rpbooks Chapter 149 In this world, how can craftsmanship compete with money?
Chapter 149 In this world, how can craftsmanship compete with money?
The colorful ribbons on the long street were still fluttering in the air, and the shouts of the thirty-odd black-clad salesmen in front of the thirteen new shops disturbed the tranquility that the old street had maintained for decades.
The sharp buzzing of walkie-talkies and the crisp sound of black and gold cards hitting plastic packaging made this morning, which was originally filled with the aroma of morning tea, feel like a monster forcibly inflated by capital.
A dozen or so old neighbors who had been huddled together at the street corner were now gathered in a dead corner of the greenish stone-paved road.
They instinctively shrank their necks, trying to avoid the extremely glaring cold spotlights not far away.
Most of them had one or two gold-plated black membership cards forcibly stuffed into their hands. Looking at the modern restaurant complex that seemed to have sprung up overnight, their weathered old faces were filled with unusual solemnity and sighs.
"Sigh, what a pity... what a real shame about Boss Chen's 'Human World' restaurant."
Old Wang from the sewing shop slapped his thigh quite hard.
He reluctantly stuffed the black card into his pocket, looking at the small, dark wooden door that was still tightly closed in the distance, his voice low.
"Look at this setup! More than a dozen shops lined up in one row, each with a walkie-talkie. I heard they've even formed some kind of alliance with the city's big shopping malls and cinemas."
The most crucial point is that this time they did it in a grand and open manner, without smashing up shops or hiring thugs to block the door; they were simply opening their doors to do business in a fair and square way.
Offering a hot pot for 9.9 yuan is hardly business; it's practically robbing Mr. Chen out of his business!
In this world, how can skill compete with money?
"you do not say."
Aunt Li, who sells paper offerings next door, also wiped a bead of sweat from the corner of her eye. She lifted the vegetable basket she was carrying, lowered her voice, glanced nervously in the direction of the black Mercedes, and sighed softly.
"Boss Chen and his team drove back early in the morning. I saw them at a glance. There was nothing in the car except a basket of loach and red chili peppers. There were no other substantial dishes."
More than an hour has passed, and not a single light in "Human Fireworks" is still on.
Judging from this situation, Boss Chen and his team were probably completely stunned by their tactics and couldn't think of any countermeasures.
The old neighbors shook their heads, whispering amongst themselves, their words filled with the helplessness and humility of ordinary people facing capitalist giants.
Regarding the matter concerning Old Liu and his wife, they sincerely admired Chen Feng for his integrity and loyalty.
But they themselves were just peasants who earned two or three thousand a month and made a living by mending and selling odds and ends. Where did they have the ability and confidence to help Chen Feng challenge the entire Su Group?
"Chen Feng had the ability to protect Lao Liu, but now, who can protect Chen Feng...?"
Old Wang exhaled a cigarette ring with a somewhat dejected expression.
The smoke was instantly and roughly sucked away by the newly installed high-definition exhaust fans on both sides, and his cloudy eyes stared blankly at the alloy sign that was as bright as day.
In their subconscious, they felt that with this performance over, the future of the old street would completely fall into the hands of Su Ang, the young master who sat in his black Mercedes-Benz and looked down on people.
Meanwhile, inside that wooden door that everyone lamented and mourned.
"Master, it's getting more and more lively outside. I just peeked through the window and it looks like all the bargain hunters in the south of the city are blocking the west end of the road."
"How much longer...how much longer do we need to simmer this pot of loach?"
Xingruo wore a gray apron, her voice carrying an unmistakable urgency.
Inside the kitchen, a fierce, dark blue flame was roaring and raging.
A large black iron pot, more than half a meter wide, was placed in the center of the flames. The thirty pounds of loach inside the pot had been sealed at the bottom by Chen Feng with purple garlic, finely chopped red chili peppers, and golden-yellow cooked vegetable oil.
"There are still 45 minutes left. Turn up the heat to reduce the sauce, then simmer the bones over low heat. We can't rush it."
Chen Feng held the large black iron ladle firmly in his hand.
His gray short-sleeved shirt was slightly damp with sweat from the heat, but his face showed no sign of panic or unease throughout.
He stared intently at the red oil bubbles that kept rising with the heat.
"Xingruo, bring the work surface over here, let's get ready to make potstickers."
"Yes, Master!!" Xingruo felt relieved when she saw Chen Feng's calm and composed expression.
"Brother Chen... Boss Chen..."
Just then, the curtain in the kitchen was hurriedly pulled open.
Old Liu, the owner of Old Liu's Noodle Shop, was wearing a yellowed apron. His legs were shaking violently, and his wrinkled old face was full of bitterness.
He gripped Chen Feng's sleeves tightly with both hands, his voice trembling uncontrollably:
"Boss Chen, what... what should we do?! Just now, that salesman in the black suit from the restaurant next door called 'Extreme Flavor Space' set up a megaphone in front of my noodle shop and shouted that their braised pork noodles are only 9.9 yuan a bowl today!!"
I... I just glanced outside, and all my usual neighbors who come here for morning tea are now squeezing through the floor-to-ceiling windows with their black gold cards in hand... My soup is ready, and I haven't seen a single customer.
"Boss Chen, I've lived most of my life, and I've never seen anything like this before. I'm scared..."
Chen Feng put down the large black iron ladle in his hand.
"Clang."
He slowly turned around and quietly gazed at the terrified old man before him.
"Uncle Liu, with me, Chen Feng, here on this old street, no one can smash your stove."
Chen Feng's voice was extremely low and hoarse, yet it exuded a confidence that left no room for retreat.
"They use money to pave the way, aiming for traffic and a quick victory."
But what we hold in our hands is the craft left by our ancestors.
Go back next door, knead the dough as usual, make the broth as usual, and everything will be fine as before.
There's no need to pay attention to those chain store signs outside. Time will tell. Don't worry too much. Go back and prepare.
After uttering these resounding words, Chen Feng abruptly turned around.
"Su Chen!! Stop standing there peeking through the window cracks! Check the tables and chairs one last time, and get the barley tea boiling!! Xing Ruo, get the potstickers ready, and stick them all around the edge of the pan! We're...opening for business!!"
"boom--!!"
With Chen Feng's roar, the smoky aroma of the kitchen, which had been sealed off by grease and contained thirty pounds of fresh loach and bright red chili peppers, finally broke through all the barriers in that instant, transforming into an unstoppable wave that swept wildly across the entire ancient street.