When Wang Xiaoliang called Wang Keqin, Wang Keqin was packing up his stall.
"Dad, only sell grilled chicken wings tomorrow."
"What do you mean?"
"Three hundred skewers of chicken wings. Nothing else."
The other end of the line went silent.
A few seconds passed.
"Did you say three hundred skewers? Of chicken wings?"
"Right."
Wang Keqin tossed his rag onto the cutting board. He had watched Tang Heihu's video and scrolled through the lively comments. Two hundred skewers of chicken wings selling out in two hours-he believed that.
What he didn't believe was that his own stall could sell three hundred skewers of chicken wings in one night.
At ten yuan a skewer, chicken wings were the most expensive thing at his stall. Grilled wheat gluten cost two yuan, grilled chives two yuan, grilled tofu skin two yuan. What made his stall's business good? Besides the taste, there were the low prices. People at the night market wanted to satisfy their cravings for a little money. Chicken wings tasted good, but at ten yuan a skewer, sales certainly wouldn't be high.
But he didn't ask any more questions.
"All right."
"Also, write 'Tang Heihu Grilled Chicken Wings' with a brush and cover up the Old Wang Barbecue sign. This is really important."
The corner of Wang Keqin's mouth twitched.
Change the sign.
He had been running his stall for so long that quite a few people knew the Old Wang Barbecue sign. Being told to cover it up left him feeling somewhat stifled.
"All right."
He agreed anyway.
For no other reason than that his son had asked. He didn't want to disappoint his son. He knew that, a thousand miles away, his son was thinking of ways to help them.
Early the next morning, Wang Keqin went to the