Don't underestimate the poor and elderly; I was thrilled to refuse the class beauty's adva

After finishing the math exam in the afternoon, Zhang Yifan came out of the exam room.

Zongwen followed behind him, still muttering to himself whether the auxiliary lines of that solid geometry problem had been drawn correctly.

Zhang Yifan said the drawing was correct.

Zongwen asked, "How did you know which line I drew?" Zhang Yifan replied, "You kept muttering to yourself the whole way. I could even tell which point the coordinate system was set up on, not just the auxiliary lines."

"That's just nervousness."

Zongwen swung the pencil case in his hand back and forth.

"My hands were shaking when I got to the last big problem. I calculated the second part of that derivative problem three times, and the answer was different each time."

The first time it's -1, the second time it's one-half, the third time it's the square root of three...

Do you think this is reasonable?

"So which one did you write last?"

"I wrote the square root of three because the square root looks more sophisticated."

"Then your score will be very high."

Zong Wen was stunned for a moment before he realized what was happening. He chased after Zhang Yifan to hit him, but Zhang Yifan had already walked far away.

After turning two streets, you can see the Ronggui Snacks sign in the distance.

There was a queue outside the store.

The queue stretched from the store entrance all the way to the sidewalk, and even after turning a corner, the end of the queue was still nowhere to be seen.

He walked closer and glanced inside. The restaurant was packed, with every table full of people.

Some students in school uniforms were engrossed in eating, while some parents accompanying their children were exchanging information about the exam location with others while eating. Several others were taking pictures of the restaurant with their phones, saying, "This is the place, this is the place."

Several pre-packaged takeout bags were piled up on the cashier counter, forming a dilapidated paper wall.

Liu Guilan shuttled back and forth between the cashier and the kitchen, carrying two plates of food in her hands at the same time. She could also push open the kitchen door with her elbow and call out, "The twice-cooked pork for table number three is ready, and the hot and sour soup for table number five will be here shortly."

Zhang Rongshan was tossing the wok in the kitchen, the sound of the spatula flying could be heard through half a wall. Occasionally, he would say, "We're out of vinegar, pass me some." Liu Guilan would shout without turning her head, "Take it yourself, my hands are full of plates."

Zhang Yifan had just pushed open the door and hadn't even had a chance to speak when Liu Guilan spotted him with her sharp eyes.

She placed the two dishes on the table next to her and took a thermal lunchbox from under the cashier's counter, stuffing it into his hand.

The lunchbox is a three-layered stainless steel box, which feels heavy in your hand, and you can feel the heat of the food inside even through the outer shell.

"Go home and eat. Don't take up a table here. Your dad and I will go back as soon as we're done. Don't wait for us."

After she finished speaking, she turned around to greet the newly arrived guests, arranging seats, pouring tea, and handing out menus, her movements smooth and seamless.

After taking a couple of steps, he turned back and added, "Be careful on the road."

I didn't ask him how he did on his math test.

It's not that I don't care, it's that I'm afraid of putting pressure on him.

Zhang Yifan, carrying his lunchbox, stood at the door watching his mother move between several tables and his father sweating profusely in the kitchen. After standing there for a moment, he turned and walked towards home.

When he got home, he put the lunchbox on the coffee table and opened the lid.

Braised pork ribs, scrambled eggs with tomatoes, cucumber salad, and a bowl of rice topped with a soft-boiled poached egg.

He picked up his chopsticks, and just as he put a piece of pork rib into his mouth, his phone rang.

He picked it up, glanced at it, and a smile crept onto his lips.

He himself didn't even realize it.

Shen Zhiyi's WeChat message contained only four words: "Have you eaten?"

He finished chewing the ribs and swallowed them, straightened the lunchbox, took a picture, and sent it over.

Shen Zhiyi immediately replied with a drooling kitten emoji, followed by another message: "So delicious, looks so appetizing."

Zhang Yifan leaned back on the sofa, typed a few words and then deleted them, then typed a few more and deleted them again.

He wanted to say, "My dad's cooking is really good," but felt that would be too self-praise; he wanted to say, "If you want to eat it, I'll bring you some tomorrow," but felt that would be too deliberate.

The last thing I sent out was: "My dad made this. I'll take you to try his cooking sometime."

After sending the message, he placed his phone face down on the table, glanced at it again a few seconds later, but did not reply.

He put down his phone with some disappointment, picked up his chopsticks, and continued eating.

About ten seconds later, he flipped his phone over to look at it again, but still didn't reply.

He put down his chopsticks, stared at the screen, and wondered if he had said something abrupt.

Shen Zhiyi was sitting at her family's dining table when she received the message, with a bowl of white fungus soup cooked by her mother in front of her.

She stared at the words on the screen, the spoon in her hand hovering in mid-air.

What does "Let me take you to try his dad's cooking" mean?

Her mind raced.

Go to his house? Meet his parents? Is this an implication? Or just a casual remark?

Her face flushed slightly. She put the spoon back in the bowl, picked up her phone, typed a few words, deleted them, typed a few more, and was about to send them when her phone vibrated again.

Zhang Yifan sent a photo of the entrance to Ronggui Snack Shop, with a red signboard and white lettering, and colorful opening flags next to it.

The message below read: "My parents run a small restaurant near No. 1 Middle School called Ronggui Snacks. You can try it sometime when you have time. Just mention my name and you won't have to wait in line."

Shen Zhiyi deleted the line she had just typed, word by word.

She stared blankly at the screen, her lips pressed into a thin line, thinking to herself, "I really shouldn't have overestimated this idiot."

But as she looked at the photo in front of the shop, it suddenly seemed familiar.

Ronggui Snacks.

This name seems familiar.

She switched to browsing local news, and after scrolling for a while, she finally found a report that had just been published that afternoon, which had already been shared several thousand times.

She sent the link to Zhang Yifan.

Zhang Yifan clicked on the link.

The news headline read, "A heartwarming scene on the first day of the college entrance examination: This store provides free breakfast and rest area for examinees."

The article details how Ronggui Snacks provided fresh steamed buns and a resting place for examinees free of charge on the day of the college entrance examination, and includes several photos.

Each photo was accompanied by a detailed caption, and the reporter's writing conveyed an irrepressible sense of fondness.

Then, changing the subject abruptly, he wrote:

"Although both shops offer free breakfast, Wu Lao Er's steamed bun shop has a heartless habit of providing spoiled steamed buns to college entrance exam takers, causing one student to suffer food poisoning and miss the exam."

The store is currently under investigation by relevant authorities and is closed for rectification.

The shop owner has been sued by the parents of the victimized students and will face huge compensation claims.

Below the news article is an interview video.

Zhang Yifan clicked play, and the man who had come to the store at noon that day appeared on the screen.

He stood at the hospital entrance, his eyes still red, but his voice was strong.

He said that Wu Lao Er's steamed bun shop, such an unscrupulous business, must be punished, and that his son's hard work over the years had been ruined.

His voice began to tremble as he spoke, but he took a deep breath to steady himself and then bowed deeply to the camera.

He said he wanted to apologize to the owner of Ronggui Snack Shop, but he was too impulsive and wronged the good person who was actually doing a good deed.

The scene then shifts to interviewing several more students and their parents. One parent said, "More people should know about this kind of conscientious shop."

One test taker said, "The steamed buns are especially delicious. I'll come back for more tomorrow."

An old man stood at the shop entrance, giving a thumbs-up, and said in his dialect, "This boss is an honest man; no wonder his business is so good."

Zhang Yifan scrolled to the bottom of the news page, where the comments section was full of praise for Ronggui snacks.

The most liked comments were: "Added to my must-eat list after the college entrance exam", "May the boss be a good person and live a long and peaceful life", "I'll go queue up tomorrow", and "I strongly suggest opening a chain throughout the city".

He put down his phone, leaned back on the sofa, stared at the ceiling, and suddenly felt something was wrong.

His original intention was to let his parents open this small restaurant so they wouldn't have to get up early and work late to sort vegetables at the market or carry bricks at construction sites like before. After all, the money in his account was enough for his family to squander for several lifetimes.

Now that I've opened my own shop, without a boss to keep an eye on things, I'm busier than when I was working for someone else.

He picked up his chopsticks, took a piece of braised pork rib, stuffed it into his mouth, chewed it a couple of times, and muttered to himself, "Never mind, at least they're happy."