However, Lin Qiao’er knew nothing about all this. She had other things on her mind.
Making pancakes required flour, sugar, oil, and sauce—all of which could only be bought with grain ration coupons.
She didn’t have many coupons left, and they were about to run out.
Buying coupons through official channels meant standing in long lines and providing various documents. As an out-of-towner with incomplete paperwork, it was a huge hassle.
Someone told her that the black market also sold them, though the prices were higher.
The black market here didn’t operate at night—it was open during the day.
At night, no one dared to come out for fear of being caught.
During the day, with more people around, it was actually safer.
After asking for the address, Lin Qiao’er headed there.
The black market was hidden in a narrow alley, winding and twisting so much that anyone unfamiliar with the area would never find it.
At the entrance stood an old man with a hunched back, his hair gray and his face wrinkled like old tree bark. Yet his eyes were sharp, darting around as he watched the people coming and going.
He was the lookout.
Lin Qiao’er walked up to him and slipped two cents into his hand.
The old man quickly pocketed the money without even lifting his eyelids, shifting slightly to let her pass.
Lin Qiao’er slipped into the alley.
Inside, there were quite a few people, selling all sorts of things.
Lin Qiao’er found the man selling grain ration coupons—a middle-aged man with a long, thin face and narrow, squinting eyes, clearly a shrewd character.
“How do you exchange the coupons?”
The man looked her up and down. “National or local coupons?”
“Local ones will do.”
“Ten cents per jin of coupons, plus a two-cent handling fee.”
Lin Qiao’er did a quick mental calculation—it was nearly double the price of the official channels.
Gritting her teeth, she counted out a few yuan and bought several jin worth of coupons.
Just as she clutched the coupons in her hand, before she could even stuff them into her pocket, a commotion suddenly erupted at the entrance of the alley.
Someone shouted at the top of their lungs, “Run! The police are coming…”
The voice was like a drop of oil falling into water, instantly causing chaos.
The vendors squatting on the ground grabbed their goods, stuffed them into their arms, and took off running.
The buyers panicked too, pushing and shoving as they scrambled to get out.
Lin Qiao’er’s mind went blank with a buzzing sound.
She stuffed the coupons into her pocket and turned to run.
Her heart pounded wildly, as if it were about to leap out of her throat.
Lin Qiao’er dashed into a side alley, the sound of footsteps growing closer behind her.
In her panic, she lost her footing, her shoes slipping, and she nearly fell.
A large hand suddenly reached out from the shadows, accurately grabbing her wrist and pulling her forcefully.
She crashed into a hard chest, her nose hitting the other person’s collarbone. A sharp, sour pain exploded instantly, bringing tears to her eyes.
“Let me go…” She struggled desperately, kicking and punching like a frightened rabbit.
The man grunted but didn’t budge an inch.
“It’s me.”
A low, slightly hoarse voice, so pleasant it could make one’s ears melt.
Lin Qiao’er froze.
That voice…
A faint scent of sandalwood lingered around her nose, mixed with the crisp, clean scent unique to a man.
Her heart tightened sharply as she slowly looked up.
A cold, hard face was right in front of her.
High nose, deep-set eyes, thin lips slightly pressed together, and a jawline as sharp as if it had been carved with a knife.
Light slanted in from the alley entrance, casting stark shadows across the angles of his face.
Zhao Moting.
He looked down at her, his eyes dark and sharp, like a deep winter pond, devoid of any warmth.
“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered, his breath brushing against her forehead.
Lin Qiao’er’s mind exploded.
He had her pinned against the wall, her back pressed against the rough bricks, the cold lime digging painfully into her skin.
His body was like a solid wall, completely enveloping her, leaving no room to breathe.
She couldn’t move, and even breathing became difficult.
The man’s face lowered a few more inches, his nose almost touching the top of her hair.
His warm breath brushed against her forehead, eyelashes, and cheeks, carrying an invasive heat.
Lin Qiao’er’s entire body stiffened, her eyelashes trembling violently, her fingers digging desperately into the cracks in the wall, her nails sinking into the moss.
She didn’t dare look at him, yet his presence was everywhere, like a net wrapping her from head to toe.
Uncontrollably, her mind flashed back to that night.
The wheat field, the heavy darkness, the rough panting, and this same sandalwood scent.
Her face flushed instantly, reddening from her neck all the way to her ears, her breath trembling.
She bit her lip, desperately trying to push those images away.
Putting aside his character, his face was indeed handsome.
“Getting cozy in broad daylight.” A mocking laugh came from the mouth of the alley.
Lin Qiao’er glanced over from the corner of her eye—two police officers were looking their way.
“Stop staring, let’s hurry and chase them.”
The other one tugged at him, and the two ran off.
The moment their footsteps faded, Zhao Moting released her and took two steps back.
The oppressive feeling vanished abruptly, and Lin Qiao’er’s legs went weak, nearly causing her to slip to the ground.
Leaning against the wall, she gasped for air like a fish thrown ashore.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.
Zhao Moting adjusted his cuffs, his tone indifferent. “I didn’tt want to get caught either.”
He paused, as if feeling no need to explain further.
It was his first time at the black market too. He had bought a watch for each of his parents, but his younger sister had thrown a tantrum, demanding one as well. Without any industrial coupons left, he had no choice but to come here to buy one.
The two walked out of the alley one after the other.
Zhao Moting took large strides, quickly moving ahead.
She thought they would part ways just like that.
After walking seven or eight steps, his voice suddenly came from behind, casual and indifferent, as if spoken offhandedly. “Your face is too eye-catching.”
Lin Qiao’er halted, turning around abruptly.
Zhao Moting had already turned away, striding forward without looking back.
She stood there, clenching her fists.
That didn’t sound like a compliment at all.
Every time she ran into him, she ended up in a sorry state.
She took a deep breath, suppressing the vague, indescribable emotions rising within her.
Before dawn the next day, Lin Qiao’er set up her stall as usual.
The aroma of her savory pancakes had just begun to waft through the air when a regular customer approached.
“Two, please.”
Before he could finish speaking, a middle-aged woman in a blue blouse suddenly rushed over, clutching her stomach, her face pale. Pointing at Lin Qiao’er, she shouted, “Don’t buy from her! Her food isn’t clean. I ate it and had diarrhea all night.”
Her voice was sharp and piercing, immediately drawing everyone’s attention.
The line dispersed as people turned to buy breakfast elsewhere.
Lin Qiao’er stood frozen behind her stall, still holding her spatula, facing the curious gazes of onlookers.
Some whispered among themselves.
Others took pleasure in her misfortune.
A few frowned, worried on her behalf.