Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 308 A Way to Cure the Problem

P.S.: Sorry
“One of you has betrayed me.”

"Or a few."

When the group members saw this message, they were completely bewildered.

"Old Ma, what are you babbling about? Did Jesus appear in your dream?"

“Jesus didn’t do that,” Ma Zhaodi typed in the group chat. “But two people on the street found out where I was today.”

“Isn’t that normal?” another Liuzi replied, “You can only sell food if you meet people at a stall. You’re not going to sell food in the middle of nowhere.”

“But these two are not isolated cases.” Ma Zhaodi continued typing: “Recently, the people who come to buy pastries don’t seem to be just randomly browsing. It’s like they all come prepared. After they arrive, they don’t ask what they have, and they just start buying a certain kind of pastry, starting with six or seven pieces at a time.”

"Would a normal person buy food from a food cart like this? Shouldn't most people at least ask first and then buy a couple to try? Why did they know the names of the snacks right away?"

"Ah, this"

“The people who come to me live in different areas, come from different social classes, work in different places, and their species are almost enough to fill half a gender table—they only have one thing in common.”

"."

At this moment, all the members of the group fell silent, because they recalled what had happened in the past three months and knew what Ma Zhaodi wanted to say.

"That's right, at least one person of Chinese descent in their social circle."

Ma Zhaodi angrily rebuked the group members: "Tell me, tell me, where did they get the information about the food truck? How did they know what kinds of snacks the food truck was selling? Why didn't they question the taste of the snacks?"

"Or let me put it another way—how many people did you BYD guys actually distribute my snacks to?"

"Ahem, Old Ma, you know, your cooking is absolutely delicious."

"Yeah, yeah, you only sell 90% of your stock each day, and you even have to leave some to sell on the street—and you even limit the number of purchases per person. What a waste! What do foreigners know? They might even complain in their hearts that the pastries aren't sweet enough, that it's like a cow chewing on a peony—unlike me, I'll just rave about your pastries."

"Asking locals to buy for us is a last resort. You won't let us come to your food truck anyway—we've already paid for it, so what's wrong with eating a little more!"

"Yeah, yeah, there was a teacher who really disliked me before, and he even said he would give me a C at the end of the semester. I had no choice but to give your snacks as a gift, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten this A."

"Sigh, your way of delivering snacks is so unprofitable, you're so foolish! The snacks I bought last time went missing, and when I asked around, I found out that my cousin who lives here took them. He said he secretly delivered them to the boss's daughter, and she really liked them—I feel like if I keep doing this for a few more months, the boss will have another son-in-law."

"I'm so mad! Why didn't you say so sooner if you had such a great idea? If I'd known, I wouldn't have shown off all the desserts."

"Hey, can you guys stop for a second?" Ma Zhaodi felt his fist hardening. "Do you guys even know that two gangsters hired by mobsters found my food truck today? I'm being watched, guys!"

"I was lucky today to run into a few police officers. What if I encounter something like this again, and they send a whole van full of people to deal with me? I'm begging you, next time if you see a food truck, please don't report my location, thank you."

"And what the hell did you guys create in Central City? A snack gang? Don't try to bribe your superiors with my snacks, okay? We're not a cult, and I'm not selling ice cream!"

"Ah, yes, yes, yes, yes."

"In short, no matter what you think," Ma Zhaodi continued, "I'm pretty sure that a group of locals in the central city who were buying the products have already started buying them for themselves. They're not stupid; they can tell whether something is good or not just by tasting it themselves. If you spread this even faster, all the daigou (personal shoppers) will become big mouths that intercept the goods, and then you'll know what cruelty is."

Seeing the chat in the group quiet down, Ma Zhaodi finally breathed a sigh of relief. After today's incident, his safety as a vendor should improve a lot—at least he wouldn't have to be constantly reported by all the other vendors.

“Hey, Joe.”

“Jimmy?” Joe, holding a latte, came to Jimmy’s side. “How did it go? Did those two say anything?” “They won’t say anything.” Jimmy shook his head. “Even though the food truck vendor explained everything, the two of them insist on waiting for a lawyer.”

"It doesn't sound like a first offense."

“He’s from out of town and has a long criminal record,” Jimmy explained. “We found a handgun on the skinny guy, it was loaded, he was probably planning to kill someone.”

“For a gang to so blatantly hire someone to kill someone—even if it was an attempted murder—it’s utterly disregarding the Midtown Police Department.”

"I'm more worried about the food truck owner than that. If the gang really takes him out, we'll have to switch back to donuts for afternoon tea."

"Wait, who are the gang going to kill?"

During a break in their conversation, Superintendent Singh happened to pass by.

"Uh, the owner of the food truck, we usually buy some 'snacks' from him for afternoon tea."

Singh raised an eyebrow.

"You mean that little cake we usually eat?"

"Correct."

"The one I usually bring back for my boyfriend?"

"Uh, yes."

"It's just too much!"

Singh immediately glared at him angrily: "What do you think Central City is? How can you so brazenly hire someone to commit murder?!"

"There's no need to wait for their confessions. Let's arrest those unscrupulous gang members and vagrants first!"

"Ahem, Inspector Singh, it's not that bad, it's not that bad."

An experienced police officer quickly intervened, saying, "This kind of operation is wasteful of manpower and resources, and it's a waste of money and manpower. We're a police station, not a charity; we can't act impulsively."

“Wait, wait.” Jimmy suddenly spoke up: “Actually, this isn’t all bad. Several thousand Chinese students have just expressed their desire to crowdfund donations to the police department—totaling about two million dollars.”

“They said they hoped the money would help protect conscientious food truck entrepreneurs in the city center from gang persecution.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the officer immediately released Singh's hand.

Joe and Eddie exchanged a glance.

Have you ever seen this situation before?

"Chinese students doing this? I've never seen anything like it."

Will we be able to get home on time tonight?

"Stop thinking about it." Joe patted him on the shoulder. "Let's protect our conscientious food truck entrepreneurs first."

(End of this chapter)