Chapter 67 - 62: Skiing Group

Chapter 67: Chapter 62: Skiing Group

Over the next few days, the people of the North Third District grew noticeably excited. When they returned from work, they’d gather for dinner and talk about nothing but the upcoming Ice Sculpture Festival. Some thoughtful residents froze blocks of ice and delivered them, while others voluntarily went to the plaza to help out. Ning He saw Knight and his friends rush out of the insulated shelter with small shovels several times, full of excitement.

The lively atmosphere almost made Ning He feel like she was celebrating a holiday—except for the killer pace of her work.

After the last massive queue, another large group arrived on Monday. The numbers were considerable, and Ning He’s team of three was once again exhausted. Fortunately, on Tuesday, the market administrator brought twenty students from a culinary academy to Ning He, telling her to train them over the next few days.

Ning He didn’t stand on ceremony. She kept simmering the soup base packets for herself, gave the fried dough sticks to Connie, and the fried tofu puffs and fried eggs to Ah Huai. All the other tasks were assigned to the group of seventeen and eighteen-year-old boys and girls.

These students were still in training, and they were all enthusiastic about the opportunity to participate in an event like this. They followed her instructions to the letter, much to Ning He’s satisfaction.

The market administrator even cleared out a dedicated space for them in the shelter area and set up several multi-burner stoves she had procured from who-knows-where. Their efficiency instantly multiplied.

The students’ tasks weren’t complex; they were mainly responsible for prepping ingredients and the final step of cooking the malatang. Ning He stressed the importance of the order in which different ingredients should be added to the pot and demonstrated the process a few times until they all basically got it. They were still a bit flustered on Tuesday, but by Wednesday, handling two to three hundred customers was a breeze.

That Wednesday, Leitel and his old buddies came to visit again, bringing another group with them. They lingered after their meal, pulling Ning He aside to whisper to her.

"Young lady, look, it’s been a few weeks since we bought that roasted pepper sauce. Do you think you could make another batch?" the old man with the cane asked cautiously, forcing an unnatural smile.

Leitel looked just as hopeful. "That’s right, my jar at home is long gone. We’re just waiting for you to have some free time to make us more. When do you think you’ll be able to?"

"Don’t think of us old-timers as being pushy," a thin old man chimed in. "It’s just that your sauce is delicious with everything—not too salty, not too spicy, it’s all just perfect. This old man here, I spread it on bread, add a spoonful to my fried eggs, and mix it right into my noodles and rice. The jar was empty in just a few days. If you ask me, this time you should make two *jin*—no, five *jin* would be more like it!" He held up a hand, his expression firm.

Ning He scratched her head. "I really have been busy lately. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a few days. The earliest I can do it is after the Ice Sculpture Festival ends next week."

’The crowds for malatang should thin out a bit after the festival. I might as well take a few days off then. I’ll have the time to make it.’

’This time, though, I’ll have to buy all the ingredients, so the profit margin will be a lot smaller. But these old men are such loyal customers, I can’t possibly turn them down.’

Leitel and his friends were dying to get their hands on the roasted pepper sauce right away, but seeing how incredibly busy Ning He’s stall was, they knew she was right.

"Fine, we’ll wait until after the festival. We can still get our fix with your malatang in the meantime."

When it was time to pay, the stout middle-aged man in their group paid nearly double the bill again. As a thank you, Ning He packed up a serving for them to take home. The old men left cheerfully, carrying the takeout container.

As Ning He watched them leave, she suddenly felt like something was off.

Except for the time she’d given them the roasted pepper sauce, it seemed the stout middle-aged man always paid for their meals.

The other old men never even made a token gesture of reaching for their wallets.

’What’s their relationship?’

’Friends from different generations?’

’Are they really that close?’

Ning He mused to herself, then turned to see Mia and Tina chatting animatedly with Connie.

"What’s all the chatter about?"

Connie grabbed her hand excitedly. "You’ll never guess! That popular post on the forum? They’re the ones who wrote it! Our business has been booming these past few days, and it’s all thanks to them!"

Ning He was surprised, too. She never would have guessed that the original poster, the one with over a hundred thousand followers, was actually the two young women right in front of her.

"Oh, so that was you! Thank you both so much!"

Mia smiled. "Don’t mention it. Your food is delicious. Even if we hadn’t said anything, people would have discovered you eventually."

"It’s true," Tina added. "You have no idea. After we ate here the first time, everything else tasted bland for days. All I could think about was the aroma of your malatang. If our shop hadn’t been so busy, we would’ve been back ages ago."

Ning He laughed. "Come by anytime you want. You’ve helped me out so much, from now on, your meals are on the house. Eat as much as you like."

Connie nodded vigorously. "Exactly! We would’ve had to pay for advertising anyway. Please, don’t be strangers. Just come by whenever you’re hungry. We won’t charge you from now on."

"Oh, we couldn’t possibly accept that," Tina said.

But Connie insisted, and eventually, the two had to accept.

After a bit more chatting, Ning He had an idea. She turned to Mia and said, "The festival is just around the corner. Could I ask you to help us with another post?"

"Of course! What do you want it to say?" Tina agreed readily.

"Just say that we’re making special preparations for the Ice Sculpture Festival over the next few days and that we’re also launching a new soup base flavor. Because of that, we can only serve a limited number of customers daily. To save people a wasted trip, could you please post a notice on the forum each day as soon as we sell out? And if people can’t manage to get a spot, tell them to wait for the Ice Sculpture Festival—we’ll make sure there’s more than enough for everyone to eat their fill then."

A new flavor? Not only was Tina stunned, but even Connie’s jaw dropped.

"No problem," Tina said. "Just message me when the time comes, and I promise I’ll post an update online right away."

Ning He thanked them and saw them off. Only then did Connie snap out of her daze.

"We’re really coming out with a new flavor?"

Ning He nodded. "Yep. Remember how popular the tomato meat sauce was?"

"Of course!" Connie’s eyes lit up.

"Our current soup base is good, but it’s numbing and spicy, which is too much for some people. The Ice Sculpture Festival will have all sorts of people—men, women, old, and young. If we add a tomato flavor, I guarantee no one will be able to tear themselves away."

"But we can’t use meat right now, can we?"

"Don’t worry. Leave it to me!"

A confident smile played on Ning He’s lips.

The tomato soup base test was scheduled for the weekend. On Thursday morning, Ning He got ready and waited at the entrance of the insulated shelter.

Ten minutes later, Ning He heard three sharp honks from outside—their arranged signal.

Ning He slowly made her way outside on her crutch. A rugged-looking SUV was parked by the side of the road. A huge man opened the driver’s door and hopped out.

"The boss said you hurt your leg and sent me to pick you up," Johnny said. He glanced at her crutch and grinned. "How’d you manage to injure your foot just from cooking? C’mon, I’ll carry you to the car!"

Before Ning He could protest, he swept an arm around her, hoisted her onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and carried her to the vehicle in a couple of strides.

By the time a dizzy Ning He had collected herself and sat up straight in the back seat, Johnny had already slammed on the accelerator, and the vehicle shot forward.

"Hey, this isn’t the way to Seven Wolves Street, is it?" Ning He said quickly, glancing outside.

"We’re not going to Seven Wolves Street. We’re meeting the boss and the others directly at the city gate. We’re taking a shortcut, so it’s gonna be a bumpy ride. Hold on tight!"

As he spoke, Johnny wrenched the steering wheel. The vehicle swerved sharply, diving into a narrow alley and speeding toward the nearest city gate.