That evening, Zhang Yang ordered several local specialties, including red carp stuffed with lotus seeds and the Autumn Harvest One-Pot Stew. After all, when visiting a place, the first step to understanding its customs was to taste its authentic flavors.
"How is it?" Xie Shuting asked.
"Not bad. Does this count as Jiangxi cuisine?" Zhang Yang said as he sampled the dishes.
"It has both Jiangxi and Huizhou flavors—a bit of both." Xie Shuting smiled, chopsticks in hand. "By the way, tell me about yourself. You came all this way to invite me, acting like I was the only possible choice. Did your person in charge read my books, or something?"
Zhang Yang blinked.
What did she mean, like she was the only possible choice? She was just on the list provided by the system. This involved an entire industry—otherwise, why would he come all this way to invite someone?
Of course, he definitely couldn't say that.
"Both, I suppose. The person in charge thinks highly of your work, and I happen to be a fan of your books too, so I volunteered," Zhang Yang said.
"You... a fan of my books?" Xie Shuting raised her voice, disbelief written all over her face.
"Really." Zhang Yang didn't even blush.
They weren't exactly profound literary masterpieces, and Su Xiaoran wasn't a particularly prolific writer to begin with. So, if he spent half a day reading the reviews, figuring out the character relationships and critical opinions, then skimming the original text once, he could basically talk like he knew what he was saying.
"For example, your book The Teenage Years: Seventeen, Left or Right—my favorite part is..."
He spoke eloquently, and Xie Shuting's eyes grew brighter and brighter.
Yet at that moment, Zhang Yang stopped revealing too much of his purpose. This