pjbooks Chapter 104 The Old-Schools' Fighting Method
Chapter 104 The Old-Schools' Fighting Method
Chapter 104 The Old-Schools' Fighting Method
but.
Although the two foreign women were looking forward to tomorrow's meal.
Wang Sheng, however, is really going to rest tomorrow.
It's reasonable to give everyone a day off as a treat for the Mid-Autumn Festival, right?
At this moment, Zhang Wei sent a private message on the forum: "Boss Wang is awesome! The mooncakes are amazing! Emily and Lily are going crazy, they keep saying 'Awesome!' They asked me what delicious food I'll be selling tomorrow? When do I open? Waiting online, it's urgent!"
Wang Sheng leaned against the cafeteria counter, rubbing his aching wrists, and typed a reply: "Please thank our international friends for their support. Tomorrow is the Mid-Autumn Festival, a public holiday, so the counter will be closed. Let them rest and recharge, and come back to fight the day after tomorrow!" He followed it with a [clasped hands] gesture.
Emoji.
The message was sent, and Zhang Wei's computer showed "typing..." before replying after a while: "Received! Understood! Boss, you've worked hard! I told them, and they were a little disappointed, but Emily said it's no problem, they can spend a week in Nanjing! The day after tomorrow! We have to be the first ones there!"
Wang Sheng smiled and put away his phone. His mother, Wang Xiulan, was counting the remaining mooncakes, her face showing satisfied exhaustion: "Finally finished. These kids, even on holiday, they still have so much energy."
"It's good stuff." Wang Sheng helped put the insulated box back in its place. "Mom, sleep in tomorrow and don't think about anything."
It's the Mid-Autumn Festival.
"Yes, you should also get some rest." Wang Xiulan nodded.
That night, Wang Sheng slept exceptionally soundly. On the morning of Mid-Autumn Festival, there was no 4 a.m. alarm clock, no sense of urgency to buy supplies, only the tranquil sunlight streaming in through the window.
He rarely slept until he woke up naturally, and when he opened his eyes, it was already bright outside the window.
I picked up my phone; the time was 8:30. The screen was piled high with unread messages and notifications.
He opened the video app, and the short video he had casually posted yesterday, which recorded the process of making mooncakes and included a clip of a foreign friend saying "Awesome," was now trending on the homepage, with "10+ views" prominently displayed next to the number of views!
The comments section was even more lively: "Front row! So this is how mooncakes are made! Boss Wang is a master craftsman!"
"Snow skin durian mooncakes! They look so delicious! I'm so sad I couldn't get any yesterday!"
"Those two foreign girls are definitely going to be meme magnets! Awesome!" That's such a heartfelt exclamation, haha!
"Who's the cafeteria owner? Wow, he's got some serious talent!"
"They've definitely capitalized on the Mid-Autumn Festival's popularity."
Wang Sheng swiped the screen, looking at the ever-increasing number of likes and comments. He was a little surprised, but more than that, he felt like he had stumbled upon a happy accident.
It seems that the festive atmosphere combined with the unexpected charm of foreign friends is indeed quite eye-catching.
"It's nice to exchange popularity points for skills and occasionally try your luck with the lottery."
He muttered to himself, realizing he hadn't touched the system's lottery interface in a long time. He got up, washed his face, and the cold water splashed on his face, making him feel much more awake.
"System, let's do a face wash lottery!" he muttered to himself.
A familiar golden turntable appeared in my mind, spinning rapidly.
Wang Sheng stared at the pointer, not particularly expecting anything, just relaxing.
The pointer swept across [Special Ingredients], [Free Attribute Points], and [One-Time Recipes]—gradually slowing down, and finally stopping on a somewhat antique icon—
A clay pot that looks weathered and has dark glaze stains on its exterior.
[Ding! Congratulations, host, you have obtained: Special Clue - Gourmet Casserole!]
[Clue Description: In the old town of Chengnan, the "Old Ma's Braised Pork" restaurant is about to close and relocate to the United States. The owner, Master Ma, cherishes a purple clay pot given to him by his wife. Used for many years, it has developed a unique flavor profile, making it especially suitable for slow-cooking braised pork. This pot will soon be disposed of as discarded furniture. How to obtain: Go to the old town and find Master Ma.]
Wang Sheng was stunned.
Instead of giving out props directly, they're giving out clues? This lottery is interesting.
A detailed address and a blurry photo of the shop then pop up. Zooming in on the image reveals a layer of glossy black sediment on the inner wall of the casserole—the marks left by the broth over time, commonly known as "patina," a treasure in the eyes of an experienced chef.
"Old Ma's Braised Pork —"
Wang Sheng searched his memory. He had a vague recollection of a small restaurant tucked away in an old alley, specializing in affordable home-style dishes. He'd never been there when he was in school because it was too far, but he'd heard that the braised pork was truly authentic.
I didn't expect it to close down.
"Since we're free today, shall we go take a look?"
Once the thought arose, he couldn't suppress it. He had always been interested in kitchenware, let alone old objects with stories behind them. The system specifically noted that it was "especially suitable for slow-cooking braised meats."
Although the braised pork at his window number 05 was well-received, who wouldn't want to do it even better?
He greeted his mother. Wang Xiulan was eager for him to relax: "Go! Have a good look around, don't worry about the cafeteria stuff!"
The old town is a distance from the university town. Buses swayed and rattled through the festive streets, small lanterns hung at the entrances of alleys, and the air was filled with the aroma of stewed meat from every household.
It's Mid-Autumn Festival, and every household is busy preparing for their reunion dinner.
Following the address entered and Baidu Maps, I turned into an old alley.
The alley was narrow, lined with old-fashioned residential buildings with mottled walls. At the end, the sign for "Old Ma's Braised Pork" was half-leaning, the roller shutter door was pulled down halfway, and there were packed cardboard boxes and old tables and chairs piled up at the entrance. It was a scene of deserted place.
A thin old man sat on a small stool by the door, slowly sipping tea from an enamel cup.
His hair was gray, he wore a faded old T-shirt, and his back was slightly hunched. His gaze fell on the pedestrians passing by in the alley, with a hint of loneliness, as if he were saying goodbye.
Wang Sheng took a deep breath, adjusted his expression, and walked over with a slightly shy smile typical of a junior.
He immediately adopted an old-fashioned approach: "Master Ma? How are you doing? Do you still remember me?"
Old Ma looked up at the sound and squinted at the young man. He was tall and big, but his face was unfamiliar.
But the older generation values etiquette; if someone greets you with a smile, you can't be cold.
Since we don't know each other.
Let's try to get information out of them!
Follow the rules set by the older generation!
He immediately put on a friendly smile, put down his teacup, and warmly greeted, "Oh, it's been so long! You've grown so tall and handsome! Please, have a seat!"
He casually pulled over a small stool from the side.
Wang Sheng breathed a sigh of relief.
This "old-fashioned approach" is indeed universally applicable.
He sat down and continued the conversation, "Yes, time flies. When my uncle used to bring me here, I loved your braised pork, especially the one served steaming hot in a clay pot—it smelled so good I couldn't resist!"
This was half true and half false. The uncle was fictional, but the description of "the casserole steaming hot" accurately struck a chord with the old man.
Old Ma's eyes lit up, and he slapped his thigh: "Yes, yes, yes! It's that clay pot! Simmering over low heat, the meat melts in the pot, and the oil sizzles and shines! Back then, lots of little kids your age loved to squat outside my shop smelling that aroma! One bowl of meat could make you eat three bowls of rice!"
The old man was lost in his memories, and his wrinkles smoothed out.
The two started chatting.