Chen Li’s temper flared.
Wen Ying just wanted to win the bet, to prove herself—how was that “selling dog meat under a sheep’s sign”?
“Sis, what are you saying? Others might doubt Wen Ying, but you’re her mom—don’t you trust her? You raised her; you should know her best!”
Chen Ru sneered.
She knew her daughter well—Wen Ying used to be obedient, if not the sharpest. But since coming to Chengdu, she’d changed drastically.
Her wings had sprouted; she wouldn’t listen to her parents anymore. Could Chen Li really have nothing to do with this?
If Wen Ying’s midterm scores weren’t decent and she wasn’t tutoring in Chengdu, Chen Ru would’ve dragged her back home already.
They’d have to buy a place here. Three years of high school—Wen Ying couldn’t keep living with Chen Li. Her current bad habits could still be corrected!
Decision made, Chen Ru didn’t bother arguing with her sister. She stared at the distant stall, her expression flickering.
Chen Li sighed, exhausted. Wen Dongrong, observing, mused, “So those kids are Wen Ying’s new friends from Chengdu?”
Chen Li nodded eagerly. Her brother-in-law, though bureaucratic, was sometimes more reasonable than Chen Ru. “She gets along with them. Except Xie Qian, they’re all from the provincial key school—her future classmates. That’s why Deng Shangwei and I didn’t stop her. Their families didn’t object either, so it can’t be harmful, right?”
If you’re not clever, follow the clever ones.
Boss Qin and Wang Sr. ran big businesses—money wasn’t their kids’ concern. Qin Jiao and Wang Shuang, pampered as they were, still joined Wen Ying’s stall.
Even Li Mengjiao’s family didn’t mind—her dad led a state firm, outranking Wen Dongrong administratively. Chen Li had the tact not to say this aloud. To Chen Ru, Deng Shangwei’s millions didn’t lift him above his fishmonger past—his circle couldn’t be that elite.
Wen Dongrong nodded as Chen Li spoke. “It’s just day one. Let’s watch. If it flops, her drive’ll fizzle out. Confronting her now would just embarrass her in front of her friends.”
Back home, he wouldn’t care who Wen Ying befriended—small-town ties were worthless.
Chengdu was different.
A provincial capital, half the region’s resources flowed here—it’d only grow.
College friends, no matter how close, often scattered after graduation, rarely crossing paths or helping later.
High school was another story—mostly locals, rooted here. Connections with well-off peers now could pay off for decades, even a lifetime!
He kept that to himself.
Chen Ru wanted to snap back but was silenced by Wen Dongrong. She swallowed her words.
Spousal disagreements never aired in front of others—not even her sister.
—
Wen Ying didn’t know her venture had an audience of parents.
She was focused on attracting customers.
She knew plenty of tricks—hadn’t eaten pork, but she’d seen pigs run.
The question was usability.
Since she’d vowed to do it herself, she couldn’t cry to elders if the strip’s bosses bullied her.
Unsure how Xie Qian secured the spot, she feared overdoing it might spark backlash.
Where there were people, there was a pecking order. The night market strip’s waters ran deep—she’d scout tonight.
Dusk fell, and the strip hummed to life.
Foodies flocked to familiar haunts, ignoring the new stall.
Even the “free crayfish” banner didn’t sway them.
Everyone loves a deal, but they were wary.
A kids’ stall? Sketchy.
Wang Sr., spying from his car, fumed. “Free, and still no takers? These people have no taste!”
He nearly grabbed randos to fake a crowd—give Wang Shuang’s stall a kickstart.
Boss Qin stopped him. “Old Wang, hold off. Give them some faith.”
Wen Ying lingered by the stall, bored enough to swat flies.
The first business came from familiars—Geng Xiao and Tang Yifeng strolled up. Tang Yifeng teased her for excluding them while roping in Wang Shuang, Qin Jiao, and Li Mengjiao.
Wang Shuang grinned wide, hiding his battered hands. “Come, welcome new shareholders!”
Geng Xiao shook his head. “Your smile’s shady—I’m scared.”
Tang Yifeng smelled a trap too. Wang Shuang fumed—why was snagging shrimp-washing help so hard?
Geng Xiao and Tang Yifeng got VIP treatment—three or four “waiters” hovered, a sign of how dead the stall was.
Wen Ying served a plate of crayfish and some braised wings.
“Dig in—my treat tonight!”
“No way,” they protested. “We’re not freeloaders. No charge, no eating.”
Wang Shuang shoved Wen Ying aside. “Of course we’re charging! I slaved over those shrimp.”
Geng Xiao and Tang Yifeng came to support, not expecting much.
If it sucked, they’d nibble and pack the rest.
But it was good!
So why no customers?
Tang Yifeng asked, and Wen Ying smiled. “Mind hyping us up? Nothing wild—just honest plugs.”
Tang Yifeng glanced at Xie Qian, whispering, “Put Xie Qian out front eating a plate—this stall’d explode.”
Wen Ying glared.
Oh, you’re the only clever one?
She’d thought of that!
Using Xie Qian’s looks to lure folks? Sacrilege against a deity.
His beauty was ethereal, noble, untouchable—too grand for a measly stall.
Wang Shuang kicked Tang Yifeng’s stool. “Shout already—quit yapping!”
He hadn’t even made Xie Qian wash shrimp—how could he let Tang Yifeng’s dumb idea ruin him?
Forced into action, Tang Yifeng and Geng Xiao played hype-men.
One praised the crayfish, the other the sides. Their acting was so bad it backfired—people steered clear even more.
Xie Qian heard Tang Yifeng’s jab but brushed it off.
Only when a group approached did he stand.
The middle-aged leader beamed at him. “Young Xie, your stall’s up already? Gotta try it tonight!”
