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Wu Yui sighed. Old Huang was great in every way, except for one thing—he was just too popular with the ladies. If anyone got involved with him, they’d have to live in constant fear of losing him.
In the kitchen, Yi Leng ultimately decided not to reach for the knife. People naturally carried their own auras, and while so were good at hiding theirs, few could completely transform their aura into sothing entirely different. This mixed-race woman wasn’t an international assassin here to kill him—she had a different identity.
Zhang Cong was busy cooking at the stove. Wearing a chef’s hat and a white apron, he wielded a wok over roaring flas that shot up over three feet high. The young man worked calmly and thodically, his spatula flipping deftly as he scooped seasonings from various containers. His movents were smooth and practiced, clearly the work of a skilled chef.
They say a man is most attractive when he’s fully focused on his work. To a mother, her son flipping a wok was the most dashing young man in the world. This woman had raised Zhang Cong for nineteen years, and this was the first ti she’d seen him so dedicated to sothing. Her excitent was palpable.
Yi Leng deduced her identity from her expression. This was Zhang Cong’s mother—Xie Wenxia, the wife of Huojian Ge, had arrived.
Zhang Cong scooped the stir-fried dish into a plate with a flourish, then turned and saw his mother standing there. His face imdiately soured, and he pouted, “Why are you here?”
It was understandable that a troubled teenager wouldn’t have the best relationship with his parents. Yi Leng didn’t interfere, letting the mother and son communicate on their own. But Xie Wenxia was considerate and didn’t want to disturb her son while he worked. She found a table, sat down, and said she wanted to order so dishes. Today, she finally got to eat a al cooked by her son.
Since it wasn’t busy, Yi Leng, as Zhang Cong’s ntor, could sit with Xie Wenxia for a while. When Wu Yui heard this was Zhang Cong’s mother, she relaxed a little. At least it wasn’t one of Old Huang’s old flas.
Zhang Cong’s mother, Xie Wenxia, had a strong northeastern accent. She had moved to Jiangwei with her parents from Dalian Shipyard as a child and had settled there. When asked about her eye color, she didn’t hide it, explaining that she was a quarter Russian. Her grandmother was a White Russian noble who had ended up in Harbin.
Yi Leng knew that part of history. Many White Russian nobles had fallen into hard tis, and it wasn’t sothing to delve into too deeply.
But Xie Wenxia brought it up herself. She said her great-grandfather had been a major quartermaster under Kolchak. After fleeing to Harbin, he opened a Russian restaurant. Her grandmother knew how to make borscht, salo, and black bread, and even brewed kvass.
“Brother, first of all, I have to thank you for setting Zhang Cong on the right path,” Xie Wenxia said. “Later, I’ll toast you. Girl, bring a case of beer!”
Xiao Hong, pouting, carried over a case of beer and asked provocatively, “Should I open them all?”
Xie Wenxia bood, “Of course! I’m going to have a few drinks with my brother to show my gratitude.”
“Sister-in-law, no need to be so formal. Zhang Cong and I just have that kind of connection,” Yi Leng said.
Xie Wenxia said, “Don’t call sister-in-law. That’s not the right way to address . Zhang Weibin and I divorced ages ago. Just call Sister Xia.”
“What are you up to these days, Sister Xia?” Yi Leng asked, not just making small talk but with a purpose in mind.
“I’m laid off, not doing much. I was working as a stocker at a small supermarket near my place, but I got into a fight with the manager and quit,” Xie Wenxia said bluntly.
“Why not co work at the restaurant?” Yi Leng suggested. “That way, you and your son can look out for each other.”
Xie Wenxia’s eyes lit up. It was like soone had handed her a pillow just as she was about to fall asleep. This was a dream job falling from the sky. Money wasn’t the issue—she’d be happy just seeing her son improve and stay on the right path.
Zhang Cong personally brought out a dish and set it down in front of Sister Xia with a cold expression. Xie Wenxia bead with pride, praising her son until he blushed. Everyone likes being complinted, and the tension between mother and son seed to lt away.
And so, the restaurant gained another capable server. Xie Wenxia had given birth to Zhang Cong at eighteen and was now in her late thirties, still in the pri of her life. With her quarter-Russian, quarter-northeastern heritage, she was a force to be reckoned with. Having her on the team was like adding wings to a tiger.
As for the expansion plans, the final decision rested with Ali. Their business model was structured with Wu Yui as the chairman of Yui Catering Company, Huang Pihu as the general manager, and Ali as the investor, who didn’t participate in day-to-day managent but whose opinion still mattered when it ca to major decisions.
Ali had no business experience and no ti for research, but her instincts told her Old Huang’s decision was sound. Soone who only focused on the present was shortsighted. If they could plan three to five years ahead, they were a visionary. And if they could see ten years into the future, they were extraordinary.
The Big Red Robe dish was a hit, but Huang Pihu wanted to move away from it, showing his foresight. Several nearby restaurants had already started copying the dish, and there was nothing particularly difficult about it—it was just about using generous portions of ingredients. Once competition heated up, their advantage would disappear. Preparing for the future was what a true businessperson did.
They wasted no ti. Yi Leng ordered two tents online—not the flimsy kind for picnics, but proper geological expedition tents, each costing 5,000 yuan. Two tents ant a 10,000-yuan investnt, a significant expense.
While waiting for the delivery, Yi Leng led his team of aunties and young girls to clear the weeds from the vacant lot. In one afternoon, they had the area cleaned up. He then hauled in bags of cent and, using his masonry skills, leveled the ground. The weather was clear, with no rain or snow, so the cent would dry quickly. By the ti the tents arrived, the ground would be ready.
The tents were delivered by truck, and assembling them was a Herculean task. The fras were made of 28mm-thick, powder-coated, galvanized steel pipes with base beams, sturdy enough to withstand strong winds. The structure was modular, with separate roofs and walls. In winter, the walls could be fully enclosed to block the cold, while in sumr, only the roof was needed for shade. They were versatile for all seasons.
Each tent covered fifty square ters, so two tents ant an additional hundred square ters of space. The restaurant’s capacity had just skyrocketed. Matching tables and chairs were delivered from a furniture wholesale market—cheap tal fras with plywood tops, easy to replace if damaged. The manufacturer even threw in a small single-person tent, perfect for use as a restroom.
Along with the tents ca dozens of portable stoves and grills. In winter, people wanted hot food, and with so many stoves burning, the temperature inside the tents would stay warm, even in the coldest weather.
With the expanded space, the current staff wasn’t enough. They needed more servers. Yi Leng posted a job notice at the entrance, and soon enough, soone applied—Xiao Li, the truck driver who often ca to collect kitchen waste. He said his wife was at ho with nothing to do and was quick with her hands, making her a good candidate for a dishwasher.
Xiao Li drove a truck that collected kitchen waste for a pig farm in the suburbs. Feeding pigs with kitchen waste was illegal, so he always worked late at night. After a few days of interaction, Yi Leng had a good sense of the man’s situation. Xiao Li lived a hard life, working in the city with his wife and child, renting a small place. His child attended a migrant school and was doing well academically, a source of hope for the couple.
Wu Yui gave the green light to hire Xiao Li’s wife as a dishwasher. But when the woman showed up, Wu Yui imdiately regretted her decision.
Because she was quite attractive. Xiao Li was a tall, handso man who resembled a certain celebrity, though his long struggles at the bottom of society had left him with a defeated air. His wife, Du Li, was no less striking. At thirty, she had the figure of a young girl, looking no older than twenty-five or twenty-six.
Wu Yui was worried that Old Huang and Du Li might get involved, but she couldn’t take back her offer. She gave Du Li a one-month trial period, washing dishes and doing odd jobs for sixty yuan a day. The pay wasn’t great, but Du Li accepted it without complaint.
On the very first night the tent was set up, business was already booming. The first group of custors to enter the tent were Ma Junhou, a shipyard worker, and his colleagues. Du Li, holding the nu, went over to greet them. Ma Junhou's eyes scanned her up and down as he asked, "You're new here, aren't you?"
"Yes, big brother. You must be a regular, right? We have a special today—order a case of beer and get three bottles free," Du Li replied. Though her official role was as a dishwasher, in practice, she was no different from the others—she took orders, wiped tables, and served custors.
"Then we’ll definitely take two cases of beer!" Ma Junhou declared with bravado. Even as Du Li walked away, his gaze lingered on her.
"Brother Ma, you’ve got your eye on her, huh?" one of his coworkers teased. "What about the boss lady? Not your type anymore?"
"The boss lady’s too spicy for ," Ma Junhou replied with a grin. "This one’s just right—not too salty, not too bland. She’s my type."
Business that night was unexpectedly good. Both tents were packed with custors. The new team’s first collaboration went smoothly, with everyone working efficiently. The won on the team were particularly sharp, each handling tasks as if they were three people in one. Despite the busyness, everything was orderly and under control. The kitchen was a hive of activity, with dishes flying out one after another. Everyone was filled with a sense of excitent—if business stayed this good, they’d be on the fast track to a comfortable life.
Ali ca by to check on her investnt. Seeing the bustling scene, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of worry. She asked Huang, the chef, "Have we taken care of the necessary permits? Is this considered an illegal structure? Could we get shut down by the city managent?"
Yi Leng had already done his howork. He explained that an illegal structure referred to any construction within urban planning zones that was built without proper permits or in violation of regulations. "What we have here is just a tent. At most, it’s a temporary structure. As for reporting it, well, we haven’t done that. You know how it is—if you want sothing to fail, just keep asking for approvals. The more you ask, the more likely it is to fall through."
Ali nodded, seeming to understand a little. Yi Leng continued, "I’ve looked into it. The company that bought this land went bankrupt. Now there are several parties claiming rights to it, but none of them can produce the proper legal docunts. Even the local neighborhood office doesn’t have a clear claim. This is essentially no-man’s land. By setting up a tent here, we’re keeping costs low and reaping big benefits. If we had tried to report it to the neighborhood office or the city managent, they would’ve never approved it. So we’re just going ahead with it. If soone cos to investigate, we’ll deal with the fines. After all, this is just a transitional phase."
Ali was impressed. When it ca to the specifics of running a business, she really didn’t have much to contribute. After admiring the lively scene for a while, she left.
Wu Yui was flipping through the order slips and punching numbers into the calculator. To her surprise, a line had ford of custors waiting to pay. This level of success was beyond her expectations. The next person in line was Ma Junhou, who, slightly drunk, asked her about the new waitress. "What’s her na? How old is she?"
"Brother Ma, don’t get any ideas," Wu Yui chuckled. "She’s already got a kid who’s old enough to run errands."
"She looks so young, though," Ma Junhou sighed, shaking his head in regret.
By 1 a.m., the night’s business finally wrapped up. The six newly purchased garbage bins were all full. Xiao Li arrived with his small truck to haul away the waste. anwhile, Du Li swiftly wiped down the tables and chairs and cleaned up the area. As Xiao Li loaded the bins onto the truck, he grabbed a broom and helped sweep the trash.
Yi Leng stepped out of the kitchen, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He tossed a cigarette to Xiao Li and struck up a casual conversation. "You and your wife are both so busy. Who takes care of your kid?"
"My son’s very independent," Du Li said proudly. "He goes to school and cos back on his own. He doesn’t go out to play—just does his howork. I make lunch for him, and he heats it up himself. At night, he goes to bed on ti. We don’t have to worry about him at all."
Yi Leng suggested, "There’s not much left to do here. Why don’t you ride back with Xiao Li?"
Du Li smiled and declined. "Xiao Li still has to deliver the waste. I’ll walk ho later."
Xiao Li got into the truck, and Du Li called out, "Drive safe! I’ll be ho soon to celebrate your birthday." She then turned back to her work, completely unaware that this would be the last ti she’d see him.
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