After the divorce, he took care of his child and sold fried rice; his ex-wife was filled with regret

at the same time.

Zhang Dawei, who had been taken into the law enforcement vehicle, was slumped in the back seat, sweating profusely as he made a phone call to his lawyer.

"Feed? Old Chen! Come quick, bail me out! I've been taken away by the Food and Drug Administration! It's nothing, it's just a malicious report, a small fine..."

He hadn't finished speaking.

"Bang!"

The car suddenly braked hard.

Zhang Dawei wasn't wearing a seatbelt, and he rolled out like a ball, his forehead slamming hard against the metal railing of the front seat.

"Holy crap! How do you drive like that?!"

Zhang Dawei clutched the large, instantly swollen lump, tears streaming down his face from the pain.

The driver in front looked completely innocent: "It wasn't that I wanted to brake, it's just that... the road ahead collapsed!"

"What?!"

Zhang Dawei peeked out and saw that a large pothole had suddenly appeared on the road ahead. If he had braked a second later, the whole car would have plunged into it.

"This is...this is really bad luck!" Zhang Dawei cursed.

……

Inside the Lin family shop.

After seeing off the last group of guests, it was already 11 p.m.

Despite the setbacks, today's sales were not only unaffected, but also broke new records thanks to this "officially certified" live stream.

Qin Lang was so tired that he slumped in his chair, holding a calculator in his hand, pressing the keys rapidly.

"Brother Lin! Guess how much we sold today?" Qin Lang looked up excitedly.

"How much?" Lin Fan asked casually as he wiped the stove.

"180,000! A full 180,000!"

Qin Lang shoved the calculator in front of Lin Fan, exclaiming, "This is more than my old bar's revenue at its peak!"

180,000.

This is a terrifying number.

This means that he earned back more than half a year's rent for the store in just one day.

Shen Man rubbed her aching ankle, tired but her eyes were full of light:

"Lin Fan, at this rate, you'll be able to buy this entire street in less than a month, right?"

Lin Fan smiled and took off his apron.

"Buying a street isn't in a rush."

He walked to the door, pushed open the glass door, and stood on the steps.

My gaze fell on the three-story building next door that still had the "Dawei Hot Pot" sign hanging on it, but was now completely dark.

That building is three times the size of this one, and in a better location—a true prime corner.

If we can acquire it and integrate the two stores, that will be the prototype of a true food empire.

However, Lin Fan looked at the building and slowly shook his head.

Because he knew better than anyone else that the current booming business was based on the system's "grand opening promotion" with an unlimited supply of ingredients.

But after midnight tonight, everything will be back to normal.

That rigid system had long ago etched the rules into his mind—the daily food quota was fixed, tightly gripping his neck.

Even more deadly is that "core ironclad rule": all ingredients provided by the system must be cooked by Lin Fan himself.

What does this mean?

This means he cannot hire a chef or take on apprentices.

Once the process is outsourced, those top-quality ingredients instantly lose their magic and become ordinary mortals, with their flavor greatly diminished.

One person, one pair of hands.

Even if his body has been enhanced and his hand speed is astonishing, a person's energy is ultimately made of flesh and blood, not a machine.

If he really takes over that big restaurant next door, which is several hundred square meters in size, and hundreds of people sit inside, but he can't cook anything even if he works his butt off in the kitchen, leaving customers sitting outside waiting for two hours?

That's not doing business, that's ruining your reputation.

Since we can't have "large quantities to satisfy our hunger," we have to take another approach.

Lin Fan withdrew his gaze, his eyes hardening.

Since we can't do it all, let's take the principle of "scarcity makes things valuable" to the extreme.

He turned around and went back into the store. Looking at Qin Lang and Shen Man, who were still excitedly planning for the future, he took out the small blackboard, picked up the chalk, and wrote a few lines.

"Everyone! Starting tomorrow, we will be implementing limited quantities."

Qin Lang and Shen Man went over to take a look and their eyes widened in surprise.

[Important Notice]

[Limited supply resumes starting today!]

[Supreme Beef Brisket Noodles: Limited to 200 bowls per day]

[Golden Crab Roe Soup Dumplings: Limited to 100 baskets per day]

[Heartbreakingly Delicious Fried Rice: Limited to 100 servings per day]

[Qiankun Tea Eggs: Limited to 100 per day]

While supplies last, no additional orders will be placed! One item per person!

"Holy crap?!"

Qin Lang pointed at the blackboard, his voice cracking, "No way, are you crazy? At this rate today, if we sold everything tomorrow, we could easily sell a thousand or eight hundred bowls, right??"

"That's right!" Shen Man exclaimed anxiously, ignoring the pain in her feet as she stood up.

"Isn't this just letting money slip by? Are you stupid? Right now is the peak of the hype, Zhang Dawei just went to jail, you can take advantage of the situation and rake in the profits!"

Lin Fan hung the blackboard in a conspicuous spot by the door, patted the chalk dust off his hands, and smiled helplessly:

"The main problem is that I can't handle it all by myself. As you can see, I almost broke my arm trying to make these hundreds of bowls of noodles today."

"If I bring in another thousand bowls tomorrow, you might see me in the hospital next time."

Upon hearing this, Qin Lang waved his hand and said with great pride:

"Hey! It's no big deal! You should have said you needed more people earlier!"

He pulled out his phone and pointed at the screen: "The bar I own, and the restaurant group my father runs, their kitchens are full of master chefs who've been working for over ten or twenty years! Chopping, ramen making, cooking—you name it, I have it!"

"If you agree, I'll bring a whole platoon of cooks over for you tomorrow morning at six! I'll pay their wages!"

"You just need to direct from the sidelines, or give them the recipe... If you don't trust the recipe, you can be in charge of the seasonings and let them do the hard work! Isn't that enough?"

Shen Man chimed in, "That's right, Lin Fan. Who does business by doing everything themselves and exhausting themselves? Learning how to utilize talent is what a boss should do."

"My family also has several excellent Western chefs. Although they're not your specialties, their knife skills are definitely top-notch. Could you borrow them for a few days as a temporary solution?"

Lin Fan was somewhat moved by their kindness.

Although these two seem unreliable most of the time, they truly consider him a friend when it matters.

But Lin Fan shook his head, poured two glasses of warm water for the two of them, and explained earnestly:

"Young Master Qin, Shen Man, I appreciate your kindness."

"It's not that I don't trust you people, but that I have my own rules."

Lin Fan pointed to the braising pot in the kitchen, "The heat control, the feel of the touch—even the slightest difference makes a world of difference in taste."

"What I, Lin Fan, sell is either the best, or I don't sell it at all."

"What comes out of the assembly line is animal feed, not gourmet food."

"I can't ruin my reputation just to make money."