Transmigration: The Little Chef Calls The Shots-Chapter 815 - 105 beating the adulterer, the trashy woman humiliates herself_3

"Look at this girl’s hair, covered with rotten vegetable leaves and stinking eggs. Why isn’t she hurrying out? Could it be she has taken a liking to this slop water?"

"I think she really likes the slop water. You see, she’s clearly awake but just can’t bear to stand up. I’ve heard that some people grow up in slop water from a young age!"

"Haha, are you calling her a person? She sounds more like a piglet, doesn’t she? And piglets love nothing more than slop water, haha."

Listening to passersby exchanging remarks, Meng Chunyan buried her face deeply in the slop water, not daring to show her face. At that moment, she even harbored a desire to die.

She was no piglet! She did not want to soak in this slop water!

But...

Meng Chunyan burst into tears. Where were her clothes? She clearly remembered drinking tea inside the house. How did she end up soaked in slop water upon opening her eyes? And stripped of her clothes to boot, how could she possibly run away?

The ten-day agreement with Meng Tong came and went, yet Meng Tong failed to deliver the wine as promised.

Liu Limin hooked the corner of her lips and personally led Ah Chao and Ah Yue to the Meng Family Wine House to demand an explanation. Ever since the last incident with Meng Tong, Liu Limin had grown even fonder of the siblings, insisting on taking them wherever she went.

Ah Chao was still his usual quiet self, but his ears would redden slightly whenever Liu Limin spoke to him, showing his bashful nature. Ah Yue, on the other hand, had become more cheerful, naturally so for a girl her age. But what troubled Liu Limin the most was that this girl was also a foodie. Whenever she saw food, she would act as if she hadn’t eaten in ages. Therefore, every time Lin Yuan visited Liu’s Brewery, the young girl would be overjoyed, prompting a mix of amusement and headache for Liu Limin.

Meanwhile, the Meng Family Wine House was bustling like a marketplace.

It turned out that the newly-brewed wine had soured overnight, yet again.

The veteran wine masters were both baffled and furious. Today was supposed to be the delivery day, and yet the wine had spoiled so suddenly!

The wine unfit for consumption, and suspecting foul play without evidence, they had no choice but to compensate. But it was all moot—finding the culprit now wouldn’t change the reality that the shipment was delayed.

Worse still, the Head of the Meng Family, Meng Tong, had suddenly fallen ill and reportedly couldn’t even leave his bed. Although the eldest son of the Meng family, Meng Yuanjian, had taken charge, could this young prodigal, who usually concerned himself only with money and crickets, be up to the task?

When Meng Yuanjian heard the Steward’s report, he stared blankly and asked in a low voice, "Can’t we send a different wine?"

The Steward broke into a cold sweat. Was the young master truly naive, or merely feigning ignorance?

"That won’t do, young master. When we partnered with Liu’s Brewery, we agreed on providing this specific type of wine. We’ve already been late once, and now, ten days later, it happened again. If we change the wine without authorization at this point, we’ll truly ruin our own reputation!"

Watching the Steward’s near-tearful, agonized expression, Meng Yuanjian curled his lips and muttered softly, "I was just asking, not insisting on a change. Is that reaction really necessary? You’re not some damsel; anyone would think I’d wronged you by your behavior!"

Meng Yuanjian felt thoroughly frustrated. His hastily conceived solution had been shot down before it could even be tried, and he couldn’t help but feel humiliated. After all, he was the Young Master of the Meng Family Wine House, but faced with difficulties, he had no ideas—embarrassing indeed.

The more he thought about it, the more infuriated and helpless he felt. Anger rising, Meng Yuanjian lashed out at the row of old wine masters standing by the vats, "It’s all your fault! How can you brew wine like this? Perfectly good wine turning sour overnight? Enough with the excuses that someone tampered with it; it’s just a pretext! I think it’s simply your lack of skill in making a decent wine!"

To accuse these old masters of not making good wine was a grave injustice. These were veterans who had toiled in the wine house for decades—plainly speaking, they had been brewing wine for more years than Meng Yuanjian had been alive.

Hearing the Young Master’s words, the Steward was so anxious he grimaced. What on earth was wrong with the boss? What serious illness had he contracted that he couldn’t step outside, forcing the young master to take over? Look at what he’s saying! Isn’t he just driving these people away?