Chapter 766 The Beggar at the Door The autumn wind grew stronger and stronger, and these past few days, a beggar had been huddled at the shop door.
The man didn't look very old, but he had been badly worn down by life.
He was wrapped in a tattered cotton-padded jacket whose original color was no longer discernible, with clumps of cotton sticking out here and there, and it was shiny and covered with dirt.
Her hair was long and messy, like a crow's nest, with greasy strands hanging down, covering most of her face, revealing only her dry, chapped lips and a nose tip that was red from the cold.
Despite the freezing weather, he was wearing patched-up trousers and worn-out canvas shoes with holes in them, revealing his toes, which were purple from the cold.
The kind-hearted Aunt Yuan in the shop couldn't bear to see it, so she specially brought over the leftover food from the customers a couple of days ago. "Here, eat some while it's hot. This weather, even when it's windy and rainy, it never stops."
The beggar didn't thank him. He kept his head down, stretched out his black, chapped hand with dirt stuck in his fingernails, and almost snatched the food away. He squatted down by the wall and began to wolf it down.
Strangely, while swallowing her food, her eyes, hidden behind her disheveled hair, kept glancing restlessly into the shop.
His gaze swept over the diners, past the counter, and even lingered for a moment on the door leading to the small storeroom at the back, which was covered by a thick cotton curtain.
Once or twice, Aunt Yuan assumed that the dog was afraid of being chased away or was very hungry, and didn't take it to heart.
For three or four days in a row, this beggar would appear on time in the afternoon when there were few customers, take the leftovers, and still maintain his habit of looking around, his eyes making people feel uneasy.
That afternoon, the sky was overcast, as if it were about to snow.
There were hardly any people in the shop, and the beggar was huddled in his usual spot, hugging his arms and trembling.
Aunt Yuan carried the empty swill bucket from the kitchen and saw that he was slightly turned to the side, craning his neck to look into the shop. His posture did not seem like he was waiting for charity, but rather like he was confirming something.
Aunt Yuan's heart skipped a beat. She put down the bucket, wiped her hands with her apron, and walked over to Ma Hongxia, who was behind the counter working on the abacus to check accounts. She lowered her voice and gestured towards the door with her lip: "Hongxia, take a good look at that beggar by the door. I think... something's not right."
Ma Hongxia raised her head, adjusted her reading glasses on the bridge of her nose, and squinted as she looked over.
The beggar seemed to sense the gaze and quickly lowered his head, burying his face even deeper into his knees.
"What's wrong, Sister Yuan?" Ma Hongxia asked.
“Look at him, even when we give him food, his eyes are wandering around the shop. He doesn’t look like a proper beggar who just wants a meal. He seems more like he’s here to scout out the place.”
Upon hearing this, Ma Hongxia's expression turned serious. She put down the folded cloth in her hand and examined it carefully.
"It's a bit strange that he keeps begging for food. He doesn't go to warm, sheltered places, but insists on standing right in front of our shop, letting the cold wind blow on him... Sister Yuan, please keep a close eye on things these next few days. Also, talk to Chef Zhang and the others in the kitchen. Make sure to keep a close eye on the storeroom and the back door, and keep all the coal coupons and loose change safe."
For several days in a row, Ma Hongxia kept a close eye on the beggar at the door.
The figure huddled in the corner, as if rooted to the spot, refusing to budge no matter how the cold wind blew.
The more she looked, the more she felt a vague sense of familiarity with his drooping head and hunched shoulders, but his messy, tangled hair and grime-covered face completely obscured his features.
Feeling uneasy, she took advantage of a break after the lunch rush to pull Liu Dong to the back kitchen door and pointed towards him through the glass.
“You have good eyesight. Look closely. That beggar looks familiar to me, like I’ve seen him somewhere before.”
Liu Dong squinted and craned his neck to look for a long time.
The beggar was munching on the half-eaten steamed bun that Aunt Yuan had just given him, his hair hanging down, completely obscuring his face.
Liu Dong shook his head and clicked his tongue, "This is so bad it's unrecognizable. The hair is longer than a woman's, and the face is covered in smears like the bottom of a pot. What can you possibly see?"
He rubbed his chin. "Maybe he's one of those vagrants I saw at some construction site before? Don't overthink it. Let Sister Yuan and the others keep a close eye on him."
Two or three days later, Lu Qingyang came to the store to reconcile the accounts.
As soon as he pushed his bicycle to the door, the huddled beggar, as usual, instinctively lowered his head even further.
Lu Qingyang locked the car, his gaze inadvertently sweeping over the beggar, and he paused for a moment.
Instead of immediately entering the store, he stood there, his brows slightly furrowed, carefully examining the figure huddled up in a ball.
Lu Qingyang recognized the person almost immediately.
But she only paused slightly before walking straight into the shop and sitting down at a square table near the door, where she could catch a glimpse of the huddled figure in the corner through the glass window.
"Master Chen, please make me a bowl of noodles with soybean paste. Stretch the noodles a bit wider, add more sauce, and two cloves of garlic."
"Okay!" Chef Chen's loud reply came from the kitchen.
A short while later, a steaming bowl of jajangmyeon (noodles with soybean paste) was served.
The dark brown soy sauce glistened on every strand of wide noodles, while finely shredded cucumber and blanched bean sprouts were arranged on the side, along with two cloves of purple garlic.
The rich aroma of soy sauce and noodles immediately filled the air, making it incredibly tempting in this cold weather.
Lu Qingyang picked up his chopsticks and slowly stirred the noodles, ensuring each strand was evenly coated with the sauce.
She seemed very focused on eating, but out of the corner of her eye, she kept glancing at the window.
At first, the beggar just shrank back and buried his head in his arms, as if trying to shut out the annoying fragrance.
But the aroma is everywhere, especially when you're starving.
After a moment, the head covered in messy hair moved slightly.
Lu Qingyang picked up a piece of noodles with his chopsticks, blew on it, and then put it into the bowl.
Now we've completely confirmed who that person is, but that kid deserves to be taught a lesson.
He did not tell Ma Hongxia and Liu Dong about his discovery.
Over the next few days, whenever he had free time, he would come to Xinweiju and sit in his usual spot by the window, ordering different kinds of food.
On the second day, I ordered pork and cabbage dumplings.
Those dumplings were Chef Chen's specialty; the wrappers were thin and the fillings were generous, and each one lay plump and chubby like a precious treasure on the plate.
Lu Qingyang specially asked the kitchen to fry it in a frying pan, and the bottom was baked with a layer of golden crispy crust. When it was served, it was still sizzling with oil.
I picked one up, gently bit into it, and the rich aroma of the piping hot broth and pork immediately wafted out, mingling with the smoky fragrance of frying, drifting precisely out the window on the breeze.
The huddled figure visibly stiffened, and his Adam's apple bobbed violently.
On the third day, I ate a bowl of mutton stew noodles.
Thick, chewy hand-pulled noodles are soaked in a milky white, bubbling broth, while large chunks of mutton are stewed until tender, and topped with bright green cilantro and garlic sprouts.
Lu Qingyang held the large, rough porcelain bowl, drank a mouthful of soup, and exhaled a cloud of hot, white steam. The aroma of mutton, with its savory and slightly gamey scent, filled the air.
The beggar in the ditch lowered his head even further.
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