretty too."

Helen smiled politely, clearly delighted.

"Okay, Taylor, say goodbye to Miss Helen. Didn't you say you wanted to eat Chinese food?" Mr. Swift glanced at his wife awkwardly, feeling embarrassed for praising another woman's beauty in front of his wife.

In front of his wife, even if he didn't say it himself, it was still very awkward to compliment another woman's beauty.

"Goodbye, Miss Helen." Little Taylor waved her hand, bidding farewell to Helen.

Seeing the interesting family of three leaving, Ryan's eyes showed a hint of contemplation, and he tentatively asked, "Who is Mr. Swift?"

Helen sat down again and said, "Mr. Swift works at Merrill Lynch Securities and is also my mother's stock manager."

"However, Mr. Swift and his family usually live on an 11-acre farm in Montgomery County, Pennsylvania, and rarely come to Los Angeles."

Mr. Swift!

Little Taylor!

An 11-acre farm in Montgomery County, Pennsylvania!

Could it be that the little girl who looked like a doll just now was the famous Taylor Swift from the previous life?

"Can you give me Mr. Swift's contact information?" Ryan happened to lack a stock manager.

"Sure."

Helen wrote down the contact information on a napkin and handed it to him, saying, "Mr. Swift is a very competent stock manager. You can fully trust his investment advice."

"Unfortunately, his daughter is too young; otherwise, they would have moved to Los Angeles or New York

 long ago."

Ryan became more certain that the little girl just now, who looked like a doll, was the famous Taylor Swift from his previous life.

"Compared to Los Angeles or New York, the farm is more suitable for a childhood."

"In this regard, Mr. and Mrs. Swift are definitely qualified parents."

Speaking of Taylor Swift, she was truly a legend. She was one of the most famous female singers in the world in the 20th century, representing American country music.

However, the most important figure in Taylor Swift's life was Mr. and Mrs. Swift.

In 2001, after watching a video of country singer Faith Hill, Taylor began to beg her mother to go to Nashville, Tennessee, the mecca of country music, to pursue her musical dreams.

If it were any other parents, they probably wouldn't have agreed to such a request.

But Taylor's mother did, and quickly persuaded Taylor's father, Mr. Swift, to move the whole family to Nashville.

Thus began Taylor's legendary journey.

Most parents just wished for their children to succeed and arranged what they thought was a successful path. It was hard to find parents like Mr. and Mrs. Swift.

So there was only one Taylor Swift in North America, or even the whole world—a young singer who bought a nearly $2 million apartment at the age of twenty.