Old Hou, the former boss, grew more awkward, rubbing his hands, at a loss for words.
Big Liu, the barbecue shop owner, had a sudden realization, “Director Lü, is Little Wen looking to rent this courtyard?”
Lü nodded, “Haven’t decided yet, just showing them around.”
Lü couldn’t give Big Liu a hard time, this was Old Hou’s mess. The street office knew Old Hou wanted to transfer, so they confirmed his fee demands, Lü checked the place himself, then told Wen Ying.
Lü didn’t insist Old Hou had to transfer to “Shrimp King,” but Wen Ying hadn’t even replied, and here was Old Hou, rushing to show Big Liu the place, what was that about?
Big Liu was sharp, mentally cursing Old Hou’s sloppy move.
Old Hou would leave Night Market Street after the transfer, but Big Liu was staying!
Seeing Lü all the time, how awkward would that be? Plus, snatching a shop from kids, Big Liu would feel embarrassed if word got out.
He cupped his hands, “I heard Little Wen’s crew was eyeing Old Hou’s place, just came to check. Old Hou, don’t see their age and jack up the price, these students are hustling, donated all their food festival earnings to charity!”
Old Hou’s eyes bulged.
What was Liu getting at, backing out in front of Lü?
Old Hou had zero interest in cutting his profit to support student startups. He’d gone to Big Liu privately to avoid Lü strong-arming him into lowering the fee.
They’d nearly settled on a transfer fee, but Big Liu insisted on seeing the place, leading to this clash!
Wang Shuang glanced at Old Hou, then Big Liu.
Old Hou didn’t want to rent to “Shrimp King,” so he found Big Liu, now Big Liu was hesitating…
“Wen Ying, do we absolutely need this shop?” Wang Shuang asked.
Wen Ying played along, shaking her head like a rattle, “We don’t have that kind of cash, 40,000 transfer fee’s too steep, can’t afford it.”
Old Hou’s business here predated the millennium, Night Market Street wasn’t exactly upscale, his “renovations” were just whitewashed walls and tiled floors.
Whether Old Hou recouped that cost was debatable, but now, with yellowed walls, greasy tiles, chipped tables, and years-old kitchen gear, it wasn’t worth 10,000, yet he demanded 40,000. With the street’s traffic up, Old Hou, bitter about his own flop, wanted to gouge the next tenant.
Spend 40,000 on junk?
If this were Wen Ying’s only option, she’d grit her teeth, haggle, and shave off what she could.
But Chengdu had plenty of shops for transfer.
If Night Market Street didn’t work, she’d look elsewhere.
Plenty of spots with good parking if you searched!
Wen Ying decided to let Old Hou stew, saying the fee was too high, and turned to leave.
Lü caught her drift, nodding, “No rush, I’ll keep an eye out for other places.”
The three left, Old Hou stood there, stunned.
Just walk away like that?
What’s with kids these days? Business is about high asks and low counters, right?
If the fee’s too much, throw out a number, negotiate, not just ditch the deal!
Old Hou wanted to gripe, then saw Big Liu, bolting after Wen Ying’s group like a dog was on his tail.
“Hey, you—” Old Hou slapped his thigh, fuming.
Big Liu, huffing with his bulk, caught up, “You really want Old Hou’s shop? He’s slippery, sold watered-down beer here, tasted so weak you could raise fish in it. Customers aren’t dumb, one or two visits, they’re done. He asks 40,000, chop it down hard!”
Old Hou’s shady ways, Big Liu spilled without mercy.
He couldn’t explain to Lü, so he stuck to Wen Ying.
She smiled, “Honestly, it’s not like we need his shop, it’s just open, so we looked. For Night Market Street, I only trust Lü’s recommendations.”
Lü’s expression softened.
Old Hou, old as he was, acted like a fool, no wonder his business tanked, less straightforward than a teenage girl!
Wen Ying’s tact made Lü ask Big Liu, “Did Old Hou promise you the shop? Your barbecue place is thriving, why move?”
Big Liu glanced at Wen Ying, unsure if he should be straight.
Wang Shuang shrugged, “Brother Liu, you thinking shrimp too? Nice, you’ve got an eye.”
Big Liu didn’t just want shrimp, he dreamed of a shrimp-and-beer joint in that courtyard, munching shrimp, chicken feet, duck heads, chill vibes in the bustle!
Wen Ying got it.
Competition, it’s everywhere.
Big Liu was a good guy, but his kindness didn’t mean she’d go soft.
Goodness shouldn’t be a leash, Wen Ying hadn’t patented shrimp sales, if the law and market allowed Big Liu’s business, who was she to block?
Still, she wanted that courtyard, so did Big Liu, without overbidding to fatten Old Hou’s wallet, it was a fair fight.
Big Liu was surprised.
Most adults couldn’t stay that open-minded.
Even good neighbors or friends often fell out when one copied the other’s business, the original always got mad!
But that’s commerce, chase the profit. Big Liu saw “Shrimp King” clear hundreds of pounds of braised shrimp nightly, did the math on gross profits, and his heart raced.
He wasn’t after Wen Ying’s recipe, if they could sell shrimp, why couldn’t he?
Big Liu felt righteous, but Wen Ying and Wang Shuang’s chill vibe made him second-guess.
“Maybe I’ll find another spot…” he started.
Wen Ying cut in, “Hold off on that, Brother Liu, ever thought about franchising?”
Franchise what?
KFC, Dicos, sure, but Wen Ying meant franchising “Shrimp King”?
Him, Night Market Street’s top barbecue boss, joining a pop-up shrimp stall? That’s a tough sell!
“Brother Liu, think about it. Your barbecue’s killing it, but starting a shrimp shop means hiring someone trusty to run it, right? These days, it’s not just about quality, next summer, Chengdu’s gonna be crawling with shrimp stalls. Everyone’s selling, how do customers pick? A strong brand, that’s how, one they remember, so they head straight to it for shrimp. Franchise with us, pay a fee, we handle the rest, you save headaches, and both shops stay manageable!”
In Wen Ying’s pitch, “Shrimp King” was Chengdu’s KFC.
Wild talk, but scary thing was, Big Liu kinda bought it.
What’s going on?
Give up Old Hou’s shop to Wen Ying, and still fork over cash for her?
