Chapter 2: An Unforgettable Dinner
[Comfortable rest increases happiness by 1 point]
Immediately, Ronan summoned a pale blue translucent interface.
[Level 1 Construction: 0/100]
[Level 1 Planting: 0/100]
[Level 1 Gathering: 0/100]
...
[Available Experience: 13]
In the previous month, the only way he gained happiness was by sleeping. But it required at least eight hours of sleep to earn one happiness point. Here, a brief nap could grant him one point? Lying down on the bed and sleeping a full eight hours—how many happiness points would that bring?
This thought thrilled Ronan, as if he had unexpectedly discovered a treasure.
However, this joy vanished the moment he stepped inside the cottage to inspect.
Cobwebs thickly covered the corners, dust and debris scattered everywhere, and the furniture was incomplete. Ronan even began to doubt whether simply sleeping here could guarantee even that meager one happiness point.
“To live a happy life, it will still take quite some time,” he sighed.
...
Inside the cottage, the first floor consisted of a living room, a dining room that could seat a dozen people, an open kitchen, a washroom, and a bedroom.
The so-called bedroom was actually a storage room filled with old, moldy clutter. Ronan glanced inside and quickly shut the door; time was limited, and the first floor was not on today’s cleaning list.
The second floor had three bedrooms and two washrooms.
Ronan quickly tidied up one bedroom with an attached washroom, then hurried out to visit Louis’s house.
Louis had said that the village of Lurmalan spread out slowly like a snail shell, centered around the old church. But when Ronan actually entered the village, he realized Louis’s home was outside the “snail shell” area.
The closer he got to Louis’s house, the denser the housing became. The rows of houses behind Louis’s place were already arranged in neat lines—a stark contrast to Ronan’s own “spacious and sparsely populated” home.
Louis’s wife, Leah, a beautiful woman with sun-kissed skin and a slender but healthy figure, opened the door for Ronan.
After Ronan introduced himself and presented the bottle of wine he had brought all the way from Paris as a gift, Leah warmly welcomed him inside.
“Come in quickly, everyone is waiting for you.”
Everyone?
Ronan’s first thought was Louis’s children, but seeing the huge dining table elegantly covered with a beautiful cloth and neatly set with more than a dozen sets of cutlery, he realized this was no simple family gathering.
Holding a wine glass, Louis suddenly appeared from somewhere.
“Look who’s here! Our new neighbor!”
---
Almost instantly, Ronan was surrounded.
A dozen strangers greeted him with wild enthusiasm.
Why wild enthusiasm? Because they were really hands-on. Some patted his back, others queued up to greet him with cheek kisses, and one gray-haired man directly hugged him.
The last time Ronan had such close contact with so many people was during a strike demonstration in Paris—but back then, their target was the government, not him.
For Ronan, raised with Eastern etiquette, this was overwhelming.
Could there really be French people who loved physical contact so much?
A young woman in her early twenties, wearing a white sweater, brown wool trousers, with golden long hair, handed Ronan a glass of colorless liquid.
“I hope you’ll like it here.”
She had a pair of pale blue eyes so unforgettable that Ronan swore if she touched him, he wouldn’t complain—though this was their first meeting inside the house.
Seeing Ronan hesitate, the girl blinked and joked,
“Don’t tell me Paris men don’t drink anise-flavored liqueur and want to compete with the ladies for sweet grape wine?”
“Thank you,” Ronan said, taking the glass and introducing himself, “Ronan.”
“Zoe,” she replied, nodding toward Louis. “My father says you’re from Paris. Can you handle our local drinks? That was just a joke earlier. If you don’t like it, I can get you some rosé; it’s easier to drink.”
In 1986, most Chinese people in France lived in a few neighborhoods in Paris.
Ronan guessed most of the neighbors here had come out of curiosity because of his skin color.
Moreover, Provençals harbored a clear bias against Parisians. Although all French, Parisians were treated like foreigners here.
Paris was not the only victim; fishermen in Maine, USA, treated New Yorkers similarly, and farmers in Yorkshire, England, looked down on Londoners.
Now, with both his yellow skin and Parisian identity stacked against him, Ronan could imagine how these people viewed him.
Though they tried to restrain themselves, occasional glimmers of suspicion still showed.
Ronan started drinking secretly at age ten, so by now he had twelve years of experience.
But anise-flavored liqueur...
Anise liqueur is made primarily from anise oil and distilled spirits. It is usually served with ice and mixed with five parts water. Commonly clear, but sometimes pale yellow, yellow, or green, it is very popular along the Mediterranean coast.
Ronan had tried it a few times in Paris but never liked it much; it was a bit astringent.
Still, wanting to dispel the labels pinned on him quickly, he took a big sip.
“I love anise liqueur.”
The taste surprised him; it was quite different from what he had tasted in Paris—actually rather good.
[Tasting authentic anise liqueur increases happiness by 1 point]
Ronan was stunned and speechless... this was possible?
Opposite him, Zoe smiled and said,
“I’m glad. I hope you’ll also enjoy our genuine country cuisine.”
...
Soon, the Provençals gave Ronan another lesson.
It was a meal Ronan would never forget.
No, more accurately, a series of meals.
Before everyone sat down, the diligent Leah had already almost filled the dining table.
Ronan counted ten kinds of cold dishes.
Black olives, fried sardines, cod marinated with cream, mushrooms soaked in cheese, baby squid, onions with fresh tomato sauce, sausages, red peppers marinated in olive oil, celery with basil beans, and candied fruit.
At the center of the table, the bread was toasted to a golden crisp, so fragrant and inviting it made one want to eat the whole loaf.
The first dish was lamb chops. Just as Ronan wiped his plate clean with bread, the second dish arrived—a large pizza topped with a generous amount of caviar and cheese.
Then came wild rabbit meat pie, stew pot, beef braised in red wine, fish soup...
[Tasting creamy cod increases happiness by 1 point]
[Tasting delicious wild rabbit meat increases happiness by 2 points]
[Tasting fresh seasonal vegetables increases happiness by 1 point]
[Tasting freshly baked pizza increases happiness by 1 point]
...
The notifications chimed continuously in Ronan’s ears.
Tonight would definitely be a night of abundant rewards in every way!
“Winter ingredients are a bit scarce. Do you still like it?” Leah asked for probably the fifth time about Ronan’s dining experience.
“Absolutely wonderful!” Ronan swallowed the last bite of beef stew with difficulty, raised his glass, and said, “Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Leah.”
Thank you for showing me that eating and drinking can also be a source of happiness. I spent a whole month eating and drinking in Paris without hearing a single notification like this.
Ronan already began to imagine the happiness of carving out his own world through food.
The men at the table started smoking, while the women chatted about the market in the neighboring village. Ronan guessed dinner was over, and his stomach certainly couldn’t hold any more “happiness.”
Just as he was about to check how many happiness points he had accumulated tonight, he was horrified to see Leah clearing the plates again and bringing out an absurdly huge roasting pan from the kitchen’s treasure trove.
It was an entire wild boar roasted with red wine and onions!
Louis ignored the panic in Ronan’s eyes, sliced off a leg of the boar and placed it on his plate, grinning:
“Child, welcome to Provence.”