On the second day of the Lunar New Year, many people visit relatives, and many shops are closed, so Xia Baozhu's shop, which is open today, is particularly crowded.

Niu Yiming stood in front of the counter, wearing San Gou's chef's hat, and said to the customers, "We only have sago milk tea right now. The fried chicken will take a while. You can buy a cup of milk tea and sit down to wait. We'll call you when the fried chicken is ready."

"Okay, then give me a cup of milk tea first."

Niu Yiming collected the money, and Feng Jingnian, who was next to him, immediately scooped a spoonful from the sago pudding bucket, then scooped a spoonful of milk tea from another bucket, put the lid on, and placed it on the counter.

"Your milk tea and straw are a bit hot." Niu Yiming put the milk tea in a bag and handed it out.

Sun Xingyan wandered around outside before entering the store, and when he saw the scene before him, he gaped in astonishment.

"What's going on?" He went behind the counter and asked Shui Luoyang, who was poking holes in the chicken, "Why are you doing this?"

“We came to buy breakfast, but they didn’t have any. Then there were so many people that the owner couldn’t keep up. Since we were all acquaintances, we offered to help. The owner then offered to pay us ten yuan a day for our help.”

"You'd do it for ten dollars?"

Sun Xingyan glanced at Xia Baozhu, who was making fried chicken. The price she paid was quite high, probably because of him.

"Yeah, we're just killing time anyway."

Have you ever cooked at home?

"Yes, I have. You've forgotten how I used to bring eggs to school all the time when I was in elementary school. I boiled them myself." Shui Luoyang was very proud that she could make boiled eggs when she was in elementary school.

"Alright then, do your best and try to become a good culinary teacher."

Xia Baozhu didn't expect these people to help her, nor did she expect so many customers today.

She was out of chicken legs, so she asked Sun Xingyan to call the restaurant owner to deliver some.

She originally planned to make boneless chicken feet whenever she had time, but she got so busy that she couldn't stop.

If it weren't for Sun Xingyan's friends today, she probably would have had to close down after a busy morning.

For lunch, each person eats two chicken wraps while busy eating.

In the evening, Sun Xingyan ordered a milk tea and a pudding, delivered them home, and then came back.

"I'm treating everyone to dinner tonight, Xia Zhaodi, are you coming?"

"Let me treat you," Xia Baozhu smiled. "I haven't properly thanked you yet."

“Sure, you have money anyway.” Sun Xingyan put his arm around Niu Yiming’s shoulder and said, “After we finish eating, we’ll go sing karaoke.”

Yelanxuan is a newly opened restaurant in a concert hall last year, where you can eat, sing, and dance.

It occupies a large area; upon entering, the lobby on the first floor is approximately 300 square meters.

In the middle was a small platform made of yellow wooden flooring, with colorful lights rotating on it and sound equipment placed underneath. There was a karaoke machine, and a beautiful woman was standing in front of it singing the well-known song "Tian Mi Mi".

The sixty-square-meter empty space around the stage is the dance floor, where several couples are already dancing.

The rest of the space is occupied by dining tables, where guests can enjoy their meals while looking out over the dance floor. They can also request songs or sing their own; simply give the song title to the waiter.

This was invested in by the owner of Yelanxuan after he returned from doing business in the south.

Sun Xingyan had been here a few times, but he disliked the noise while eating, so he chose the restaurant on the second floor.

"Eating is eating. We'll go down to sing after we finish eating."

My friends all agree with this statement.

Graduate students like Niu Yiming and Feng Jingnian have no say because they are short of money.

Their monthly allowance is barely enough for living expenses, so they basically have to mooch off people from places like this, and the people they mooch off are big shots like Sun Xingyan.

Xia Baozhu took off her hat and mask and hung her oversized down jacket on the rack next to her.

The moment she turned around, the three people who were already curious about her appearance were stunned.

Sun Xingyan grunted, waking up his friend.

"Xingyan, you're not telling the truth!" Feng Jingnian punched Sun Xingyan's thigh under the table, then whispered in Sun Xingyan's ear.

"How am I not telling the truth?" Sun Xingyan sneered. He was dressed thickly and wasn't afraid of being hit.

Niu Yiming, who considers himself a contemporary writer, had a whole host of familiar poems and songs in his mind.

"Her lips were bright red, her teeth were white and shiny, her eyes were bright and expressive, and her dimples were charming."

"Her eyes sparkled with brilliance, her face radiant and jade-like. Before she could utter a word, her breath was as delicate as an orchid. Her graceful figure made me forget to eat."

"How beautiful it is, like the sunset reflected in the clear pond."

"How divine is he? The moon shines on the cold river."

Her eyes sparkled, captivating his heart.

Shui Luoyang kicked him with her foot: "Alright, stop looking, or your eyeballs will pop out."

"What was I looking at?" Niu Yiming blushed and tried to explain, "I suddenly thought of a poem and my mind wandered."

Xia Baozhu ordered two dishes and asked Sun Xingyan and the others to each order one as well.

Sun Xingyan suddenly brought up the English translation of his poem "Ascending the Stork Tower" from before the Lunar New Year, asking his friends how to translate it in a way that would better capture the beauty of the original poem.

Surprisingly, Sun Xingyan, who seemed to be ignorant and incompetent, would discuss English at the dinner table.

The English proficiency of everyone present is quite good, especially Feng Jingnian, who, with a beautiful woman in the audience, speaks fluently and eloquently about English poetry.

Every now and then, William Wordsworth, George Gordon Byron, Percy Bysshe Shelley, and William Butler Yeats would pop out of his mouth.

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