Chapter 1 If we're talking about the person in the world who least wants to time travel, He Zhao is definitely one of them. Her family passed away early.
If there's one person in the world who least wants to time travel, it's definitely He Zhao. Her family passed away early, but they left her three buildings to collect rent from. She lived a carefree life, spending her days playing games and ordering takeout. This kind of blissful life was incredibly comfortable for He Zhao.
But it seems that when someone is too comfortable, they easily attract attention and are also easily struck by lightning. Although He Zhao wasn't struck by lightning, she... was kidnapped by the system.
This system is called the Late Night Street Vendor System.
When He Zhao heard the system introduce itself, her brain completely shut down; she couldn't process it at all. When she finally understood what the system meant, her almond-shaped eyes widened in disbelief. It was called the "Midnight Street Vendor System"—what good could it possibly be?!
It's late at night! Setting up a stall! Getting to work!
The greatest hardship He Zhao had ever endured in her life was crying uncontrollably at her parents' funerals. But even with all her relatives gone, she remained a pampered rich girl who never lifted a finger. As a child, her family never made her do any work, and as she grew up, she never did any work at all.
He Zhao never imagined that someone like her would have to set up a stall to work.
On her third night setting up her stall, He Zhao had cursed the system a thousand and one times. Because this system was truly no good; she insisted she had been abducted by the system, and the system… didn't dare deny it.
From owning three rented buildings to being reduced to living in a tiny rented room after transmigrating, the contrast is heartbreaking. He Zhao never dreamed he would ever be so poor.
When she first transmigrated, she was lying in her rented room, almost unable to breathe. She didn't know which sub-landlord was so talented that he transformed a 120-square-meter house into six small single rooms, each starting at 800 yuan. The room that the system rented for He Zhao was the smallest of them.
He Zhao will pay three months' rent upfront and one month's rent as a deposit; he'll have to figure out the rent for the rest of the time.
He Zhao didn't actually plan to set up a stall. Her first thought was: "I might as well die. Maybe if I die now, I can travel back in time." But the system gave a negative answer, and she had been hungry for a whole day. With no other choice, He Zhao had to start her stall life.
The first step to setting up a stall is to learn the trade.
Someone like He Zhao, who has never lifted a finger in the kitchen, would never have cooked a single meal before, so how could she possibly go out and set up a stall? After being pulled into the system space, the system began its tutorial. To be considerate of He Zhao, it even gave her three options: plain noodles, millet porridge, and rice.
Without hesitation, He Zhao chose white rice.
Nonsense! You have to boil water yourself to make plain noodles, and you have to carefully simmer millet porridge over a low flame. But rice is all you need to cook in a rice cooker.
However, cooking rice, as taught by the system, is not such a simple matter. From choosing the type of rice to rinsing it and cooking it, there are many intricacies involved. He Zhao was only focused on getting by, so all the rice she learned to cook under the system's instruction was substandard.
He Zhao spent nearly six months being tormented by the system in the system space before he finally learned how to cook a plate of rice that satisfied the system.
Even the system couldn't help but speak up: "You truly are the worst host I've ever had."
He Zhao rolled his eyes so hard they almost reached the sky: "You damn bastard, I never asked you to bind yourself to me! Go find someone else!"
Fortunately, time was paused in the system space; otherwise, He Zhao would have been wondering where he would sleep that night the moment he stepped out of the system space. The system was somewhat humane, providing He Zhao with a cart for setting up his stall and the corresponding tableware and cooking utensils, although He Zhao had to prepare the materials himself.
He Zhao originally wanted to save time by ordering directly through a food delivery app. However, it was too expensive, and her account balance simply couldn't cover the cost. This rich girl, who had never experienced hardship, had no choice but to sigh and ask the other young couple she shared an apartment with about the nearby farmers' market before actually visiting it and buying rice that the system approved.
After a good night's sleep and some takeout, she finally got on her tricycle at 10 p.m. to set up her stall.
These small food carts that only operate late at night have a special name in her hometown—"street vendor stalls." It's said that this term originated in Hong Kong. During the occupation of Hong Kong, most of the police were foreigners. Street vendors who were caught would face severe punishment, and if the police arrived, people would spread the word, shouting, "Run! The Japanese are coming!" Thus, the name "street vendor stalls" came about.
However, He Zhao was not from Gangcheng. In her memory, even in her hometown, the small stalls that came out to set up late at night were called the same thing.
She used to drive around at night looking for good street food stalls, never imagining that one day she would be setting up her own stall.
He Zhao's food cart was something she had asked the system to set up haphazardly; she didn't have many requirements, just one: keep it as simple as possible so she could pack it up and leave at any time. She was also a little afraid that the city management officers would take the stall away at night.
Although the system said that there would be no problem if all the documents were complete, He Zhao didn't believe it.
Her own identity couldn't withstand scrutiny! Although the system issued her the ID, she knew all too well that she was an unregistered person from another world. If this were discovered, it would be disastrous.
On the first day, He Zhao set up her stall under the second street lamp at the park entrance, as required by the system. She set up the stall, turned on the light, and saw the sign above—"Late Night Street Vendor Stall."
Yes, that suits her little stall perfectly.
At first, He Zhao didn't think anyone would come to eat at her stall, after all—whose food stall only sells white rice?
He Zhao wasn't confident she could sell anything, so she sat behind her stall on a plastic stool, crossed her legs, and played on her phone. The first night, she stayed up until 2 a.m., exhausted, but still no one came. Just as she was about to tell the system, "See? How could anyone possibly come to this lousy place?", she saw someone actually walk up to her stall.
It was an elderly woman with gray hair. It was the dead of winter, and He Zhao, wearing a thick down jacket, was shivering from the cold, while the old woman was dressed in thin summer clothes. He Zhao's first thought was that the old woman was being mistreated by her children and grandchildren. Otherwise, why would she be dressed so lightly in the middle of winter and wandering around in the middle of the night?
Even He Zhao was finding it hard to withstand the temperature.
The weather forecast shows today's temperature to be between 0 and 12 degrees Celsius. This isn't actually that low, but in He Zhao's hometown, winter is practically nonexistent. This temperature is definitely freezing. Luckily, she's young and can handle it, but the old lady might not be so lucky; she's so thinly dressed, I hope she doesn't catch a cold.
Even if He Zhao thought that way, there was nothing she could do for the old woman; she was in dire straits herself.
The old woman remained silent, sitting down on one of the stools in front of He Zhao's stall, with a table set up from the food cart in front of her. Her first words were, "Hungry, hungry..."
He Zhao paused for a moment, then stood up and said to the old woman, "Grandma, I only sell white rice here, 10 yuan a bowl, no credit. Do you want some?" He Zhao was stunned when she first heard the price. What kind of white rice cost ten yuan? And her food cart didn't even have any side dishes—just plain white rice?
The system told her to ignore it and that this was the price.
He Zhao figured she wouldn't sell them anyway, so she went along with the system's suggestion. Now that she'd met a customer, she started talking without hesitation, showing no sign of being swayed. But the old woman seemed not to understand what He Zhao was saying, only repeatedly shouting "Hungry."
He Zhao was stunned. After looking at her suspiciously for a while, he complained to the system, "Does this old lady have some kind of dementia? Should I call the police? She can't just stand there in front of me."
[Serve the food.]
He Zhao pursed her lips, but after thinking for a moment, she decided to serve it first. The old lady looked cold and hungry; a bowl of white rice would warm her up. Five months of training in the system space had made He Zhao thoroughly familiar with how to serve rice. She opened the rice cooker, took out a bowl, and then used a rice scoop to scoop out a perfectly round bowl of rice.
The rice was steaming slightly, and its aroma was incredibly tempting. She reached for the chopsticks, and the muscle muscles she had developed in the system space activated here. With a snap, the tips of the chopsticks pierced straight into the rice bowl, instantly creating two holes in the round, white rice grains.
Holding a bowl of rice like this, He Zhao stood behind the food cart and delivered it to the old lady.
At that moment, He Zhao actually realized something: how could the chopsticks be placed like that? If his own mother were alive, she would definitely slap his hand hard with the chopsticks. But the old woman in front of him remained silent, only staring at the rice in front of her.
He Zhao touched his nose; as long as she didn't mind.
In many places, there is a taboo against sticking chopsticks upright into rice, because such rice is meant for the dead.
"Grandma, eat quickly, or it will get cold." It was so cold that a bowl of rice would freeze solid in just a few minutes if left on the drafty food cart. But Grandma suddenly shook her head and whispered, "Hot, hot."
It's strange, these days there are actually people who like to eat cold food in the dead of winter.
The old woman waited quite a while; the rice had stopped steaming and was clearly cold before she finally reached out, picked up her chopsticks, and began to eat slowly and deliberately. She ate with great concentration, her expression relaxed as she ate. Seeing this, He Zhao stopped paying attention to her and lowered his head to continue playing on his phone.
After an unknown amount of time, He Zhao stretched and looked up as if to ask the old woman if she wanted another bowl. But when he looked up, she was gone. Only a banknote remained under the white bowl.
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