Lin Qiao’er’s mind went blank. Her fingers tightened on the hem of her clothes, and she didn’t dare to breathe too loudly.
If only she had known that setting up a stall would lead to this, she would have smeared some dirt on her face beforehand.
Her skin was naturally fair; even if she got tanned, it would quickly recover.
“The pancake isn’t bad,” he said, stuffing the remaining piece into his mouth and speaking indistinctly. “But the person is even better.”
He reached out with his finger, still smeared with pancake crumbs, to lift Lin Qiao’er’s chin.
Lin Qiao’er turned her head away, took a step back, and instinctively covered her stomach with her hand.
Dao Ba Ming’s finger froze in mid-air. The smile on his face faded, and his eyes turned dangerous.
“Oh, still quite stubborn,” the yellow-haired guy behind him chuckled as he stepped forward. “Brother Ming, this chick doesn’t know what’s good for her.”
Zhao Moting held onto the handlebars of his bicycle.
He had come out to look for Chu Feng.
Lin Qiao’er’s situation had nothing to do with him.
But if he had seen an old lady being bullied today, could he have just stood by and done nothing?
Zhao Moting shook his head. He shouldn’t let his prejudice against Lin Qiao’er turn him cold-hearted.
He took a deep breath and walked over, staring coldly at the side of Dao Ba Ming’s face. “This is the first time I’ve heard about charging a stall fee for setting up a stall. Which unit are you representing?”
Dao Ba Ming turned his head to look at him and raised an eyebrow. “You, a pretty boy, want to play the hero and save the damsel? You should weigh your own worth first.”
Dao Ba Ming reached out to pat Zhao Moting’s cheek, but halfway there, Zhao Moting grabbed his wrist.
The two of them engaged in a silent struggle, sparks flying between them.
The two underlings caught sight of a police officer approaching from the corner of their eyes and quickly warned, “Brother Ming, there’s a cop.”
Dao Ba Ming’s eyes flashed with malice. “Did you call him?”
Zhao Moting released Dao Ba Ming’s wrist and didn’t answer.
Dao Ba Ming glanced back and waved his hand. “Let’s go.”
It wasn’t until their figures disappeared at the mouth of the alley that the entire street seemed to come back to life.
The old man selling wontons trembled as he raised his head and whispered, “Girl, you’ve offended him. Don’t come back here.”
Lin Qiao’er forced a smile. “Mm.”
The police officer walked up. “Brother Mo Ting.”
Zhao Moting nodded. “I’ll treat you to a meal later.”
The police officer smiled. “Don’t be so polite with me. The chief has helped my family a lot.”
After exchanging a few pleasantries, the police officer left.
Lin Qiao’er looked at the soy-sauce-flavored pancakes covered in dust, her heart aching with every twitch.
That was all her money.
Lin Qiao’er sighed as she looked at the dirty soy-sauce-flavored pancakes on the ground.
Remembering that Zhao Moting was still there, she said awkwardly, “Thank you for helping me.”
Zhao Moting nodded indifferently. The glow of the setting sun couldn’t warm his stern features.
“Have you seen Chu Feng?”
Lin Qiao’er shook her head. “Did something happen?”
Zhao Moting stared intently at Lin Qiao’er for a moment before saying, “It’s nothing.”
Zhao Moting turned and left to continue searching for Chu Feng.
The next day, before dawn had even broken, Lin Qiao’er was already up.
The kerosene lamp on the stove flickered, stretching her shadow long and short in turn.
The dough flipped back and forth on the cutting board. She kneaded it vigorously, not stopping even when her arms grew sore.
She had to earn back yesterday’s losses today.
With that thought, she kneaded the dough even harder.
The aroma of the pancakes slowly spread, seeping through the window cracks and waking up the entire building.
Just as she was frying the last pancake, the door suddenly knocked.
“Knock, knock, knock.”
Lin Qiao’er paused her dough-kneading, wiped her hands on her apron, and walked to the door. Without rushing to open it, she asked softly, “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Chu Feng.”
She quickly drew back the bolt.
Outside, Zhao Chufeng stood in the hallway, his hair slightly disheveled, dark circles under his eyes, looking rather worn out.
He wore a military-green police uniform and carried a cloth bag in his hand. Seeing Lin Qiao’er, he forced a smile, though it seemed strained.
He handed her the bag. “Qiao’er, I’m heading out on duty and brought you something.”
Lin Qiao’er took it and glanced inside.
It was a large bag of apples, big and bright red, looking crisp and sweet.
She took only one and handed the bag back. “One is enough for me. Keep the rest for the road.”
Zhao Chufeng didn’t take it. Instead, he pushed the apple into her palm, his broad hand warm. “Take your time eating them. You’re so thin. Eat more to build up your strength.”
Lin Qiao’er glanced down at her hands and feet. “I feel like I’ve actually gained weight recently.”
Since leaving her uncle’s home, she had been eating much better. Though she still had to get up early every morning to make pancakes, she only needed to work in the mornings, leaving her afternoons and evenings free.
Zhao Chufeng followed her gaze, and the tips of his ears turned faintly red.
He scratched his head and took a step back. “Well, I should go. The duty trip will take over ten days. I’ll come see you when I’m back.”
Chu Feng paused. “It’s not easy for you, being an outsider here. If anything happens, you can ask my brother for help. I’ve already spoken to him. He might seem cold, but he’s reliable.”
Lin Qiao’er couldn’t help but recall the scene from yesterday—how Zhao Moting had stepped in, or else Dao Ba Ming would have bullied her endlessly.
But she still felt a lingering resentment toward Zhao Moting and would never seek his help on her own.
Still, she couldn’t dismiss Chu Feng’s kindness.
Lin Qiao’er nodded, watching his retreating figure as he went downstairs.
Chu Feng hadn’t mentioned their marriage at all. It seemed the matter was likely off.
She sighed, closed the door, and returned to the stove to finish frying the last pancake, placing it in a basket.
The sun had barely peeked out from behind the clouds when Lin Qiao’er stepped out, carrying two baskets on a shoulder pole.
The baskets were filled with freshly made savory pancakes, covered with white cotton cloth. The aroma was impossible to contain, wafting through the air as she walked.
When she reached the entrance of the automobile factory, some customers who had just finished their night shifts were waiting, hungry and eager for a bite.
“Qiao’er, two for me.”
“I’ll take three. I’m starving.”
Lin Qiao’er responded with a smile, deftly picking up the pancakes, packing them, and collecting the money.
She had thought Li Dahua’s scene yesterday might hurt her business, but instead, it seemed even busier.
Everyone knew good food when they tasted it.
Customers came one after another. She was so busy she didn’t even have time to take a sip of water. A fine layer of sweat beaded on her forehead, and strands of hair stuck to her face, but she had no time to wipe them away.
Zhou Jianjun was selling soybean milk nearby. Seeing her overwhelmed, he would occasionally help by handing her brown paper bags.
The two worked together seamlessly, making things much faster than if she were alone.
Lin Qiao’er was just counting change for a customer when a childish voice suddenly echoed in her mind:
“Mom, run! The Commerce and Industry Bureau is coming to raid!”
“If they catch you, they’ll confiscate everything and fine you.”
Her fingers stiffened, nearly dropping the coins.
Without time to think, she quickly tucked the money pouch into her bosom, covered the baskets with cloth, and repeatedly apologized to the customers in line, “Sorry, sorry, something came up today, I can’t sell anymore. Really sorry.”
A few people in line weren’t happy. Someone grumbled, “We’ve been waiting in line for so long, and you just decide not to sell?”
Others, sharp-eyed, noticed Lin Qiao’er’s pale face—it didn’t seem fake—and didn’t say anything more, turning to leave.
Zhou Jianjun, holding a bowl of soybean milk, came over with a puzzled look. “Qiao’er, what’s wrong? Did something happen at home?”
Ever since he started setting up his stall with Lin Qiao’er, his income from selling soybean milk had also increased significantly.
In his eyes, Lin Qiao’er was his benefactor.
Lin Qiao’er was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan. While packing up her things, she lowered her voice and spoke rapidly, “Jianjun, run! The Industrial and Commercial Bureau is coming!”
Zhou Jianjun’s heart leaped into his throat at the news.
If the Industrial and Commercial Bureau showed up, not only would their goods be confiscated, but they’d also face fines and detention.
For street vendors like them, without licenses or designated spots, getting caught meant being caught red-handed.
But he didn’t understand how Lin Qiao’er knew.
“How did you find out?” he asked in a hushed voice, already scrambling to pack up.
Lin Qiao’er didn’t know how to explain it at the moment.
She couldn’t exactly say, “The baby in my belly told me.”
She vaguely replied, “I heard yesterday that vendors in other places got caught. They’re cracking down these days. I don’t think it’s worth the risk.”
Zhou Jianjun nodded repeatedly, finding it reasonable. “That’s true. Better safe than sorry.”
Lin Qiao’er deliberately raised her voice so the nearby vendors could hear, giving them a heads-up. They were all ordinary folks, struggling to get by.
“Anyway, I don’t dare to set up anymore. The money we make isn’t even enough to cover the fines.”
The aunt selling steamed buns overheard and inwardly scoffed at her cowardice.
If she wanted to leave, so be it. With one less person sharing the business, they could sell a few more items.
The scallion pancake vendor, seeing Lin Qiao’er about to leave, curled her lip. “In such a hurry, I wonder if she’s rushing off to meet a man.”
She exchanged a knowing glance with the steamed bun aunt, both understanding the implication.
Two clever vendors, seeing Lin Qiao’er’s genuine distress, hesitated for a moment before starting to pack up as well.
Lin Qiao’er couldn’t worry about others anymore. She hoisted her carrying pole and left.
The baskets were heavy, pressing down on her shoulders. She walked hurriedly, the pole swaying at both ends, the pancakes inside jostling, and the white cotton cloth nearly slipping off.
Just ten meters away, a commotion suddenly erupted behind her.
“Don’t run! Stop right there!”
“Put your things down!”
Lin Qiao’er’s heart pounded with fear, and she quickened her pace.
She had no family or acquaintances here. If she were caught, there’d be no one to bail her out.
Her back was drenched in sweat, her shirt soaked and clinging to her spine. The wind blew, sending a chill through her.
In her panic, she didn’t watch her step and stumbled into a pothole.
Her ankle twisted sharply, a searing pain shooting up from her foot. She hissed, nearly losing her balance.
The carrying pole swayed, and the baskets almost tipped over.
Gritting her teeth, she ignored the pain and limped forward.
But her ankle swelled more with each step, every movement feeling like needles pricking her, slowing her down.
Behind her came the sound of wheels rolling over the road.
Lin Qiao’er’s heart pounded wildly. She didn’t dare look back, afraid she might see someone in uniform.
“Lin Qiao’er, stop.”
Her heart skipped a beat.