Chapter Seventeen: Some Also Love Spicy Flavors [Thanks to a Refined Grey for the Clan Leader's Gift]
After seeing off his supplier, Chen Zhou focused on his small business.
His steamed bun stall gradually developed a number of regular customers.
People who went out for evening strolls would often stop by the stall, chatting casually with Chen Zhou or familiar patrons.
Questions like:
"Has your child started first grade yet?"
"How’s business today?"
"Missed you last night; I almost had to row my way out."
Most of these customers were neighbors living nearby, delighted to have a tasty little stall right in their area.
On the way home, they’d pick up a couple of buns—delicious and filling.
Feeling the trust and recognition from everyone, Chen Zhou was deeply satisfied.
Unlike his previous job—
Drawing endless plumbing diagrams without ever knowing if people were satisfied with the results.
Now, diners voted with their feet on whether the food was good or not.
This sense of reward and involvement was something no other job could offer.
Of course, beyond subjective feelings, Chen Zhou’s stall frequently received a string of “Positive Review +1” notifications popping up now and then.
As the day wound down, Chen Zhou called his wife, asking her to bring their child over so they could ride home in the little cart with a cheerful “clatter-clatter.”
He could hear his little girl’s excitement even through the phone.
At that moment, a couple approached the bun stall.
An elderly man smoking nearby immediately recognized them.
“Hey, Xiao Meng! Here for buns? This place is really good. You should’ve tried it earlier.”
Meng Da replied, “Yeah, heard the taste was great…”
After finishing his call, Chen Zhou turned toward the voice.
It was none other than the couple from the “Diner Updates”—the owners of Jin Da Tobacco and Liquor.
Chen Zhou had visited their shop a few times before.
During lunch and dinner hours, he often saw the couple tucked away in a small corner behind the counter, setting up a table for a quick meal.
He recalled that they always ate from plastic takeout containers.
Probably didn’t cook much at home.
The couple inquired about the buns’ prices.
Chen Zhou stuck to his usual routine, offering a discount on the remaining buns.
Mrs. Meng, the tobacco shop owner’s wife, seemed quite pleased with the buns and told Chen Zhou to pack up the rest. She even helped open the bag.
Her husband, Mr. Meng, however, was fixated on the condiments.
He picked up a small cup and asked,
“Brother, this chili oil looks good. Where do you get it? Does the Happiness Market sell it?”
Chen Zhou explained, “I make it myself.”
“Oh? How much per bottle?”
“No charge—it comes free with the buns.”
“Well, then I won’t be polite,” Mr. Meng said, already opening the chili oil.
Under the LED light of the snack cart, the chili oil shimmered a deep red, clear and glowing faintly golden.
The chili flakes settled slowly at the bottom as he tilted the cup.
He leaned in to smell it... the aroma was delightful, apparently fried in peanut oil.
He sighed in delight,
“Brother, this smells amazing.”
Chen Zhou smiled and emphasized, “It’s the chili oil that smells good.”
...Please don’t put me on any weird “must-eat” lists.
Mr. Meng rarely cooked at home but knew that anything made with peanut oil was bound to be excellent.
Chen Zhou briefly described the ingredients.
Besides the visible chili flakes and the fragrant peanut oil, the chili oil’s aroma came from four spices—Sichuan peppercorn, star anise, cinnamon bark, and bay leaf—
And four aromatics—garlic, ginger, onion, and scallion.
These were strained out as residue, leaving only their essence infused in the hot oil.
This spiced oil was then poured over chili flakes, crushed peanuts, and sesame seeds to create the final flavor.
Impressed by the quality ingredients, Mr. Meng appreciated it even more.
“I love spicy food—eating buns or dumplings without chili oil is no fun. How many buns come with a bottle of this?”
Hearing this, Chen Zhou generously grabbed several bottles, packed them into a bag, and handed it over.
“Here, enjoy.”
“Thanks a lot, brother.”
Mr. Meng offered a lotus-flower cigarette in return, but Chen Zhou didn’t smoke.
Seizing the opportunity with the chili oil, Chen Zhou struck up a conversation with the Meng couple.
He initially wanted to ask about rental prices for nearby shops.
They readily engaged on the topic.
“Brother, I haven’t tried your buns yet, but just from this chili oil, I know your skill’s good. Ever thought about opening a small shop?”
“I have that plan,” Chen Zhou nodded, then asked,
“Mind if I ask how much rent you pay annually for your tobacco shop?”
Meng Da held up his thumb and pinky.
Sixty thousand...
Chen Zhou sighed,
“That’s not cheap at all.”
Mrs. Liu Jinyan, the tobacco shop owner’s wife, frowned.
“Who says it isn’t? We’re just working for the landlord all year.”
She differed from her husband’s view.
“Don’t listen to him. Renting a shop might end up losing money. Your stall costs are still reasonable.”
The couple then shared details about local shop layouts, rent, and market conditions.
When the residential complex was first sold, housing prices were at their peak, so ground-floor shops rented cheaply, making landlords feel they were losing out...
While Chen Zhou and his wife packed up, his phone buzzed with a few messages.
They were from Comrade Wang Meng.
He said he had originally planned to stop by for a bun and discuss making micro-videos but was called to work overtime for a surprise inspection near the university town, so he couldn’t make it.
Chen Zhou replied,
“Boss, you’re a city inspector—why report your itinerary to a little street vendor like me?”
“You’re no fun!” Wang Meng sent two goofy emojis.
Thinking of Wang Meng, Chen Zhou recalled his oft-spoken truth—friendships that don’t share even a bite rarely last long.
He turned to his wife.
“Yifan, is there anything you especially love to eat?”
“I’ve got foodie intel, can keep an eye out for you.”
Mrs. Lin pondered deeply, hesitated, then tilted her head and shyly said,
“Steamed buns?”
Chen Zhou was already trying not to laugh... Come on, don’t lie to me—you were tired of them just a few days ago.
But on second thought, it made sense.
Asking one’s wife for her “favorite” or “special” food was a bit of a challenge.
When Chen Zhou and Mrs. Lin first met in college, she was exactly like this.
Over the years, they never had a fiery, passionate romance, but neither did they experience boredom.
Meanwhile,
Chen Taotao, having waited a long time with no car departure, overheard her parents talking about favorite foods and couldn’t help joining in:
“Daddy, ask Taotao what she loves to eat.”
Chen Zhou teased the child,
“Daddy’s not asking.”
“Aww, then you ask me~”