Old Deng awakens: He starts by eliminating the yoga pants in the county town!

The signboard for Fatty's Stir-Fry is still there, but half of the lightbox is off.

The character "胖" (pàng, fat) is highlighted, while the three characters "子爆炒" (zǐ bào chǎo, stir-fried) are blacked out.

A sign on the door reads "Prime shop for sale".

Lin Dawei parked his car at the entrance.

Zhang Dahai sat in the passenger seat and didn't get out of the car for a long time.

He stared at the red transfer notice, his throat tightening.

Lin Dawei pushed open the door, walked to the front, and tore off the red paper.

With a ripping sound, the red paper was torn in two.

Zhang Dahai suddenly shuddered.

"Brother Wei..."

Lin Dawei ignored him, grabbed the iron handle at the bottom of the roller shutter, and lifted it up.

Splash!

As the iron gate rolled up, a strong smell of stale oil wafted out.

Lin Dawei touched the switch on the wall.

Snapped.

The old shop is still the same as before.

Zhang Dahai walked to the door, but he didn't dare to go in.

Lin Dawei turned to look at him.

"Stand there like a door god?"

Zhang Dahai lowered his head and slowly moved in.

The soles of the shoes rubbed against the ground, stirring up a layer of dust.

He walked to the kitchen door curtain, reached out his hand, and then stopped.

The thick fingers hovered in mid-air and trembled.

Lin Dawei didn't urge him.

Outside, the sounds of loudspeakers, motorcycles, and barbecue stalls echoed through the county town at night.

The shop was eerily quiet.

Zhang Dahai finally lifted the curtain and went inside.

He stood in front of the stove.

Lin Dawei leaned against the door frame and lit a cigarette.

Do you know how to bake?

Zhang Dahai had his back to him, his shoulders slumped.

"Won't."

Do you understand franchising?

"don't know."

"Can you shoot short videos?"

"Won't."

"So what can you do?"

Zhang Dahai looked down at the pot.

After a moment, he said softly, "I can cook."

Lin Dawei exhaled a puff of smoke.

"Then let's cook some vegetables."

Lin Dawei walked over and patted the pot.

The sound was muffled and loud.

"Your pot is worth more than that lousy French brand."

Zhang Dahai's eyes reddened again, but this time he didn't speak up for that woman.

He just lowered his head, his shoulders twitching.

Lin Dawei ignored him.

When a man is reduced to this state, it's not shameful for him to shed a couple of drops of urine.

What's shameful is not being able to get up.

"Do you still offer credit at the farmers' market?"

Zhang Dahai wiped his face. "Can I get some on credit?"

"Old Zhang and I used to be familiar with each other."

"I've been too ashamed to see him these past few days."

Lin Dawei closed the freezer door. "How much is your face worth?"

"I'll go in a bit."

"It's not enough, I'll fill in the gaps first."

Zhang Dahai hurriedly turned around.

"Don't!"

"Brother Dawei, you've already helped me enough."

Lin Dawei slapped him on the back of the head.

Snapped.

Zhang Dahai shrank his neck.

"Stop talking nonsense."

"It's only a couple thousand yuan, not hundreds of thousands for getting you a wife."

Zhang Dahai pursed his lips, holding back tears that didn't fall.

Lin Dawei took out his phone and called Lao Ma. The phone rang several times before he answered.

The sound of mahjong tiles clattering came from the other end of the line. "Dawei, what's up?"

Lin Dawei looked at the yellowed wall tiles in the shop.

Don't eat tonight.

"what?"

"Zhang Pangzi's shop is reopening. Call over a few drivers from the station."

"Stir-fried pork with pancakes, fried rice with egg, and pork kidney."

Old Ma was silent for half a second, then chuckled.

"Didn't he go open some kind of Western-style pastry shop?"

Lin Dawei's voice turned cold.

"Ask less."

"Okay, I'll call someone."

After hanging up the phone, Lin Dawei sent messages to two drivers who frequently drove at night.

Zhang Dahai was wiping the stove with a rag in the back kitchen.

Lin Dawei stood at the door and glanced at it, his anger subsiding slightly.

Half an hour later.

Old Zhang from the vegetable market grumbled and gave me two baskets of vegetables.

"Fatty Zhang still owes me money for the scallions from last time."

Lin Dawei scanned the QR code and transferred 1,000 yuan.

Old Zhang was still cursing when he stuffed another bag of garlic into his hand.

"Tell him to stop with all that fancy stuff."

"Fried pancakes it is."

"Baking my ass."

Lin Dawei carried the groceries back home.

The first truck had already stopped in front of the store.

Old Ma jumped out of the car, followed by two drivers.

One was thin, the other was dark-skinned; both were familiar faces at the freight station.

Old Ma started yelling as soon as he walked in.

"Fatty!"

"Where are your French desserts?"

"How about some foie gras macarons for you guys?"

In the kitchen, the sound of spatulas stopped for a moment.

Zhang Dahai's face peeked out from behind the curtain, flushed red. He opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything.

The two drivers laughed along.

Lin Dawei put the two baskets of vegetables on the ground.

boom.

The shop was quiet.

He sat down at the old table near the door.

"Stop talking nonsense."

"If you're so capable, get a Frenchman to stir-fry some pork kidneys for you."

Old Ma chuckled.

The two drivers laughed too, but this time the laughter had a different flavor; it wasn't harsh anymore.

Zhang Dahai retreated back into the kitchen.

A few seconds later, the stove was lit.

boom.

The flames shot up half a foot high.

Lin Dawei sat at the old table, and his stomach rumbled.

He was really hungry today.

He waited.

The spatula is used to strike the iron pot.

when.

when.

when.

Zhang Dahai's movements became faster and faster; he flipped his wrist and pushed the pot forward.

The flames licked the bottom of the pot.

Sweat streamed down his forehead and dripped into his apron.

He seemed to have finally found his breath.

When the first plate of shredded pork stir-fried with pancakes was served, Lin Dawei picked up a bite with his chopsticks.

It was so hot it made my tongue numb, but the taste was still the same.

The sauce is rich and flavorful, the shredded meat is tender, and the pancake strips have absorbed plenty of oil.

It's more practical than any French dessert, internet celebrity franchise, or female consumer upgrade.

Old Ma took two bites and gave a thumbs up.

"Isn't this better than small cakes?"

Zhang Dahai forced a smile, an ugly one, but better than the dead man's face under the bridge.

People arrived one after another, and seven or eight drivers filled the small shop.

Some people ordered fried rice with eggs, while others ordered pork kidneys.

Some people even asked Zhang Dahai to add more spice.

The store got lively.

The light box was half broken, and the room was not bright.

But once the stove is burning brightly and there are many voices around, this shabby shop comes alive.

After finishing a large plate of fried pancakes, Lin Dawei ordered another plate of egg fried rice.

The hunger was suppressed by carbohydrates, and the soreness in the muscles gradually turned into warmth.

He got up and went to the kitchen to pour water.

Several boxes of unopened baking ingredients were piled up in the corner.

The cardboard box was printed with foreign language text.

There are also four big characters: "Headquarters Exclusive Supply".

Lin Dawei stopped.

He crouched down and tore off the tape.

It contains regular cream, frozen semi-finished products, and private-label sauces.

The box has a shipping label on the side.

The shipping location was not the headquarters in a major city, but a frozen food warehouse in the suburbs of a provincial capital.

Lin Dawei narrowed his eyes.

He tore off the shipping label, folded it, and stuffed it into his pocket.

Zhang Dahai was carrying a pot when he passed by and saw it.

"What's the use of this?"

Lin Dawei stood up. "It's no use now."

"Who knows what will happen in the future."

Zhang Dahai didn't understand and didn't ask; he was only focused on cooking.

Lin Dawei then went to the front desk.

There was also a file folder that Zhang Dahai had brought back from under the bridge.

He separated the rural commercial bank loan contract.

80,000.

interest rate.

Repayment date.

Lin Dawei pressed his fingertip against the four characters "County Rural Commercial Bank".

Zhou Man's statement, "Banks serve legitimate customers," suddenly loomed in front of me like a cold, hard pane of glass.

He folded the contract neatly and put it into the innermost layer of the document bag.

It was past 10 p.m.

The drivers had mostly left the restaurant, and the tables were mostly empty, with very little food left.

Zhang Dahai sat on a small stool by the door, drenched in sweat.

But his gaze wasn't as unfocused anymore.

He looked down at the change and the QR code record in his hand.

In one night, we sold over four hundred.

It wasn't much, but the money kept coming in, unlike the dream depicted in that rendering.

Lin Dawei sat opposite him, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"We'll continue tomorrow."

Zhang Dahai gripped his phone, "But the debt..."

"Pay it back slowly."

"she……"

Lin Dawei's eyes turned cold, and Zhang Dahai immediately shut up.

Lin Dawei flicked his cigarette ash into the broken tin can on the ground. "Fatty."

"If you lose a person or money, you can earn it back."

"As long as you still have that pot, you won't starve."

Zhang Dahai lowered his head, and after a long time, he finally hummed in agreement.

Lin Dawei stood up to leave when his phone suddenly vibrated.

He took it out.

A message from Wang Yan.

Zhao Daqiang has returned to the freight station.

The second one popped up right after.

His face was swollen like a pig's head.

Article 3.

Come here right now.