Chapter 023: The Loser of the Clan Feud, a Hot Potato

The night was as dark as ink, and brilliant lights bathed the night market street. Tempting aromas drifted through the air, making mouths water and fingers itch for a taste.

At the end of the street, a thin figure watched the bustling night market, swallowed hard, and quietly retreated into the shadows.

The meal hour for the unemployed had ended; they packed up everything, erasing traces of their presence.

Now, the diners took the stage—seated at stalls, rolling up their sleeves to devour skewers and drink beer, talking and laughing loudly.

Tonight, it was Old Wang who presided over the night market stall. Qin Yuelan was the first to follow his lead, diligently learning every detail, striving to care for each guest.

Next was Fourth Uncle, who, though usually carefree, became uncommonly focused and serious when working, using his gift for making friends to its fullest.

Hours passed in the ebb and flow of business, and soon it was ten o’clock.

This was a rare leisure time; factory workers hadn’t finished their shifts, and most of the bosses who came to eat had already left.

Qin Yuelan wiped the sweat from her brow and entered, her eyes shining. “Boss, I just thought of a way to make money.”

“I want to transform our night market stall into a one-way job referral station—only charge the factories, not the workers.”

She’d come up with this idea after serving food to a factory middle manager. From their conversation, she learned that the man had received help from Old Wang and now only patronized his stall.

Qin Yuelan had specially asked. Old Wang said that quite a few—perhaps dozens—of people who had become managers or bosses had received his help, though they didn’t come every day.

Remembering the humiliation she’d suffered at the shady job agency earlier today, Qin Yuelan felt a surge of determination to replace them.

“Making good use of resources—that’s a great idea!”

Hearing this, Qin Yuelan grew excited. “Boss, do you agree?”

“Of course I do. But from now on, you need to think things through completely and not overlook the most dangerous parts.”

“Where?”

“The local shady job agencies. They’re not pushovers.”

A wave of people from all corners of the country streamed into the coastal cities, giving rise to countless black market job agencies.

Those who dared to operate in the shadows weren’t afraid of retaliation; they usually had connections or partnerships with local thugs and gangsters, some even being outright criminals.

Stealing their business is like killing their parents—if they see their business being taken, it’s no wonder they’d be furious!

“It’s fine. If they dare to come, I’ll beat them up!”

The speaker was Jiang Jiahao, a local. His family had fallen on hard times, so he was forced to work, and he’d been with Old Wang’s shop for nearly three years.

Upon hearing that Zhang Tianfeng planned to keep the low-priced set meals, and even lower the prices, he didn’t hesitate to stay.

“So confident, kid. Have you trained?” Fourth Uncle came in, smiling.

Jiang Jiahao nodded, flexing his biceps. “Of course I have. Fifteen years of internal martial arts training.”

Internal arts—not qi, but gong.

In the 1980s and 90s, there really was a group who practiced internal arts from childhood. That trend gradually faded as times changed.

“Impressive. I trained for two years and couldn’t stick with it.”

“It’s all about personality,” Jiang Jiahao replied. “Boss, don’t worry. I’ll guard this shop and make sure neither you nor Sister Lan have anything to fear.”

“Just don’t let the boss down. I’m just a worker too,” Qin Yuelan quickly added.

Zhang Tianfeng looked at Jiang Jiahao, then at Qin Yuelan, and sensed a subtle tension flickering between their glances.

Something was off between them.

It wasn’t that he had feelings for Qin Yuelan—he simply wanted to make her his first business partner. Anything that might affect his profits needed watching.

But it wasn’t time to speak; he’d wait and observe.

“Xiao Jiang, go watch the stall. I need to head home; I’ll be back in half an hour,” Old Wang said, taking off his chef’s jacket.

“Alright, Uncle Wang, take care.”

With Old Wang gone, Jiang Jiahao and Qin Yuelan took up posts outside, while Zhang Tianfeng stayed inside, enjoying the fan and reviewing the data Qin Yuelan had gathered that day.

Time flowed swiftly, and soon midnight struck. Workers poured out at the end of their shifts, and the night market street grew lively.

Not every factory provided meals and lodging; in Tangwan Village, most were small factories with stingy bosses who often tried to profit from workers’ food.

So most workers preferred to eat outside or cook for themselves rather than eat at the factory.

At peak hours, Zhang Tianfeng had to drop everything to help.

They worked nonstop until two in the morning, when they finally started closing up. Their shop, being the busiest, was always the last to finish.

Jiang Jiahao took the initiative to handle cleaning duties, while Fourth Uncle and Qin Yuelan packed up tables and chairs outside. Zhang Tianfeng counted the money inside.

A few minutes later, the tally was done. Total profit: 1,876.5. The gross profit was at least 1,000.

“See? I told you I wasn’t lying. This shop is booming, with plenty of regulars!” Old Wang laughed as he wiped the sweat from his bald head, shining like a glass marble.

Zhang Tianfeng raised an eyebrow. “I never doubted you. Don’t accuse me.”

“That’s good then. I’m going home to sleep. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to return to Panshi City tomorrow?”

“It’s raining heavily. The mountain floods washed out the tracks. My trip home is postponed three days.” Old Wang grinned. “Boss, you’ll have to feed me for a few more days.”

“Uncle Wang, you’re too polite. I’m delighted to have you here.”

Old Wang’s continued presence would help Zhang Tianfeng settle in faster.

The mention of heavy rain reminded Zhang Tianfeng of something. Typhoons were frequent in coastal regions, and when they came, they could be devastating.

In his previous life, he’d arrived in a coastal city in the 21st century. With mobility issues and living alone, he’d made plenty of preparations.

He learned how to survive a typhoon, about typhoon grades and types of destruction, and studied the damage caused at various landing sites in past years.

He remembered there was a typhoon in August of 1993, but couldn’t recall the exact date.

Perhaps he could use this unavoidable disaster to do some good.

After seeing Old Wang off, as he reached the shop entrance, he heard a faint, weak voice.

“Hello, I heard that here, if you help out, you can get food. May I work here?”

He looked up and saw a girl in patched clothes, her face waxy pale, gazing hopefully at the leftover scraps on the table.

Jiang Jiahao immediately shook his head. “We’re full. Please leave.”

“I’m fine with eating leftovers, as long as there’s food,” she insisted.

“I said no. Please go, don’t get us in trouble.”

Jiang Jiahao refused her coldly, crushing the light in her eyes.

Disheartened, the girl limped away.

Zhang Tianfeng frowned and spoke, “Stop working, all of you. Bring her back, feed her, and when she’s full, let her clean up.”

“Boss Zhang, you can’t do that,” Old Wang hurried to stop him.

“Old Wang, you were the one who suggested helping the needy. Why are you reneging?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to help, but we can’t afford to cross the people after her.”

Old Wang pulled Zhang Tianfeng aside and whispered, “She’s from the Chen family in Huicheng—the losing side of a clan feud. She’s been in Tangwan Town for a year now.”

“I felt sorry for her at first and gave her food. The next day, a Crown car blocked my stall, and a man surnamed Chen warned me not to help her, or I’d pay the price.”

“I’m not the only one; many in Tangwan Town have been warned by the Chen family.”