Chapter 13 The New Restaurant Contract Finalized

Jiang Butong set forth his conditions, knowing full well that other shops could also produce imitations, but he insisted on an exclusive period. At the very least, this meant he could earn a few more days’ profit for himself. Wang Yun agreed—who knew if those other tapes would even sell well?

After bidding Wang Yun farewell, Jiang Butong and Chen Pan’er resumed their stroll.

“Are you really comfortable leaving the money with her?” Chen Pan’er asked, feeling that Jiang Butong was putting a bit too much trust in that woman.

“You’ll see. Every single one of those albums will become hits.” Jiang Butong spoke with absolute certainty.

Chen Pan’er wanted to argue, but when she recalled the decisive way Jiang Butong had handled things at the Chen Family Restaurant, she conceded that perhaps he was right. After all, one must always have dreams.

“Now it’s my turn to buy something,” she said, leading Jiang Butong to a decoration shop where she bought a heap of earrings and bracelet charms.

The owner, pleased with her swift purchases, even gifted Chen Pan’er a toadskin pouch. She tossed the pouch to Jiang Butong, then, feeling light and unburdened with just her wallet in hand, left the wholesale market.

They had only just left when the lanky, sharp-faced thug from earlier was watching their departing figures intently.

“Wolf, should we follow them?” a voice asked.

Wolf, the gangly ringleader, hesitated. “Eagle, you go check them out first. That kid doesn’t look like an easy target. Let’s not cause ourselves trouble.”

The yellow-haired thug with an eagle tattoo nodded, hands stuffed into his pockets, tossing his fringe in what he thought was a suave gesture.

By then, Jiang Butong and Chen Pan’er had already exited the market.

“You mentioned changing the spot for our stall last time—where’s the new place?” Jiang Butong asked.

“On Huaxing Road. They’ve built a lot of new apartments and factories there. Plenty of workers around.” Chen Pan’er had a knack for business—clearly, she’d scouted the local market thoroughly.

“Is it far?” Jiang Butong, laden with decorations, was currently serving as her free labor.

“Not far, just two streets over.” She flashed him a smile, “When we get there, I’ll treat you to a Coca Cola.”

“Coke costs next to nothing. If you’d hired a porter to carry all this from here, it’d cost at least three yuan.” Jiang Butong grumbled.

“How about this: you get a thirty percent cut of today’s stall profits?” Chen Pan’er suddenly proposed.

This time, it was Jiang Butong’s turn to be surprised. Normally, she was rather tight-fisted, but she was being generous with him now.

“Forget the money. Can I stay at your place again tonight?” he asked.

Chen Pan’er’s bright eyes locked on his. She snorted, “We’ll see how you behave.”

That afternoon, they grabbed some simple pork knuckle rice to settle lunch.

Jiang Butong squatted by the roadside, wolfing down his meal. Honestly, food in this era tasted so much better than in his previous life. Later, as demand grew, so many additives were thrown into food that natural flavors were lost. If he ever got the chance, he’d have to get involved in the culinary seasoning industry too.

At this hour, the factory workers hadn’t finished their shifts yet; those wandering about were mostly older folks.

When Jiang Butong went to throw out the trash, he suddenly spotted someone loitering at the street corner—it was the same pickpocket from the morning. He returned to Chen Pan’er’s side without betraying any emotion.

“What’s wrong?” Chen Pan’er noticed the concern on his face.

“Nothing. The thugs around here—are they from the same gang as the ones at your old stall?” he asked.

She shook her head, unsure herself.

By evening, the nearby factory workers began pouring out—most of them born in the seventies, the new generation, and the earliest to venture out into the world in groups. Jiang Butong knew that, in the next ten or twenty years, this generation would amass the most wealth: tough, hardworking, and receptive to new things.

As expected, he saw female workers emerging from the factories—some in miniskirts, some in flared pants, some with their hair permed in big waves.

Chen Pan’er had tidied up the area around their stall, even thoughtfully laying down a sheet beneath their wares.

Groups of young women clustered around, trying on earrings, bracelets, and necklaces, admiring themselves in a small mirror.

Jiang Butong watched as the stash of jewelry shrank before his eyes. He was stunned—he hadn’t expected street vending to be this easy in this era. Wasn’t this just effortless profit?

Even the old man selling popsicles nearby kept glancing over, envy written all over his face. His own box still held plenty of popsicles, yet hardly anyone was buying—even though he only charged five cents apiece.

By the time all the factory workers had passed, Chen Pan’er’s bags of earrings, bracelets, and necklaces had been completely cleared out.

Chen Pan’er, eyes sparkling with greed, quietly counted her money—ten-cent notes, fifty-cent notes, one-yuan bills. With wholesale prices of thirty or forty cents and retail prices of seventy or eighty cents—sometimes even a yuan—the gross margin reached as high as 50 to 70 percent. In just one afternoon, she’d made over thirty yuan.

Tying the money up with a rubber band, she slipped it into her pocket.

“Let’s go home,” she said with a proud smile, taking Jiang Butong’s hand as they left.

Not long after, the thug called Eagle also left.

“Wolf, I checked. That couple is just running a street stall,” Eagle reported.

“Damn, so they’ve left already?” Wolf took a deep drag of his cigarette.

“They just left—we could still catch them if we hurry!”

Eagle was still stewing. He’d been stealing for years and had botched jobs before, but his victims had never dared pursue things. He hadn’t expected to get played by someone his own age today.

“They’ll likely be back tomorrow. Tell the guys to keep a close watch,” Wolf said, flicking away his cigarette butt.

Chen Pan’er and Jiang Butong returned home and rested for a bit before heading to the Chen Family Restaurant—Jiang Butong wanted to check on the progress with the new location.

By dusk, the restaurant was bustling, every seat filled. Chen Sheng had somehow procured makeshift tables and stools, setting them up outside. It was summer break, the weather was hot, but customers didn’t seem to mind—the food here was affordable and plentiful.

Chen Sheng hurriedly greeted Jiang Butong before ducking back into the kitchen.

Jiang Dazhuang was running around with sweat streaming down his face, shuttling between the kitchen and the dining area nonstop.

Jiang Butong lounged by the cash register, idly cracking sunflower seeds.

Seeing how busy Jiang Dazhuang was, Chen Pan’er washed her hands and started helping out.

Jiang Yuan found a spare moment to slip over to Jiang Butong.

“How’d the stall do today, Xiaotong?” he asked.

Jiang Butong handed him some sunflower seeds, saying leisurely, “Nothing huge, but we made a tidy sum.”

“How much is a tidy sum?” Jiang Yuan pressed.

“Thirty or forty yuan, give or take.”

“Damn, that much? Just the other day, the few of us were breaking our backs at the construction site for a measly ten yuan a day,” Jiang Yuan blurted out, raising his voice.

“Don’t worry. There’ll be plenty of chances to make money down the line. For now, let’s make sure we’re steady on our feet. I’ll take you guys to the big leagues in the future,” Jiang Butong replied. He hardly cared about such small profits—his ambitions were much greater. The whole city of Pengcheng was within his sights.

“You really have an eye for opportunity. Dazhuang and I will stick with you, then. I’ll get back to work now,” Jiang Yuan said, patting him on the shoulder.

Jiang Butong watched Chen Pan’er working, delicate face beaded with sweat, her slender waist and the curve of her jeans accentuating her figure—he found her more pleasing to the eye by the moment.

They toiled on until nearly ten o’clock before the last customers left. After cleaning up the mess, their day’s work was finally done.

Chen Sheng had noticed Chen Pan’er helping out. He sidled over to Jiang Butong and whispered, “You’ve won her over?”

“What?”

Chen Sheng jerked his chin toward Chen Pan’er. “The girl.”

Understanding dawned on Jiang Butong and he chuckled. “Not yet.”

“She’s sensible, independent, and sharp. The more I see her, the more I like her. You’d better make your move soon, before someone else does,” Chen Sheng said.

“Alright, I hear you. Are you finished with work? If so, let’s take a break.”

Jiang Butong understood Chen Sheng’s intentions well enough. As for Chen Pan’er, there was no rush—he’d take his time.

“Everyone’s exhausted. I’ll whip up a few dishes to reward the crew,” Chen Sheng said, heading into the kitchen.

Half an hour later, Chen Pan’er emerged from the kitchen carrying dishes.

“Dinner’s ready, everyone come eat.”

“I’m starving after today,” Jiang Dazhuang said, already familiar enough not to stand on ceremony, sampling a piece of meat first.