Wu Na ordered a dinner delivery, and once the order was placed, she couldn’t even focus on her games. She kept checking the app every few minutes to see how far away her food was.
The moment she saw the distance close to thirty meters, she didn’t even wait for the doorbell. She buzzed the main gate open and left a message for the rider.
[The gate is open!]
She stood by the elevator, tapping her foot. Since she started eating from the Wen family’s shop, her biggest highlight of the day was waiting for that delivery.
Yang Tao adjusted his helmet as he handed the bag to Wu Na with a cheerful grin. “Wu Na, right? The Little Boss sent you a side of pickled peppers.”
Ever since seeing Wen Fan toss a heavy wok in the kitchen without breaking a sweat that afternoon, Yang Tao had officially started calling her the “Little Boss.”
Wu Na was stunned for a second, her brain cycling through questions—Who is this guy? Who is the Little Boss? A gift?—before it finally clicked.
“…Oh, you mean the girl from the restaurant. Are you her…”
Yang Tao laughed. “Did you notice the delivery fee dropped by a yuan? We aren’t going through the platform’s riders anymore. I’m the shop’s own delivery man, Yang Tao. Wen Fan sent those peppers to say thanks for helping her find those online courses.”
Lately, when Wen Fan wasn’t cooking or exercising, she was grinding through online lectures. She found them incredibly useful. She also remembered that the shop’s pickled peppers were always in high demand; several times when Wu Na had ordered them, Mother Wen had to call back apologetically to say they were out.
So, Wen Fan had made an extra batch specifically for her.
Wu Na felt a wave of warmth. “That’s so thoughtful.”
The Wens were just a family of three running a small shop; she hadn’t expected Wen Fan to remember her casual advice, let alone send a gift.
“How much do I owe—”
“Forget the money! Just leave a good review,” Yang Tao said enthusiastically. “Come on, let’s exchange contact info. A thirty-word review with pictures gets you a free drink.”
Mother Wen had recently stocked up on small, 200ml bottles of Coke. She planned to use them for promotions. While they didn’t do “X off Y” discounts, they offered a free Coke for orders over twenty yuan. Yang Tao, however, suggested that giving a drink for a high-quality review was better for long-term growth.
The results were immediate; they had gained four or five detailed reviews in just a few days. Wu Na readily agreed and added him.
Back in her cozy apartment, Wu Na was in a great mood. She snapped a photo of the pickled peppers and sent it to her mother to show off her “special treatment” from the Little Boss.
Her mother, Li Mei, replied almost instantly: [Perfect, I haven’t had dinner yet. Save some for me; I’ll eat them with porridge when I get back tonight.]
Wu Na chuckled. Since her appetite had improved, she wasn’t as obsessed with the peppers anymore, but Li Mei remained a die-hard fan. In her mother’s words, “This stuff looks ordinary, but it’s the ultimate partner for porridge.” Especially before a morning shift when you have no appetite, two bites of those peppers could bring you right back to life.
Wu Na opened the container. Tonight, she had ordered Fish-Flavored Shredded Pork over Rice.
When it came to rice toppings, tomato and egg was her number one, but Fish-Flavored Shredded Pork (Yuxiang Rousi) was easily in her top three. The complex profile of sour, sweet, salty, and spicy, combined with that thick, silky sauce, was practically born to be mixed with rice.
The sauce had melded with the rice during the trip. This wasn’t a time for chopsticks; it required a large spoon. One vigorous stir to turn it into a messy, delicious jumble, followed by a massive mouthful…
Wu Na narrowed her eyes in bliss.
As she was enjoying her meal, her phone chimed. A message from her friend Lin Miaomiao popped up over the lock screen.
[Nana, any plans for tomorrow? If not, let’s go out.]
Wu Na replied with one hand while keeping the spoon firmly in the other.
[No plans. Aren’t you studying for the civil service exam?]
Lin Miaomiao was a year ahead of her in school, a senior. They were from the same hometown and had been classmates since middle school, making them inseparable best friends.
Miaomiao replied quickly: [It’s too painful. I’m giving myself a day off tomorrow.]
Wu Na felt for her. Senior year was when all the pressure of adulthood hit at once. In previous summers, Miaomiao would ask her out every other day, but this year, she had been agonizing for weeks—torn between staying at school for grad school prep or coming home for the civil service exam. She eventually came home, but her messages were full of frustration.
[My mom wants me to prep for grad school, the civil service exam, AND public institution exams all at once. She just asked if I’m taking the teacher certification test too… Does she think I’m a thousand-armed Guanyin?!]
The pressure was suffocating.
[Anyway, I can’t focus at the library. I might as well give myself a day—or half a day—off!]
Wu Na comforted her: [Half a day is fine. Where do you want to go?]
[I don’t know.]
[How about I go to the library with you tomorrow? I heard it’s quite big, and I haven’t really explored it yet.]
Wu Na could tell Miaomiao’s mood was off. It wasn’t just the coursework; it was the lack of understanding from her parents. Even if they went out to have fun, Miaomiao would likely just feel guilty for wasting time. It was better to stay at the library but keep each other company.
[Perfect. I have a specialized takeout place to recommend to you.]
In the shop, Wen Fan watched a woman enter with a frown. Lunch and dinner rushes were over, and the Wens were tidying up to close for the day.
With business booming and the help of Yang Tao and Qu Xiaoyu, Mother Wen was all smiles as she checked the daily revenue. Father Wen was still perfecting his claypot rice, but in his spare time, he tried to replicate Wen Fan’s other dishes.
During this process, Wen Fan realized something disappointing: her father truly lacked innate culinary talent. He could repeat a drill a thousand times and follow her steps down to the second, but mindless replication isn’t the path to mastery.
Wen Fan could confidently say that even for a simple stir-fried vegetable dish, if Father Wen followed her exact steps, there would still be a 3% difference in the final flavor. That 3% was the gap between a good cook and a top-tier one—the intuitive “spark” that hard work can’t fully bridge.
So, Wen Fan pointed him toward a different path. At his age, learning heat control and seasoning from scratch was a race against time.
“Dad, why don’t you start with cold dishes and appetizers?”
With his excellent knife skills, appetizers were his best bet. Wen Fan demonstrated: “If you master cold dishes, we can add a ‘Cold Dish Platter’ to the lunch menu.”
She took some dried wheat gluten (Mianjin), soaked and boiled it, then drained it. In a large bowl, she combined minced garlic, sesame seeds, scallions, and chili flakes. She sizzled them with hot oil, then added sesame paste, light soy sauce, and vinegar. After a quick stir, she added salt and sugar.
Wen Fan tasted it and boldly added another spoonful of sugar and sesame oil.
“This dish can be a bit on the sweeter side. Also, we need to change the oil we use in the shop, and the garlic too. I’ll mix the chili flakes myself tomorrow, and you can take them to a shop to be ground into a fine powder.”
Mother Wen tried a piece of the Sesame Paste Gluten. She was used to her daughter producing incredible food followed by a lecture on how to make it even better. Father Wen, meanwhile, was scribbling furiously in his notebook.
They were still in the kitchen when a sharp female voice shouted from the front, asking if anyone was there.
“Sorry, we’re closed!” Mother Wen called out as she went to the front.
The visitor was Sun Mengyun, who ran a rice noodle shop a few doors down.
“Oh, Little Sun? Why are you eating so late?”
Sun Mengyun’s eyes darted around. “I got so busy I forgot to eat, Sister. Do you have anything left?”
If it were anyone else, Mother Wen would have just said no, but since they were neighbors on the same street, she offered to have Father Wen make a quick egg fried rice with some leftovers. “On the house.”
Sun Mengyun sat down without a hint of hesitation.
While Father Wen cooked, Wen Fan leaned against the counter, her gaze coolly scanning Sun Mengyun. The woman was busy chatting with Mother Wen, gossiping about other shop owners and asking how business was. When the fried rice arrived—a simple dish with just egg and scallions—Sun Mengyun praised it as if it were a divine delicacy.
“No wonder your business is so good lately, Brother-in-law’s skills are amazing.”
Mother Wen felt it was strange. Most of the regulars knew Wen Fan was the one doing the cooking now, so why was Sun Mengyun… Oh, right. Sun and her husband were notoriously stingy; they almost never ate out.
Mother Wen felt a bit of discomfort, remembering what other neighbors said about Sun Mengyun.
“That Little Sun is too much. If anyone has leftovers at night, she’ll act all friendly and ask if they still want them, just so she can get a free meal.”
“Tell me about it! I had some near-expiry snacks at my door for a clearance sale. She just walked by with her kid and took them. When I asked for the money, she said she thought I didn’t want them since they were expiring. I was so annoyed!”
Mother Wen kept her guard up and said nothing. Sun Mengyun seemed to have something on her mind, but after tasting the rice, she said no more. She finished her meal, wiped her mouth, and left.
Back at her own shop, Sun Mengyun spoke excitedly to her husband, Wu Daneng. “I saw it! The Wens are still the same; the food isn’t much different from before. I told you, it’s not that Old Wen got better; it’s just that rice platters are easy to sell right now.”
She nudged him hard. “Have you made up your mind? If we don’t pivot our shop now, school will be back in session in a month.”
Sun Mengyun had been watching the Wen family’s business grow day by day. When she saw Mother Wen hire the neighbor’s kids for delivery, she couldn’t sit still anymore.
“I’ve done the math. They’re making at least a thousand yuan a day. Think about it—and it’s only summer break!”
She was envious. She had tried Father Wen’s cooking when they first opened, and it was mediocre. How could that kind of skill be making so much money now?
“It’s just rice and noodles, how hard can it be? Our shop is about the same size. We don’t even need to renovate; just change the sign and buy two rice cookers.”
“We’ll buy pre-made noodles and prep the rice in advance. You can just stir-fry whatever. It’s actually easier than boiling rice noodles to order!”
Wu Daneng hesitated. “I just think we’re doing okay now. Rice noodles have a better profit margin than rice platters.”
“What are you talking about? How much noodle is actually in a twelve-yuan bowl? Rice platters are the way to go!”
Wu Daneng still lacked confidence. He had spent ten thousand yuan to learn how to make rice noodles; he couldn’t cook anything else well. “Besides, we’re on the same street. If we sell the same thing, aren’t we just picking a fight with them?”
“So what? She doesn’t own the business of selling rice! Everyone can do it. We’ll each use our own skills! Don’t be a coward. If they can do it, why can’t we?”
Sun Mengyun looked at him with exasperation. “The Wens were doing so poorly before, and now they’re booming. Aren’t you worried?”
Wu Daneng didn’t say anything. Why should I be worried? Their success is their success.
But Sun Mengyun was worried. That desperate urge to climb up was jumping out of her heart.
“They aren’t just doing walk-ins and regular delivery. You should look closer,” Wu Daneng suggested.
Sun Mengyun gave a mysterious smile. “I’ve already figured it out!”
She pulled out a promotional handheld fan—one of the ones Mother Wen had distributed.
“This is the secret to their success.”
To get this fan, she had first intercepted Yang Tao and tricked him into telling her that he delivers to the library every noon. Then, she went to the library herself.
She was shocked by what she saw—a sea of people all ordering takeout at noon. There were over a dozen racks at the entrance specifically for deliveries. She saw someone holding the fan and shamelessly asked for it.
She had cracked the code!
“We aren’t going to change the sign yet,” Sun Mengyun said with absolute confidence. “We’re going to grab this summer traffic. Tomorrow, I’m going to get some fans made and buy some lunch boxes. We’re going to start a ‘Summer Lunch Program’ too!”