Every night was account-balancing time for Mother Wen. She worked her calculator, adding and subtracting, until finally, the total reached a staggering figure: over two thousand yuan.
Although this amount didn’t yet account for rent, utilities, or ingredient costs, over two thousand yuan in a single day…
Mother Wen murmured to herself, “No wonder people say cold dishes and braised meats are where the money is.”
Even though she had heard stories about small braised-meat stalls in vegetable markets earning enough to buy a house in a year, she never had a real sense of it until now. Looking at it today, these items were convenient to prepare and had a guaranteed market; the profit margin was indeed much higher.
Since their shop used high-quality ingredients, they could maintain a cost-to-profit ratio of about four to six.
She couldn’t help but think of less scrupulous shops that used entirely frozen meat, loaded with braising pastes and essences, and topped off with a few drops of flavoring agents before serving. It was terrifying to imagine just how high the profit margins in those shops could be.
Mother Wen marveled for a moment and then confidently planned to make even more braised meat the next day.
“We’ll increase it steadily over the next few days to see what the baseline is. As for the cold dishes, we’ll keep the portions a bit smaller.”
Wen Fan had mentioned that cold dishes were best sold within two hours of being mixed. While they were still edible after that, the texture wouldn’t be as good as when they were fresh. Because of this, Father Wen was working double duty in the kitchen—busy with the claypot rice on one hand while mixing cold salads on the other.
However, once the braised and cold dishes were introduced, orders for Father Wen’s claypot rice became few and far between.
As the shop’s new offerings grew more diverse, customers had more choices. Since it was currently the hottest part of the year, the temporary cooling of interest in claypot rice was expected. It was likely that once the autumn breeze arrived, people would return to its warm embrace.
Mother Wen closed her ledger. “I’m going to buy some more stools tomorrow.”
Wen Fan suddenly interjected, “Mom, I’ll go with you tomorrow. I need to buy some reference books.”
“Sure,” Mother Wen replied. “After the books, let’s go window shopping and buy you some clothes.”
Wen Fan instinctively went to refuse. She truly didn’t care about what she wore. The original owner had plenty of clothes—mostly short-sleeved shirts and long pants—which Wen Fan found perfectly fine and convenient for moving around.
Mother Wen glanced at her daughter’s short hair. “Your old clothes were meant for long hair. Let’s get something that suits your short hair better.”
Wen Fan touched her hair and fell silent.
Mother Wen hummed a tune, feeling that life finally had something wonderful to look forward to.
Early the next morning, Mother Wen took Wen Fan to a second-hand market.
“There’s no need to buy brand-new folding tables.”
The restaurant industry had been tough these past couple of years, with shops closing down every month. When a shop failed, second-hand dealers would come to clear it out. Some shops were in such a rush that they would package the entire inventory for a dealer. Buying tables and chairs here was incredibly cheap.
Mother Wen asked at a couple of stalls and happened upon some second-hand furniture that had just been collected.
“This place used to be a snail rice noodle shop,” the dealer said, clicking his tongue. “Tut-tut, they barely lasted a month before they couldn’t go on. If you want them, you can take six tables and the matching chairs for a thousand yuan.”
Mother Wen was pleased. Because the shop had closed so quickly, the items were brand new. The tables were wide, and the chairs had backrests.
“Six hundred, and I’ll take the whole lot.”
“No way at that price! I can give you a hundred off at most.”
“Then I’ll keep looking.”
“…Eight hundred, eight hundred! This stuff is high-quality. A single table cost two hundred when they bought them.”
“Six hundred. If not, forget it.”
“Seven hundred! You have to let me make a little something.”
“Six hundred and fifty.”
“…Fine, fine! Take them!”
The second-hand dealer wore a pained expression.
Mother Wen whispered to Wen Fan, “Even at this price, he’s making at least fifty percent profit.”
Wen Fan nodded, feeling a newfound respect for Mother Wen.
Mother Wen meticulously checked the condition of the tables, unfolding each one to ensure they functioned smoothly. Only after she was satisfied did she use a delivery app to hire a van to send them to the shop.
As the dealer helped load the van, he called out, “Want to look at anything else? I’ve got a recently collected oven and rice cooker, as well as some stockpots and a brand-new gas stove—all ninety percent new.”
Wen Fan wasn’t interested in the other items, but her ears perked up at the mention of an oven.
Mother Wen took her daughter inside to look. A silver oven sat on a shelf, its protective film not even removed from the control panel.
“Has this been used?”
The dealer sighed. “Used? The owners said they were opening a pizza shop. They finished the renovations, but for some reason, the couple started fighting and quit. They didn’t even open for a single day.”
Perhaps because he had seen this many times before, the dealer quickly stopped lamenting and focused on pitching how famous the oven’s brand was.
“They were two young people; they bought the best of everything when they started. Everything is a brand-name item. There’s even a coffee machine back there.”
It was unclear what kind of strategy involved a pizza shop and a coffee machine.
The oven wasn’t the giant type used in bakeries, but a medium-sized one. Mother Wen opened the door to reveal four levels inside.
“This is a combination convection and deck oven. Don’t be fooled by its size; you can bake four six-inch cake bases on one level without a problem.”
Wen Fan looked curiously at the buttons. She thought of how she had specifically built three or four kiln ovens back in the palace just to make roast duck and baked flatbreads. Could a simple little box like this really handle everything in this modern era?
“How much for this?” Mother Wen asked directly, seeing that Wen Fan wanted it.
the dealer’s eyes shifted to the side. “Two thousand.”
Mother Wen immediately grabbed her daughter’s hand to leave.
“Wait, wait! Don’t go!”
Mother Wen said, “Give me a real price. You must have bought the whole shop in one go. Factoring it in, this thing is barely worth a thousand.”
The dealer looked a bit aggrieved. “This model sells for twenty-eight hundred brand new online!”
“And you know that’s for a new one.”
“Fifteen hundred. Take it or leave it.”
…
After another round of haggling, Mother Wen successfully secured the oven for eleven hundred yuan.
The mother and daughter loaded the oven onto the van and called Father Wen to receive it.
Mother Wen shook off the sharp energy from the bargaining and hopped on her electric scooter. “Come on, let’s go buy clothes and books.”
Wen Fan had already looked up which books she needed online, so she went straight to the educational section in the bookstore.
Mother Wen was afraid her daughter was trying to save money: “Buy a few more. It’s summer break, don’t just do practice problems.”
Other girls her age liked novels and comics; Mother Wen remembered Wen Fan used to like them too. She pointed at several books on a display stand: “See if there are any you like?”
Having lived in the deep palace for so long, Wen Fan had quickly reverted to a sense of routine in this new environment. Lately, she had only read textbooks and study guides. While she had the original owner’s collection of miscellaneous books in her mind, she hadn’t touched them once.
Mother Wen didn’t understand the genres, so she just picked up a few manga books and stuffed them toward Wen Fan. “Let’s get these too.”
Mother Wen still couldn’t quite get past the idea of romance novels. Her daughter was growing more beautiful by the day. She used to be a bit shy, but this summer she had seemingly opened up; she was poised and confident, with none of her previous awkwardness. Mother Wen occasionally kept a close eye even on Yang Tao and Qu Xiaoyu, afraid that her “precious cabbage” might be eyed by someone right under her nose.
Romance novels? No, no, no.
Manga, however, was acceptable.
Wen Fan obediently took the manga and decided to reorganize her schedule tonight—she would have to set aside time to read them tomorrow.
Father Wen received the tables and chairs at the shop, staring at the oven in bewilderment. Fortunately, Qu Xiaoyu and Yang Tao had arrived early to scavenge for food, so the three of them cleared a space in the kitchen for the oven.
Yang Tao wiped his sweat. “Why did Auntie Xia buy an oven? Planning to make roast duck?”
Actually, roast duck didn’t sound bad. Wrapping roast duck in thin pancakes… just the thought made Yang Tao hungry.
Father Wen had no idea why the oven was bought, but since it was here, his daughter would surely use it.
“Who knows. Let’s just put it here for now.”
The morning was moderately busy. Yang Tao and Qu Xiaoyu helped pick and wash vegetables, allowing them to have everything ready by roughly eleven o’clock.
Mother Wen returned with her daughter then.
Wen Fan pulled uncomfortably at her skirt. Mother Wen had bought her three or four outfits today, and Wen Fan felt awkward in the black-and-white academic-style dress she was currently wearing, but Mother Wen had insisted on it with sparkling eyes.
“This looks so good on you, we’re buying it.”
In the dress, the girl seemed to radiate light. Her short hair emphasized her long, slender neck, and the dress had a flattering cut at the shoulders, making her look youthful and vibrant.
“This is perfect. I was worried that being in the kitchen all day would make a young girl like you look too old-fashioned.”
Mother Wen paid the bill. “You’re wearing this dress today.”
Wen Fan was a bit helpless. “I’ll get it dirty.”
The kitchen was full of oil and sauces. If she wore a new dress in there, it would be unwearable by the evening.
Mother Wen replied, “There are aprons. And if it’s really inconvenient, you can just change when we get to the shop.”
When Wen Fan got off the scooter, Father Wen and the boys were stunned.
Yang Tao’s thick Northeastern accent slipped out again: “Oh my, what fairy has descended to earth?”
Mother Wen laughed, “Stop staring at her, you’re making her blush.”
Father Wen nodded. “It’s a good purchase. We’ll go buy more in a few days. Wife, why didn’t you buy anything for yourself?”
What was the point of earning money if not to spend it? Father Wen was stingy with himself but generous with his wife and daughter.
“I did. I bought something for you too.”
With the shop making money, Mother Wen instinctively wanted to improve the family’s quality of life. The white T-shirt Father Wen was wearing was three years old and had a small hole in the back, but he had been reluctant to replace it.
Mother Wen was the same. She had spent over a hundred yuan on a long dress today; alongside the sting of the price was a greater sense of satisfaction. The reality of their recent success was now physically draped over them.
“Let’s get to work!”
The busy lunch rush began again.
While Yang Tao and Qu Xiaoyu were out delivering meals, the shop was so busy there was nowhere to sit.
However, Mother Wen’s good mood didn’t last long. When Yang Tao and Qu Xiaoyu returned, they both had grim expressions.
“Auntie Xia, there’s something we need to tell you.”
Yang Tao was huffing with anger. “I saw Sun Mengyun and Wu Daneng while I was out delivering.”
Mother Wen was still confused. “Where? At the library?”
Qu Xiaoyu nodded. Usually silent, he spoke up now: “Sun Mengyun and Wu Daneng were handing out flyers at the entrance.”
He handed over a flyer they had secretly picked up.
Printed boldly on the flyer were the words: [Summer Lunch Program — 10 yuan per portion. Daily delivery, freshness guaranteed.]
Below were photos of various dishes.
[Freshly made, no pre-packaged food. Visible healthiness. If interested, please join the group.]
Yang Tao was fuming. “The nerve of those people! We’re on the same street, and they’ve stopped making their own rice noodles just to come and steal our business!”
Qu Xiaoyu silently handed Yang Tao a cup of water. On the way back, Yang Tao hadn’t stopped cursing them.
Mother Wen felt as if her head were exploding.
It wasn’t that she feared their business would be stolen, but the memory of Sun Mengyun prying for information in their shop two days ago made her feel nauseous. At the time, she only thought Sun was a bit of a mooch; who would have thought that while sitting in their shop, she was plotting how to hijack their business?
Father Wen’s expression also soured.
Ten yuan a portion—this was a clear price war.
Their daily orders had been growing, with over thirty portions for lunch today. With this sudden development, they didn’t know if their lunch orders would decrease.
Sure enough, after lunch was over, someone in the group chat said they wouldn’t be ordering for tomorrow.
Though it was only two people, others began to make snide remarks.
[Others are selling for ten, and you’re selling for fifteen. Even with delivery, it’s not worth that much.]
“Zhuangzhuang’s Grandma” posted that message, finally feeling a sense of satisfaction. Her grandson insisted on eating from this shop, so she didn’t dare change it on a whim, but she certainly dared to take a jab at them.
She curled her lip, thinking she was absolutely right. Ten yuan was enough for a set meal; why should this shop charge fifteen? As for the taste—kids these days were just spoiled. Back in the day, who couldn’t eat bark and grass roots?
Hmph, she was going to make them drop the price by a yuan or two this time!