Chapter 7: I'm Her Boyfriend—Do You Have a Problem with That?

Upon hearing the news of Chen Pan’er’s arrival, Jiang Butong immediately set aside the acquisition business and personally invited her into the Chen Family Restaurant.

The owner and honorary head chef, Chen Sheng, treated Chen Pan’er as if she were his own daughter-in-law. Without another word, he ordered all his signature dishes to be served.

Inside the private room, worlds apart from the noisy and lively main hall, Chen Pan’er and Jiang Butong sat opposite each other across a small round table. For reasons perhaps due to the confined space or something else, a faint awkwardness hung between them.

“So… is your foot completely healed?” It was only after a long silence that Jiang Butong finally broke the ice.

“It’s nothing serious, just a sprain from running away. You know that.” She replied.

“Then why did you tell me you were hurt by gangsters?”

Chen Pan’er tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled softly.

“By the way, I actually wanted to ask you something. Would you be interested in producing your animal chess as a proper board and pieces for sale?”

Remembering how they would huddle together every day playing animal chess, Chen Pan’er’s cheeks flushed faintly. Ever since he taught her how to play animal chess, Jiang Butong had keenly realized that games like Animal Chess, Three Kingdoms Kill, and Reversi, so popular in later generations, had yet to appear in this era.

“Of course I’m interested.” Jiang Butong nodded and smiled at Jiang Yuan, who was serving the dishes, placing a generous piece of sweet and sour pork onto Chen Pan’er’s plate. “But it’s not as easy as wanting to do it—we don’t have the money…”

Chen Pan’er didn’t even glance at the sweet and sour pork; instead, she stared intently at him. “We can start by running a street stall to save up!”

“Uh?” Jiang Butong was taken aback, suddenly remembering that he’d been so busy these past few days he almost forgot about the street stall plan.

“You haven’t forgotten, have you?” Chen Pan’er eyed him suspiciously before popping the sweet and sour pork into her mouth.

“Of course not! Eat up. After lunch, I have a gift for you!” Jiang Butong hurriedly changed the subject.

“This pork tastes just like my mom’s!” Chen Pan’er’s eyes lit up after chewing a few bites.

“Doesn’t it? Brother Sheng’s cooking is second to none. Most customers say his food tastes just like home.” Jiang Butong smiled, pouring her a glass of orange juice.

Chen Pan’er frowned slightly but said nothing more.

A sumptuous lunch passed amid their laughter and conversation. After dining, Jiang Butong said a quick word to Jiang Yuan, then accompanied Chen Pan’er to her rented apartment.

Chen Pan’er’s apartment wasn’t far from the restaurant. The place was small but impeccably clean and tidy, with a faint, lingering scent of osmanthus in the air. She grabbed a large tote bag, checked its contents, then unceremoniously tossed it at Jiang Butong, picked up her purse, and led the way.

“If we run into any troublemakers demanding protection money, whatever you do, don’t confront them head-on…”

“Why not?” Jiang Butong frowned.

“Why do you think? Look at our skinny arms and legs—do you think we could take them?” Chen Pan’er shot him a look as if he were an idiot.

Jiang Butong scratched his nose. “So you’re just going to pay the protection money from now on?”

At that, Chen Pan’er’s temper flared. “Over the past ten days, I’ve lost at least six or seven hundred yuan in earnings, not to mention the three hundred for medical bills!”

As if afraid he wouldn’t understand, she explained, “It’s not that I’m scared of them, I just can’t be bothered to argue with them anymore. Got it?”

Jiang Butong looked at her intently and nodded.

Not another word was exchanged as Jiang Butong, carrying the tote like an obedient lackey, followed Chen Pan’er through the streets. Before long, they arrived at a bustling intersection.

Following her instructions, Jiang Butong dropped the bag and wiped the sweat from his brow, glancing around. It was the height of afternoon, the sun blazing overhead, yet the intersection was crowded with vendors: selling snacks, cheap clothes, jewelry, cosmetics, even “vitality wine” and tiger bone liquor. The narrow street was packed even tighter by their stalls.

Chen Pan’er had chosen a spot half in the shade of a tree. Watching her expertly arrange an array of trinkets and children’s toys, Jiang Butong found himself entranced. She squatted, sorting and categorizing each item with focused attention, sunlight cutting through strands of hair at her temple, casting a glow on her fair, rosy face—making her all the more captivating.

It didn’t take long before the stall was neatly organized. Catching Jiang Butong staring blankly, Chen Pan’er wiped her brow and scolded, “I’ve never seen someone so oblivious. In this heat, you don’t even think to buy a girl a cold drink?”

Jiang Butong blushed, glanced around, and hurried towards a nearby shop with a refrigerator.

It was only when he held two chilled bottles of Coke that he realized—so he was being used as free labor and a generous benefactor?

Half amused, half curious, he handed her a Coke and raised an eyebrow. “Boss Chen, two yuan fifty, please.”

“Pfft!” Chen Pan’er choked, the mouthful of Coke she’d just swallowed spraying straight onto his face.

Standing almost nose-to-nose, Jiang Butong was drenched in her spit-take.

He pressed his lips together, frowning at her. Flushing, Chen Pan’er quickly stood on tiptoe and wiped his face with her sleeve.

“Two fifty…” Jiang Butong began again, but as he caught a glimpse of the soft whiteness at her neckline, he flushed and the words stuck in his throat.

Oblivious to his discomfort, Chen Pan’er stifled a laugh. “So stingy… I’ll pay you double after we close up shop! You can’t spend money at the start of a stall, or it’ll ruin business for the whole day.”

“Really?” Jiang Butong seized the excuse, taking a long swig of Coke to calm himself.

“Of course! There’s a lot to running a stall. Stick with me for two days and you’ll get the hang of it.”

She noticed a little boy at the neighboring stall eyeing their Cokes and beckoned him over.

The boy, dirty-faced and shabbily dressed, ran up. “Sister Pan’er, I haven’t seen you in days—I missed you so much!”

“You sweet-talker, I bet you just missed snacks!” She ruffled his nose, laughing, and handed him a Coke.

He thanked her and ran back to his own stall. The man at his stall, burly and scarred, nodded at Chen Pan’er.

“Xiao Hu and Brother Liu rely on each other—they’ve only been running a stall here for about a month…” Chen Pan’er began to explain to Jiang Butong, but noticing a girl squatting nearby inspecting jewelry, she hurried over to introduce her wares, leaving Jiang Butong smiling quietly to himself.

He had to admit—whether it was Chen Pan’er’s salesmanship or her eye for stock, by dusk, the stall’s carpet, which had been overflowing with goods, now showed many empty spots.

“Take that lady with the child just now…” Chen Pan’er was in the midst of sharing sales tips with Jiang Butong when several shadows suddenly loomed over their stall.

Jiang Butong was the first to sense something amiss. Looking up at the group of thuggish men with a glance, he immediately understood. Chen Pan’er also looked up, and upon seeing the man at the front—yellow-haired, clad in a black leather jacket—her face tightened with obvious anxiety.