Chapter 74: Mei Changsu’s Shop

Back home, I went online to search for restaurants owned by celebrities in the Magic City. Goodness, there were twenty or thirty of them, all kinds of cuisines and styles.

“Hugh Hu’s Japanese restaurant?”

There have always been few celebrities I genuinely like—besides the veteran actors like Dao Ming Chen, Hugh Hu barely makes the cut. Two roles left a deep impression: Li Xiaoyao in Chinese Paladin and Mei Changsu in Nirvana in Fire.

In Zhuang Chen’s view, it was the roles that made Hugh Hu who he is today. He met Li Xiaoyao in the prime of his youth, shot to stardom overnight, and became a top-tier popular idol.

Then came the car accident. He barely escaped with his life, spent years in silence, and later took on the role of Mei Changsu. The experiences mirrored each other: without that brush with death, there would be no classic Nirvana in Fire today.

As for his other roles, they had little impact, especially Hunter from a couple of years ago, touted as a commercial blockbuster, but in the end…

Setting aside the phone, I indulged in a relaxing hot bath, lounged on the balcony, gazed at the brightly lit Bund, sipped some red wine. With nothing planned for tomorrow, why not visit Hugh Hu’s Japanese place?

I didn’t bother calling ahead to arrange a meeting—after all, it was just admiration, nothing like a die-hard fan. Online reviews were positive; acting for so many years is no easy feat. Hugh Hu rarely makes movies, so I thought I’d support him and have a meal.

The next day, I enjoyed a rare sleep-in. Living in the city center makes it hard to even find a place to go jogging. I dawdled until lunchtime and headed straight to Fount, the new Japanese restaurant at 570 Yongjia Road, XH District.

Rumor has it online that he started the place with a good friend. The interior is elegant, the flavors authentic, with distinctive main courses and desserts, and even afternoon tea. They’ve invited seasoned Japanese chefs and pastry masters, claiming to present the most authentic and delicious high-end Japanese cuisine to their customers. It’s even been featured in food magazines—a fair bit of hype.

Stuck in traffic and bored, I played a video from last year’s interview with Hugh Hu. The host was Jing Li, an industry veteran, and her questions were sharp.

It turns out that during a trip, his female assistant, worried about Hugh Hu’s health, swapped seats with him. That was the main reason he survived the accident. When the crash happened, the assistant died on the spot. His eyes were injured, bleeding heavily. Thanks to timely medical care, his life was saved, but his face was severely disfigured.

The assistant’s death hit him hard. Though he wasn’t directly to blame, it weighed on his conscience. He sought every opportunity to make it up to her family, giving them all his earnings and hoping they could heal from the loss of their beloved daughter.

In October 2009, a Hope Primary School was completed, funded in the late assistant’s name. He personally attended the inspection, fulfilling a promise.

Every year since, he’s helped many children go to school, all acts of kindness done in the assistant’s name. Despite a busy schedule, he always finds time to help those in need. As a popular star, he has no scandals, shuns hype, lives modestly, rarely appears on variety shows—apart from acting, he keeps a low profile. That’s what Zhuang Chen admires most.

Every day, the internet is filled with news of celebrities’ public images collapsing—no wonder the old saying goes: “Actors are heartless.” To remain unstained in this swirling vat, regardless of acting skill, his character deserves praise.

Arriving at the restaurant, I found it bustling with customers. The décor was quite upscale. The waiter handed me the menu, and to my surprise, the prices were reasonable—most dishes ran a little over a hundred. After a quick glance, I asked the waiter to recommend their specialties.

The first dish was a sampler of nine signature desserts, called the “Nine Grid Platter,” for 128 yuan. It included Swiss roll, cream puffs, tiramisu, crème caramel, double ice cream scoops, milk pudding, matcha hot cake, and the signature cheesecake.

A generous platter, quite substantial. I sampled each one—nothing extraordinary, but nothing disappointing either.

Next came the foie gras and beef rice bowl. Two large pieces of foie gras, pan-seared to a golden finish, almost melted in the mouth. The beef was passable but a bit greasy; the rice was already salty, and in my opinion the addition of miso was unnecessary.

The Nine Grid Chirashi Bowl was similar to the dessert platter—a nine-grid arrangement of colorful ingredients. The presentation was appealing, the flavors fresh and generous, with rice tucked underneath, mixed with sesame seeds and pickled radish, served with soy sauce and wasabi.

The portion was small, so I ordered another. This dish was a highlight, just about deserving a passing mark.

The teriyaki salmon, rich and flavorful, was average—usually a popular dish, marinated in teriyaki sauce then grilled, topped with the chef’s special seasoning. Unfortunately, the sauce didn’t hit the mark; the flavor was off.

Finally came the thinly sliced halibut—transparent sashimi, each piece less than five millimeters thick, sliced delicately along the grain. The chef’s knife skills were so-so; the dish was unadorned, meant to showcase the fish’s natural flavor. Served with sweet shrimp and tuna, an assorted sashimi platter for only 108 yuan—what more could I say?

After settling the bill, a little over six hundred yuan, I felt it was more than fair for the Magic City. After all, for Japanese cuisine, if this had been Kaiseki in the capital, it wouldn’t even cover the tip.

In the afternoon I went to Jiujian Tang, asked the property management to tend to the garden, especially the koi, and arranged for someone to feed them. I’d been in the Magic City for more than ten days, nearly finished exploring. Next up was Suzhou and Hangzhou, a stroll by West Lake, to savor paradise on earth.

It’s only about two hundred kilometers away. I set off just after five in the afternoon, hit the expressway, and arrived by eight. In the city, I checked into the Hilton near West Lake, booking the presidential suite for three days.

“Greentown Jiangnanli?”

I took the villa information handed over by Xia Long. They say, “Above there is heaven, below are Suzhou and Hangzhou”—a house by West Lake is a must. With nothing else to do, I could jog or cycle around the lake, breathing in the fresh air.

Xia Long explained, “As you requested: a Chinese-style villa near West Lake, with an average price exceeding 120,000 yuan per square meter. It even won the so-called Pritzker Architecture Prize. I think it’s quite suitable.”

“Over a hundred years ago, the richest man Hu Xueyan spent three years and a fortune building a garden residence. Some say it cost five hundred thousand taels of silver, others say three million. In 2001, restoring the garden cost six hundred million.”

“As a result, Hu Xueyan’s former residence inspired Greentown Group to use it as a model—some of the villa layouts are almost identical to the old residence.”

“Pure Chinese architectural elements: deep alleys and winding paths, seventy-six courtyard residences planned, with areas ranging from 260 to 690 square meters, and more than forty different layouts. Each home is practically bespoke.”

“I specifically asked around. Two years ago, this project burst onto the scene, with an average price of 120,000 yuan per square meter, surpassing Yunqi Rose Garden’s eighty thousand, making it the new most expensive property.”

“There weren’t even show homes or sample areas—people bought straight from blueprints. One client even brought three friends to the sales office and queued overnight to get the first Chinese-style villa.”

Zhuang Chen was stunned. Incredible.

“The nation’s top design teams are involved: Qiu Deguang, hailed as the pioneer of Neo-Oriental Aestheticism; Liang Jianguo, designer of the Palace Museum’s Purple Gold Library; plus Greentown’s renowned architect Jiang Yu and landscape designer Song Shuhua…”

Xia Long grinned. “I called to ask—there are only two resale villas left, both priced at one hundred million. What do you think?”