Chapter 39: The Strange Guest

“How was it? How did we do today?”

“Not bad, better than expected.” Chen Xin printed out the transaction summary and examined it. “After deducting Tang and his friends’ bill, today’s revenue is enough to cover wages, utilities, and supplies.”

Though the first day could be considered a smashing success, no one dared assume every day would be like this. After all, coffee was hardly a mainstream beverage here. If they wanted the business to survive, they’d have to develop other projects, and seeking out events to collaborate with would be essential.

What surprised everyone was that Chen Xin’s culinary skills had unexpectedly become a selling point.

Even if most people weren’t especially well-off these days, there were always a few who’d gotten rich ahead of the curve. They might be low-key in daily life, but when it came to something they liked, price was no object. A plate of fried rice costing ten or twenty yuan was hardly something they needed to think twice about.

In the first couple of days, Chen Xin didn’t notice anything unusual. But then, one day, she was out on an errand and hadn’t come to the shop. The floor manager, Xiao Hu, called her, saying a customer had come specifically to eat her cooking, and now refused to leave, insisting on being served and claiming to be referred by a regular.

Xiao Hu didn’t dare offend the guest, and if it really was a regular’s referral, it would mean losing more than just one customer. With no other choice, she called Chen Xin.

At the time, Chen Xin was taking Zhang Zhang for a vaccination. Hearing there was a customer who insisted on eating only her food, she could do nothing but bring Zhang Zhang along to the shop.

When she arrived, she saw the guest: a very thin woman, not quite skin and bones, but thin enough to be startling. Because of her gauntness, her eyes appeared especially large, and there was a chilliness in her gaze that made it no surprise Xiao Hu had felt overwhelmed.

“Are you unwell?” The moment Chen Xin saw her, she suspected the woman might be suffering from anorexia. But she’d never heard of an anorexic patient voluntarily coming to a restaurant to eat.

“Old Qiao said your food is delicious. I want to try it. Money isn’t an issue.”

Her tone wasn’t exactly friendly—outwardly polite, yet the irritation beneath her words and expression was plain to see.

Chen Xin didn’t mind. Though she hadn’t had much contact with anorexia patients, she knew the illness was closely tied to psychological factors. At least this guest hadn’t given up on herself entirely—she still wanted to eat, wanted to live. Besides, perhaps she wasn’t actually anorexic.

Then, in the next moment, the guest revealed the truth herself.

“You probably guessed it—I have anorexia,” the woman blurted out, her agitation obvious and her speech rapid, not leaving Chen Xin a chance to reply. “Old Qiao sent me, said your food is great and I should give it a try.”

Chen Xin listened patiently, observing her before asking whether her anorexia had been triggered by dieting.

“Why are you asking so much?” The woman was wary.

“There’s no need to be anxious, I mean no harm. If it makes you uncomfortable, you can have Brother Qiao come and keep you company.” Chen Xin poured her a glass of lemon water, warm, and set it before her. “I need to know what caused your anorexia to make sure you’re not repulsed by food. For instance, if you think you’re too fat and developed anorexia from forced dieting, we could try healthy vegetarian dishes. If it’s stress-related, we could balance meat and vegetables and pair them with floral teas to help your mood. There are many possibilities, but we have to address the right one.”

Chen Xin spoke to her gently, discussing how to eat healthily according to one’s needs—a subject of great complexity. Nutritionists were in such high demand because a good one didn’t just provide nutritional analysis; they tailored adjustments to all aspects of your life, ensuring you could achieve your goals without harming your health.

“It’s both for me.” After a long pause, the woman eased her guard a little. “My work requires me to be on camera, but as you know, the camera adds weight. To look my best, I have to suppress my appetite.”

Chen Xin understood well. Popular entertainers lived on salads, and even then couldn’t eat as much as they liked. Their lives were hardly enviable.

“Last summer, I had to take medication for health reasons, and my appearance on camera suffered terribly. Afterwards, management reassigned me.” The woman pressed her lips together, clearly reluctant to revisit that time. If she’d known it would come to this, she’d have chosen to work behind the scenes rather than feel like she was always walking a tightrope.

She didn’t go on, but Chen Xin could already guess the cause of her illness.

“Your condition needs a doctor’s care,” Chen Xin said gently. “All I can do is offer support according to your treatment plan. How about this: I’ll make you something to eat. If you can manage it, I’ll design a menu tailored to your situation for you to discuss with your doctor. If there are no conflicts with your medication, we can move on to the next step. Does that sound alright?”

The woman frowned, hesitated, and finally nodded, albeit begrudgingly. She didn’t want to face her own physical condition, but at this point, it was no longer about what she wanted. Earlier that year, she’d nearly been hospitalized. Her husband, frustrated by her situation, had transferred with their child to his hometown. Though they hadn’t divorced, with time apart, separation was inevitable.

Chen Xin brought her into the kitchen, setting a chair in the small room outside so she could watch everything she did.

For anorexia patients, psychological treatment was even more important than physical care, but how to rekindle the desire to eat was a challenging problem. Many fell ill in the first place from obsessing over their weight and forcing themselves to go without food, eventually developing anorexia.

If you tried to serve them rich, greasy food during recovery, the result would be the opposite, possibly making their aversion even worse.

Chen Xin took cucumbers, lettuce, red cabbage, tomatoes, and a chicken breast from the fridge.

She juiced a pear with celery and brought the drink out to Lü Yimeng, who watched her from the other room.

“This pear is very sweet. I’ve blended it with a bit of celery. Try a sip—it’ll provide vitamins, and the celery is good for vascular health.”

Lü Yimeng had never tried such a combination; her juices were always simple, sometimes mixing different fruits, but pear and celery? Would that even taste good?

She had no appetite, but forced herself to bring the glass to her lips. The faint sweetness was actually acceptable—she could smell the celery, but didn’t taste it, only the pure sweetness of the pear. She tried a tiny sip, barely enough to wet her lips, and found it wasn’t unpleasant. Carefully, she took another small taste.