Chapter Twenty: Steaming hot meat buns—freshly made, right out of the pot!

As the evening rush hour set in, the city's clamor surged like water in a steamer. For Chen Zhou, his business entered its busiest period of the day.

"Boss, three steamed buns. Look, the payment has gone through."
"Master, are there any more cucumbers? I'll serve myself."
"Haibin Rural Commercial Bank, 7.5 yuan received."
"Is the vinegar free?"

A cacophony of voices surrounded the food cart from all directions. The vendor stood in the center, handling the influx with composure. Once the two steamers of buns were sold out, Chen Zhou kept his hands busy while waiting for the next batch to steam, preparing new buns and setting them aside to rise.

At some point, a figure appeared by his side, helping to hold open bags and answering customer questions. Their coordination was so seamless that it wasn't until things quieted down that Chen Zhou realized his wife was standing next to him.

"Why are you out so early today?"

Lin Yifan replied, "Don't ask me. When I got off work, the line at your bun stand was incredibly long."

"I was so busy I didn't even notice you..." As Chen Zhou spoke to his wife, he suddenly felt something was missing. "Where is Taotao?!"

Ms. Lin calmly pointed toward the nearby security booth. "She's in there, enjoying the air conditioning."

Chen Zhou looked over and indeed saw his daughter. The little girl certainly knew how to find a comfortable spot. Watching her two little pigtails bobbing around, she seemed to be having quite a fun time with the security guard, young Liu.

Chen Zhou said to his wife, "Go call Taotao over; we're getting ready to close up."

"Alright."

Chen Zhou had a good day. After optimizing his stall management, his turnover had broken the 700-yuan mark, and he had accumulated nearly 100 "praise points." There were still a few buns left in the steamer, but he didn't intend to wait any longer.

It was the perfect time to work on his signboard. Considering that Uncle Yu, mentioned in the "Diner Dynamics" system, was an elderly man who might have poor eyesight, Chen Zhou had switched to a larger sign. He was rewriting the text now, using large characters that could be seen from fifty meters away. As for the megaphone that had arrived that afternoon, he had charged it up and was ready to test it out.

Chen Zhou pressed the record button and organized his thoughts: "Meat buns, hot meat buns, freshly handmade meat buns."

He tried a few times, but he wasn't satisfied. Hawking wares was a skill in itself—it was different from normal speech or reading aloud. The right cadence was difficult to master.

Just then, Ms. Lin arrived with their daughter. Chen Taotao saw the megaphone in Chen Zhou’s hand, a spark of excitement in her eyes. She pointed her little finger at it and said, "Teacher Li has one too, but she never lets us play with it."

For a long time to come, kindergarten and primary school teachers would likely have more influence over her than he did as a parent. Chen Zhou had been through that phase himself.

"Your Teacher Li is stingy," Chen Zhou laughed. "Come on, Daddy will let you have your fill of fun. Say it with me: 'Meat buns, hot meat buns, handmade by Daddy.'"

Chen Taotao mimicked her father, shouting, "Meat buns, hot meat buns, handmade by Daddy!"

Chen Zhou and Ms. Lin exchanged a smile. Lin Yifan took the megaphone and told her daughter, "You should say they were handmade by *yourself*."

Chen Taotao shook her little head, having her own ideas: "Mommy, that's just how I said it!"

Fine, fine... Taotao wasn't wrong. And so, the family of three took turns calling out in front of the cart: "Handmade by me," "Handmade by my husband," "Handmade by my daddy."

After some practice, the wording became more refined. When it was Chen Taotao's turn again, the little girl shouted, "Meat buuuns~ fresh out of the steeeaamer~ handmade~"

Surprisingly, the little girl's milky voice had a certain charm to it. Watching a child grow and discovering their unique talents was the most gratifying thing for a parent. Chen Zhou looked at his daughter with pride and couldn't help but praise her:

"A natural-born street vendor. That's my girl."

***

The next day, Chen Zhou continued his stall business, accumulating money and praise. Just then, Comrade Wang Meng arrived to satisfy his cravings.

"It feels like three autumns since we last met," Wang Meng said, gazing longingly at the buns.

Chen Zhou teased him, "I never knew you were such a sentimental person, Captain Wang."

"You flatter me, Master Chen." Wang Meng scanned the payment code. After picking up his phone, he noticed the additional condiments of black vinegar and chili oil nearby and asked, "How much for a box of chili oil if I scan for it?"

"It's free, same for every customer."

Wang Meng put his phone away again. "You're quite generous with your business, Master Chen."

Chen Zhou laughed, "Getting things for free makes me happy."

"That doesn't sound right; isn't that you being the one who gets 'freeloaded'?" Wang Meng was a bit slow to follow his logic.

Chen Zhou handed him a small bag of vinegar. "Look, this is sponsored by the Tianli Vinegar Factory for small vendors. I didn't spend a penny and got two large boxes."

"Wait, wait a second..." Wang Meng pulled out his phone, scrolled to a post on his social media feed, and then looked enlightened. "I was wondering why that looked so familiar! It was filmed right here at your place!"

"What are you talking about, Captain Wang?"

"Don't you check your social media feed?"

"You post eight times a day about 'Haibin News' and 'CCTV News'—who clicks on those!"

"Here," Wang Meng said helplessly, handing his phone to Chen Zhou. "Is this you?"

The article title read: *Centennial Vinegar Factory Supports Small and Micro-Businesses.*

Most of the accompanying photos featured the Tianli Vinegar Factory, but in the middle, one shot focused on a small bag of vinegar, with Chen Zhou's side profile vaguely visible in the background.

Chen Zhou nodded after looking at it. "That really is me."

Wang Meng looked around the bun stall and said, "You've done well for yourself; you're even on the news for selling buns."

"It didn't say the buns were bought here. Besides," Chen Zhou pointed to the mask on his chin, designed to prevent sweat and droplets, "I'm wearing a face shield; most people wouldn't recognize me."

Wang Meng patted his chest. "Don't you worry. Just film the video with me, and I guarantee I'll give you proper publicity."

Chen Zhou replied, "Captain Wang is starting to make empty promises."

"Hey, let's talk business," Wang Meng said, turning serious as he discussed the plans for tomorrow. "Originally, when the leadership assigned this micro-video project, I just planned to muddle through it. But after coming here to buy buns a few times, I realized this is a real treasure of a stall. It would be a shame not to make good use of it..."

"Since we're filming, I intend to do it properly and create something decent."

On this, Chen Zhou and he were in full agreement. That was exactly how he felt when he first started making buns: if you're going to do it, you do it right.

"Alright, it's settled. Tomorrow morning, we meet at the entrance of the vegetable market," Wang Meng said, waving goodbye.