"Fine, we'll see." Wang Peng wasn't intimidated, nor was he intimidated verbally.
The Dong family's fried rice truck is gone.
"They sold sixty bowls, while we only sold thirty," Li Fang said, taking out her ledger and sighing.
"Let's think about it another way," Wang Peng laughed. "We make eighteen yuan on thirty bowls, but she doesn't make a penny on sixty bowls. Aren't you happy?"
"What's there to be happy about?" Li Fang said with a wry smile. "Even if she pays 180,000 yuan, it's none of our business. Pengdi, what do you suggest we do?"
"Don't worry, we'll talk about it tomorrow." Wang Peng patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, my business won't be ruined by them."
“You’re so smart, you’ll definitely come up with a solution,” Li Fang said. “You go to evening self-study, I’ll continue setting up the stall.”
Wang Peng returned to the classroom for evening self-study, but did not receive a single order until the end of the session.
After school, he went straight to the bottom of the teaching building to check the blackboards at the three stairwells.
His foreign trade advertisement is still there; many classmates must have seen it.
"Haste makes waste. Everyone needs time to adapt to the new food delivery business."
"However, high school students are more active in their thinking, and they probably won't be able to accept new things for very long."
With this in mind, Wang Peng strode confidently to the school gate.
"Sister Fang, how's business?"
"Not bad, I sold another twenty-two copies." Li Fang hurriedly took out the ledger. "But they were all bought by passersby, only two students."
"It's really good." Wang Peng finished looking at the ledger and handed it to her again. "Go home, I'll give you a surprise tomorrow at noon."
"What's the surprise? Did you receive a lot of orders?" Li Fang asked hurriedly.
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