pjbooks Chapter 33: [Why does this young man talk with such a sophisticated air?]
Chapter 33: [Why does this young man talk with such a sophisticated air?]
After closing their breakfast stall and catching up on a nap at the wholesale market, the two hurriedly got up again and drove to the market to buy more goods.
"Boss, do you think our night market will be like this breakfast stall in the future, full of regular customers?" Huang Weixiong asked while packing the food, recalling the endless stream of regular customers in the morning. "If that's the case, opening the door every day will feel like seeing old friends. How reassuring that would be."
Previously, during the interview, he had seen what a breakfast stall looked like, but at the time he was more focused on the interview itself, thinking about how to satisfy the interviewer.
This time, Huang Weixiong appeared as his own employee, seemingly sensing the cohesion of his stall.
"There are pros and cons, I guess." Liu Zhuohao smiled, his hands still busy. "Once you're familiar enough to buy on credit, the thing you'll be worried about is how to ask for the money back!"
Huang Weixiong raised his voice slightly:
"I hadn't even noticed before; it only came to my senses this morning. It's been such a long holiday already!"
He recalled the deserted bookstore and the empty shops next to it: "The food street outside my old school was always deserted during holidays, but the breakfast stalls here... seem to always have people around?"
Liu Zhuohao didn't answer directly, but instead asked, "Then think about it, what kind of people are buying pancakes now?"
If you're going to teach, you must give people the opportunity to learn.
Huang Weixiong was taken aback, recalling: "It seems... most of them are still students, but not all of them are students anymore. Some are coming back from morning exercise, some are buying groceries, and some are familiar office workers."
"Yes." Liu Zhuohao wiped his sweat and deftly helped several delivery workers load the goods onto the food cart. "Students may be on holiday, but life doesn't have holidays. People always need to eat."
"If the taste is consistent, the staff is clean, and the timing is punctual, customers will remember it. They know that no matter if it's windy or rainy, or if it's a holiday or school day, I'm here at 6:30 in the morning, and the pancakes taste the same. If they want some, they'll come over."
Even before the holiday, his stall was almost entirely filled with students.
Neighbors and office workers alike couldn't squeeze in to buy anything.
Now that they're on holiday, they're squeezing in to buy one, and there are more older customers.
These words sounded quite mature, and the man carrying goods next to him chuckled: "Hey, this young boss is interesting, he speaks with such confidence. Life is so much better now. When we were young, we wouldn't have dared to say such boastful things."
Another person chimed in, equally amused: "That makes sense, everyone knows that, but putting it into practice is not so simple."
"Yeah, who doesn't understand the logic?" A man with calloused hands put down a cardboard box, scoffed, "Back in the 90s, I also had a stall selling clothes. What happened in the end? A whole warehouse of goods stuck with me! Young man, listen to me, business isn't about talking."
Several movers in their thirties and forties joked around with each other.
Liu Zhuohao just smiled and didn't reply.
In their eyes, he was just a young man with no experience.
"What's so funny!"
The cold chain store owner walked out, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his voice hoarse and strained: "He's way more successful than any of you! Do you really think this little boss has never run a business before?"
"Old Ma, you only lost money once back then, is it really worth harping on about it for twenty years? It's like you've wasted twenty years of your life, not only losing your spirit but also your judgment."
"Do you know how many items my breakfast stall owner, Mr. Liu, sells in a month? And—"
He flicked off his cigarette ash and pointed to the goods being loaded onto the truck:
"See that? This is their second stall! They've already established a solid breakfast business, now they set up a breakfast stall during the day and a night market at night. What you're moving is their new venture!"
He listened from the side, and these people were really like clowns—just showing off their skills in front of Guan Yu!
"Set up, set up two stalls?"
The first person to speak was stunned. "No, that won't do. It's definitely to lend a hand to the family."
He didn't believe it.
Huang Weixiong's face flushed red, and he stepped forward, his neck stiff: "What do you mean 'no'! We set up this stall ourselves! We're at the east end of the West Lake Night Market, selling street-side steaks for thirty-five yuan a serving, clean and delicious! You...you can come and see for yourselves tonight!"
His voice was hoarse from shouting.
He was already angry from being teased by these people.
On what grounds?
Just because they've had a decade or so more of breathing space, does that give them the right to point fingers and make decisions?
They've never even seen it, yet they're lecturing without any evidence.
What exactly are they relying on?
These words were like a slap in the face, silencing the crowd and freezing the smiles on the faces of the porters.
In particular, a man whom the cold chain boss called "Old Ma" opened his mouth, but in the end, he couldn't say anything, and his face turned red and white in turns.
"Alright, alright, hurry up!" The cold chain store owner waved his hand, "Don't delay their business."
"Alright, I'm off, boss."
Liu Zhuohao didn't say a word to argue with the porters from beginning to end. He raised his hand, smiled, got on the motorcycle welded in front of the food cart, and told Huang Weixiong to hurry up and follow.
"Rat-a-tat-tat—"
The car sputtered out of the market, puffing out smoke from its rear.
Once the sound had completely disappeared, Old Ma finally uttered a muffled sentence:
"He...he really manages to run two businesses?"
The cold chain store owner took a drag of his cigarette: "Ah, I just lit it last night."
He squinted at the empty doorway and added:
"I just don't know... if I can handle it."
That's a vague statement. Is it whether the business can handle it? Or whether his body can handle it? It's hard to say.
Old Ma fell silent, staring at the doorway for a long time before suddenly sighing:
"If he really holds on... this kid is something else."
He's a real businessman. Running two events a day sounds easy, but it's like risking your life. Anyone who can survive that hardship has bones of iron.
"How did you raise him at home? This is..."
He shook his head, his voice trailing off, "My little rascal, sigh!"
Those who can truly stand firm will definitely have a bright future.
The men all lit up their cigarettes, and no one spoke.
Some roads, some people dare to venture.
Some people can only squat by the roadside and look, then click their tongues, sigh, and say they missed out.
……
……
"Those people just like to act like they're old and superior!"
Even after setting up his stall at the night market, Huang Weixiong was still grumbling angrily.
"Just like my parents—" He slammed a rag onto the table and scrubbed it vigorously, "They're always saying things like 'You're too young,' 'What do you know,' 'We've eaten more salt than you've eaten rice'..."
He looked up. "But what about them? Their lives are pretty much the same!"
"My dad was bossed around in the factory for half his life, and he never even became a team leader."
"My mom keeps complaining about who ripped her off by two yuan at the market... They don't even know how to live their own lives, so why do they think I'm doomed?"
He became more and more excited as he spoke, his voice sounding somewhat abrupt amidst the noise of preparing to open the stall:
"It's as if getting old automatically gilds the words you speak, making them seem so right and reasonable. Reasonable my foot!"
He practically forced out the last word through gritted teeth.
Liu Zhuohao was lighting the stove with his head down when a blue flame suddenly shot up, illuminating his calm profile.
He didn't say anything.
Even so, he had experienced the same thing.
After Huang Weixiong's anger subsided slightly, Liu Zhuohao spoke, his voice not loud, but steadily drowning out the surrounding noise:
"Wei, it's time to open the stall."