Poor rich beat the world with system

Over the next two days, the delivery guys seemed to have caught some kind of virus, bringing people in increasing numbers, from three to five, and then from five to eight, as if they were meeting some KPI targets.

Every day, the shop was taken over by various delivery uniforms in red, yellow, and blue, making it look more lively than a fashion show.

With the "crazy endorsements" from the delivery guys, strange rumors began to circulate on this old street.

"Has Wei Xiang Ju hired a new chef?" An aunt in a red dress, with her hands on her hips, discussed heatedly with Old Zhang, the vegetable seller next door.

"No way, it's still that guy," Old Zhang shook his head, as if watching some miracle of the world, "He just suddenly got enlightened and started catering to those riders."

"Enlightened?" The aunt raised her eyebrows, her expression as if she had heard that the neighbor's naughty child had ranked first in the grade, "His cooking skills? I remember the twice-cooked pork he made last month, the taste was so bad it could make an archaeologist cry."

In the corner barbershop, the sound of gossip was louder than the buzzing of the electric clippers.

"Have you noticed, that shop is now full of delivery guys, like a riders' association meeting."

"That's true, I passed by yesterday, and the scene was like a market."

"I think," Teacher Tony said mysteriously while giving a guest a foil perm, "It must have been spotted by some big boss who plans to acquire and renovate it. Look at how clean the shopfront is, even the spiders have moved out."

"I don't think so," an old customer lying in the chair suddenly interjected,

"It must be that the guy can't hold on anymore and changed to a delivery meal point. Running a restaurant these days is not easy, look at the 'Fu Man Lou' across the street, it's decorated like a palace..."

The discussions in the teahouse were even more incessant, lively enough to script a prime-time soap opera for this small shop.

"That shop, I bought buns there last week, and the boss couldn't even hold a soy sauce bottle steady, his hands were shaking like a sieve."

"Now it's good, he's specialized in takeout business, which is also a way out."

"I think it's doubtful, it's not certain how long that shop can last. Nowadays, young people just don't know how to do business..."

The neighbors chattered over tea and dinner, seemingly more eager to study this small shop than their children's report cards.

What they didn't know was that since the day Liu Yang got the system, he had been thinking about improving all those "dark dishes" from before.

Every day after closing, he would start his "late-night canteen" mode.

On the first night, he started with twice-cooked pork.

The twice-cooked pork he used to make was simply dreadful, either chewy like rubber or black like charcoal.

Now, with the system's help, he began his "crazy experiment" in the empty shop.

"The meat slices should be this thickness..." he muttered to himself, his knife skills not yet sharp enough, but much better than the "thousand-layer cake" he used to cut.

Marinating, stir-frying, seasoning, he followed the system's methods for each step.

It felt like playing a game and following a strategy guide, just seeing if he could execute it perfectly.

On the second night, he challenged shredded pork with green peppers.

This dish used to be a disaster in his hands, with green peppers either raw and crunchy or burnt and black, with no in-between state.

Now, the control of heat and the ratio of seasonings were clearly arranged by the system.

By the third night, he was even more ambitious, directly challenging boiled fish.

This was the dish he used to fear the most, as the soup he made was either as turbid as a sewer or as spicy as eating explosives.

But this time, he mastered every detail: the thickness of the fish slices, the ratio of ingredients, the control of heat...

Every step was strictly according to the system's instructions.

After three days, his menu finally had real content, no longer just supported by a bowl of noodles.

Every late night, he tinkered in the kitchen, like a martial arts master practicing stealthily in the middle of the night.

At the same time, Li Sheng, who lived in the building across, was still坚持ing his unchanging habit for twenty years - taking a walk on the balcony every evening.

However, recently, this habit led him to discover something strange.

The young boss who hadn't been able to hold a spatula steadily for half a year had been tinkering in the shop until late at night.

From his second-floor position, he could see the kitchen of the small shop occasionally emitting steam, with fragrances wafting up one after another, tempting him, a resident who had already had dinner, to swallow his saliva.

"Has this guy suddenly become enlightened or possessed?" Li Sheng stroked his chin, puzzled.

He had seen how this shop had been for the past six months - from a "dig site" that even rats would disdain at the beginning, to a brand new small shop now.

What puzzled him the most were those fragrances. He could understand the noodle fragrance that wafted out during the day.

But what about the fragrances at night? The aroma of twice-cooked pork, the taste of shredded pork with green peppers, smelled as if they came from a completely different shop.

"Has this young boss secretly hired a chef to practice at night?" Li Sheng pondered, "But I haven't seen any strangers go in..."

That night, he smelled another enticing fragrance wafting up, even more fragrant than that from the most expensive restaurant on the corner.

"Interesting," he looked at the lit shop downstairs.

In the past few days, more and more passers-by, but their eyes on the menu were like looking at the weather forecast - only aiming at the word "noodles".

Other dishes?

Those names that had been lying on the menu for half a year were now like discounted goods in the mall, only receiving customers' polite and perfunctory "ah, this one..." before quickly turning to the next page.

"Boss, a bowl of signature noodles, please!"

"Me too!"

Liu Yang was used to this scene, as if a talented musician became famous just for playing "Für Elise". Every day, looking at those neglected dish names, he felt they were throwing resentful glances at him.

"Uh, boss," a college student with glasses pushed his frames, his eyes wandering on the menu, "Besides noodles, is there anything..." he paused, as if considering his words, "that you're particularly good at?" 

Liu Yang's mouth curled up slightly.