"Boss Lu, over here! We've already saved you a spot!"
"I came here lying down, Boss Lu. Can you make mine first? It's a matter of life and death!"
"Can you come a little earlier? Our boss said starving to death doesn't count as a workplace injury!"
"Boss Lu, stop! Why would you need to set up the stall yourself? Leave this little thing to us!"
Lu Qin swiftly began stir-frying the rice noodles. The boxes of Mung Bean Paste and Ice Crystal Cake sat to one side, and customers could scan the code and take them themselves.
As the aroma of stir-fried noodles wafted out, several sallow, skinny customers took a deep breath, finally feeling alive again.
Morning customers came and went in a hurry. The adults had to go to work, while the children had to go to school.
Most of them left as soon as they bought their food, without lingering.
Still, even if they were going to be late for work or school, some customers insisted on lining up for a serving of stir-fried rice noodles.
It truly proved the saying: go one day without it, and your whole body would feel miserable.
After a huge wave of office workers and students left, the next customers were elderly men and women from the nearby residential communities.
They were all retired, and life moved at a slower pace for them.
Their breakfasts had always been the same—soy milk, fried dough sticks, buns, and rice porridge. They did not know what else to eat.
After Lu Qin's stir-fried noodle stall appeared, every one of them switched to stir-fried rice noodles.
They could no longer stomach any other breakfast.
Everything else tasted like chewing wax.
"Little Boss Lu, what is this? It doesn't look like a phone number."