"What a wholesome young man."
Watching the two figures walking away, Liu Chuanfeng couldn't help but sigh with emotion. Young, a veteran, physically fit, and motivated—this was the absolute top tier for a worker, and a boss's ultimate dream.
"If I ever open a shop, I'm definitely hiring guys like them."
Wang Yaofa stroked his chin, looking as though he were calculating something.
"What?"
"Have you already figured out your next startup plan?"
Liu Chuanfeng glanced at him, somewhat surprised. In his past life, Wang Yaofa hadn't started a business; he had simply taken over his family's driving school and run it by the book, though he did double its scale, which proved he had some genuine capability.
"Not yet. I'll see how much capital I have when the time comes. If I do anything, I'll have to go to Modu first."
Liu Chuanfeng nodded. That meant Wang Yaofa had some ideas in mind but nothing concrete yet. He turned his head and saw Zhang Jingyi quietly helping them pack up the tricycle all by herself. While they had been chatting, she had already neatly folded and sorted all the cash, gathering all the trash from the tricycle into a plastic bag.
Standing there under the scorching sun, a faint flush spread across her cheeks. Unlike her usual gentle demeanor, she possessed a different kind of captivating charm at that moment. Zhang Jingyi bit her lip as she earnestly lowered her head to count the coins in her hands.
"Brother Feng, I've counted them for you: three one-hundreds, eight fifties, twenty-six twenties, two hundred and twenty-two tens, sixty fives. Over here, there are also a hundred ones and twenty more ones."
"That comes to a total of three thousand eight hundred and forty-one."
She always spoke in a soft, gentle voice, a faint smile lingering at the corners of her lips as she gave her report. Like a freshly sprouted spring bud, she possessed a special magic that could instantly put anyone in a good mood.
Yet this only made Liu Chuanfeng feel somewhat restless:
Why does she have to be so virtuous?
Does it give extra points for the college entrance exam?
This was getting tricky. A man could hurl harsh words at a bad girl, but in front of a girl who was gentle, considerate, and virtuous toward him, some things were truly impossible to say out there.
"I am a man whose ambition is to become the Pirate King; my resolve cannot be broken by a woman."
"I can't be like other time-travelers—being a scumbag is one thing, but preying only on good girls? My conscience would hurt."
Liu Chuanfeng chanted this to himself countless times, constantly steeling his "resolve." With a flat "Mm," he took the money from her hands, rolled it up casually, and stuffed it into Wang Yaofa's small crossbody bag. After zipping it shut, he patted the bag twice. "There's still three hundred and twenty on Alipay; we made a pretty good haul this noon."
"Let's go back and get some sleep, then prepare tonight's food."
"Are you going home?"
"Are you going to your house?"
Zhang Jingyi put her hands behind her back, stood on her tiptoes, and asked in a low voice.
"Huh?"
Liu Chuanfeng froze for a second. When he said everyone should go back to their respective homes, he hadn't meant that everyone was going to *his* house.
None of their Chinese language skills were that bad; they were all people who could score above ten points out of fifteen on reading comprehension. How could such a plain and straightforward sentence be misunderstood?
Especially since you were the Chinese class representative.
Especially since you've been praised for being clever and emotionally intelligent since you were a child.
So there was only one truth: you were playing dumb with me!
For someone playing dumb, the only solution was to wake them up simply and crudely.
Yet looking at her pretty appearance, with a hint of entreaty in her lovely peach-blossom eyes—so pitiful it broke your heart—which man could bear to do it?
"We're all guys over there, and the place is a mess."
"I can help clean up."
"We still need to take a nap later, and there aren't extra beds at home."
"It's fine, I don't need a nap. I woke up late this morning."
"I..."
Liu Chuanfeng suddenly felt a sense of helplessness, as if he had been utterly defeated by her. Could this be the legendary "sincerity is the ultimate killer move"?
"Get on the cart."
Having obtained permission, Zhang Jingyi instantly beamed with joy, taking quick, dainty steps as she ran toward the cart—until a sudden rumble broke the quiet among the three of them.
The sound came out of nowhere, loud enough for everyone to hear. Liu Chuanfeng raised an eyebrow. "You haven't eaten?"
"No."
Zhang Jingyi lowered her head and clutched her stomach, looking a bit embarrassed. She didn't have many friends, and she had only found out after asking around for a long time that they were in this area. After searching for quite a while herself, she naturally hadn't found time to eat lunch.
"Well... Feng, why don't you keep her company and get some lunch?"
"I'll head back first to tidy up and organize things, and by the way, I'll go to the wholesale market to pick up some more takeout boxes."
Wang Yaofa had great situational awareness. In a situation like this, he naturally had to clear the field and give his bro some alone time with her. Today had proven once again that Zhang Jingyi was nothing like those flashy, flirtatious women; this was the ideal wife material in the eyes of traditional folks. Someone like Sun Qianyao was only fit to be kept on the side and played with.
"Wait, no, what's wrong with me?"
"Just a few days ago, I was advising him to be faithful and devoted, so why am I suddenly harboring the feudal bad habit of helping my brother keep a mistress?"
Wang Yaofa pedaled the tricycle while shaking his head. "I'm tainted, I'm tainted. I need to hurry and find a bathhouse for a scrub, and then go find Number 6 to cleanse my soul."
"There's a noodle shop right next door. Want me to get you a bowl of noodles?"
Liu Chuanfeng sighed as he watched the fat guy vanish into the distance—what a great brother. He put his hands on his hips and glanced sideways at Zhang Jingyi, who was standing nearby with her eyebrows slightly furrowed. Her hands were crossed over her lower belly, and she kept her head lowered, looking exceptionally well-behaved. "Whatever's fine."
"Hoo~"
Liu Chuanfeng blew twice on the noodles. This place made good noodles, but a small bowl cost eight yuan—almost as much as his own boxed meals. The catering industry truly was a business of exorbitant profits; no wonder so many people were getting into pre-made meals and "tech and additives."
They managed to push costs down to rock bottom while never lowering their selling prices.
The pickled mustard tuber and pork belly takeout he used to order cost thirty yuan a portion. He had always assumed it was freshly made by the vendor, only to discover later that they used pre-made meal packs costing a mere six or seven yuan, netting a bloody profit of over twenty. And that was considering the vendor had a conscience; if someone bought cheap, unbranded, three-no products, consumers would probably cry their eyes out in the restroom.
Current food was still better. Even if it wasn't entirely clean, it was at least pure natural additives, without too much high-tech gimmickry.
Besides, these noodles were hand-pulled the traditional way, unlike some shops in his past life that claimed to sell hand-pulled noodles while actually serving machine-pressed ones at the exact same price.
Liu Chuanfeng had originally thought about this as a potential business model for a startup, but the moment he thought about scamming people, his conscience pricked him. He always felt that making money like that would surely bring retribution.
Between eating and thinking, the bowl of noodles was soon scraped clean.
"Youth is great—you get hungry as soon as you finish eating, and once you're hungry, you can eat all over again."
Liu Chuanfeng patted his stomach. Even though he had eaten two meals within two hours, his stomach didn't feel particularly heavy, and his four subtle abs were still right there. It was just a pity that when faced with four houses versus four abs, most women wouldn't choose the abs.
After all, their preferences were remarkably consistent: they liked young and wealthy men, as well as old and wealthy men.
They also liked talking about money with poor men, and talking about romance with rich men.
"Sigh, I still need to work hard. After all, right now I don't seem to have a single penny in my pocket."
Across the table, Zhang Jingyi was eating her noodles in a leisurely, dainty manner, bite by small bite.
She had quite a unique way of eating noodles—a bite of noodles followed by a sip of broth. Could this be considered another form of "dry-wet separation"?
"Did you bring any money with you?"
"I did."
Unsure of what he was planning, Zhang Jingyi still nodded. She laid her chopsticks flat across the noodle bowl, set her spoon down, lowered her head, and pulled a small leather card holder from her pocket. There were only two cards inside—an ID card and a bank card—along with five Mao Zedongs.
"I've got five hundred in cash."
"If you need more, I'll have to go to the bank to withdraw it."
"There are still eight thousand inside."
"Is that enough?"
"Enough, enough."
"I was just going to pay for the noodles."
Liu Chuanfeng let out an awkward dry laugh. A good girl would reach in and hand you her very heart; he plucked a hundred-yuan bill from the case and pushed the rest back. "Don't flash your wealth. When you're out and about, keep your money hidden properly."
"Mm."
"I know."
"I just wanted to tell you how much money I have on me, so if you ever come up short, you can just ask me for it directly."
"Anyway, I can't possibly spend that much."
Zhang Jingyi spoke in her usual soft, gentle voice, but for some reason, Liu Chuanfeng felt as though a shot had been fired straight through his heart: he was getting old, and he simply couldn't handle girls being this good to him.