Ye Chen nodded confidently.
"Exactly—we’re running a self-serve Hot Pot place. We supply the base broth, and custors mix their own dips."
Xia Yingluo gave a vague nod.
She thought Ye Chen’s idea was terrific.
Ye Chen went on, "And I don’t think student traffic alone is enough. We need a spot with dense foot-traffic—a comrcial street. We’re not doing the big round-table thing; it’s one pot per person."
As he spoke he sketched a diagram.
A square counter lined with mini pots.
Right—this was the model that had made Xiabu Xiabu a hit in his past life.
But in 2010 Xiabu Xiabu had only just entered Shanghai, opening its first branch there.
So the store Ye Chen planned would be one of a kind.
Xia Yingluo blinked.
"You an run a Hot Pot place like a fast-food joint?"
Though she’d never seen such a setup, the sketch made perfect sense the longer she studied it.
The defiance on her face faded, replaced by deep thought.
Seeing her expression, Ye Chen knew his persuasion was half done.
"But won’t one-pot-per-person cost a lot?"
Suddenly she hit on a very practical snag.
Sharing one big pot among several people was clearly cheaper than giving everyone an individual pot.
Ye Chen imdiately looked as if victory were in his pocket.
"Not an issue—we’re going upscale. The décor has to look premium."
"Picture a long table with countless mini pots; diners sit around it. The whole hall must feel luxurious yet tasteful—clean and fresh."
"Main color sche: tangerine-red. Centerpiece is a rectangular communal counter, flanked by so six-seat tables. Solo diners are happy, so are families."
Ye Chen simply copied the décor of the Xiabu Xiabu from his previous life.
Xia Yingluo: "..."
By now she was utterly stunned.
Ye Chen was a genius—had he really co up with all this himself?
It felt as if he’d opened a brand-new window for her.
She even felt a twinge of defeat.
She thought of her own design.
A few big tables, plain décor—no different from any other Hot Pot shop.
Ye Chen’s vision sounded wonderful by comparison.
The two concepts weren’t even in the sa league.
Ye Chen pressed on: "For ingredients, we’ll import top-grade beef and mutton direct from the grasslands. We’ll mix our own sesa base, vacuum-pack it, and let custors grab it. Chili oil, oyster sauce, sesa seeds—put them in crocks for free mixing."
Recalling every detail of his Xiabu Xiabu als, he appropriated the whole model and sold it to Xia Yingluo.
She was too amazed to speak.
She gazed at him in awe, as if eting a business guru.
"Letting custors help themselves—won’t that raise costs?"
She turned the plan over in her mind.
A pri comrcial-street location ant sky-high rent.
A big, luxurious, tasteful interior would push costs even higher.
She caught the familiar scent of money-burning.
Ye Chen cleared his throat. "We’re going for cutting-edge, high-end, eye-catching."
Seeing her hesitate, he struck while the iron was hot: "Look, if we pull this off we’ll be the only ga in town. Down the road we could blanket every major city’s shopping street and beco the Hot Pot Kings."
Her doubts vanished; her eyes sparkled.
"Right—we’ll be unique, unprecedented. We’ll create a Hot Pot legend, and we’ll be its founders."
Xia Yingluo was thoroughly snowed.
Ye Chen exhaled in relief.
This girl was tough to fool.
Thank heaven for his past-life mories. To make the restaurant lose money he’d racked his brains... He was transplanting Xiabu Xiabu into Jiangzhou. The model had succeeded—but there was a catch.
Jiangzhou’s spending power.
In his past life, no Xiabu Xiabu had ever opened here.
Why?
Simple: Xiabu Xiabu looked down on a Third-tier City like Jiangzhou.
The model was proven, yet unsuited to the tis—and to a Third-tier City.
Ye Chen figured it couldn’t survive Jiangzhou’s consur base.
Otherwise Xiabu Xiabu wouldn’t have skipped the market.
This was Jiangzhou twelve years earlier; the idea was dood.
Smart as she was, Xia Yingluo sensed whether custors could afford it.
Too pricey and they’d balk, however good the food or concept.
That would squeeze operations.
But Ye Chen’s glib patter drowned those doubts in hype.
The model was sound—proven in his past life.
Yet it had a fatal flaw.
Jiangzhou’s current spending power couldn’t keep up.
That was the plan’s single lethal acupoint.
Seven or eight people could share a table of Hot Pot for barely a hundred yuan.
Fifty or sixty per head in 2008 Jiangzhou? Impossible.
The city was an under-developed third-tier town.
At current price levels, few locals would drop fifty-plus yuan for solo all-you-can-eat Hot Pot.
Ye Chen almost admired himself—what genius.
If he’d spouted so random money-losing sche, the astute Xia Yingluo would’ve vetoed it.
But wrap a shiny, "forward-thinking" concept in glossy packaging and she’d bite.
Just then, a commotion broke out nearby.
Li Sitong was arguing with Li Xu from their class.
"Li Xu, why didn’t you do your howork again? Auntie’s working herself to the bone to pay for your schooling—have you no sha?"
Ye Chen knew Li Xu was Li Sitong’s Cousin; they shared a classroom.
Li Sitong excelled, while Li Xu’s grades rivaled Ye Chen’s own rock-bottom scores.
Back then, as long as Li Xu didn’t skip, Ye Chen needn’t worry about last place.
Li Xu sat glued to a mobile ga, unbothered.
"Cousin, my grades are hopeless. No way I’m getting in."
"You won’t know unless you try!"
In truth Li Sitong couldn’t be bothered, but her aunt’s family was broke and had tearfully begged her to intervene.
Eyes still on the phone, Li Xu retorted, "Relax—college isn’t the only path."
Li Sitong sighed; there was nothing she could do if her Cousin refused to listen.
Watching the anxious Li Sitong, Ye Chen recalled his newly gained Phantom Dream skill.
He decided to help her—and test whether the skill actually worked.
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