By a little past nine, all the ingredients had been used up.
Song Shi'an looked at the few people still waiting in line, turned off the heat, and said apologetically, "I'm really sorry, but we've run out of ingredients today. Please come back next time."
Everyone who hadn't managed to buy anything let out a collective wail. One man had been holding up his phone with his payment code ready for ages, his expression like someone had snatched away a piece of braised pork he'd just picked up with his chopsticks. "Boss, what time are you coming tomorrow?"
Song Shi'an thought about it. He wasn't sure himself. If he had work, he definitely wouldn't be able to come.
He took out his phone and said, "Let's make a face-to-face group chat. I'll be sure to let you know whenever I open the stall."
They all scanned the code at once, and a little group of twenty was formed.
Song Shi'an pushed his cart back. As he passed the security booth, the older guard poked his head out and sniffed hard. "Young man, what have you been up to? That smells mighty good."
"I was just selling some snacks at the night market over there this evening," Song Shi'an said.
The guard gave him a thumbs-up. "Not bad! Just the smell tells me it's the real deal."
Back at the villa, he shoved the cart into the garage, walked into the living room, and collapsed straight onto the couch, both arms as limp as noodles.
He grabbed the remote and turned on the air conditioner. Cool air whooshed out, and he leaned back against the couch with his eyes closed, enjoying it for a good while before he finally felt alive again.
Only after he'd rested enough did he take out his phone to do the accounts. After deducting the cost of the ingredients and factoring in the fixed investment in the cart, stove, and such, he'd actually made a profit of over two hundred.
He still hadn't quite gotten the hang of things on his first day running the stall. Once he picked up speed, he'd only earn more.
Satisfied, he put down his phone and lowered his head to sniff himself. Good grief, he was practically a walking bowl of clam vermicelli.
He hurried upstairs to take a shower, letting out a comfortable sigh as the hot water poured down.
Water slid over his lean muscles and flowed down the contours of his shoulders and back. He tilted his head up to let it wash over his cheeks, the tear mole at the corner of his eye flickering in and out of sight through the mist.
After his shower, he dug a set of silk pajamas out of the wardrobe and put them on. The slippery fabric rested against his skin. It was certainly comfortable, but it felt a bit like wearing nothing at all, cool and breezy without much sense of security.
He looked down and tugged at the hem. This stuff wouldn't really slide off in the middle of the night, would it?
When Song Shi'an lay down on that enormous bed, his whole body sank into the mattress.
He turned over, then started rolling back and forth across it. My god, this was the most comfortable bed I'd slept in during my three months in this world!
Only after he'd rolled around to his heart's content did he grab his phone. A look showed that a hundred or so people had trickled into the newly created snack group.
He was bewildered. Why were there suddenly so many people? Only after scrolling through the earlier messages did he learn that a food blogger had posted a video that evening. Everyone who watched it went wild with cravings, and the group's QR code had been shared around.
The blogger was in the group too and generously sent a red packet. Song Shi'an's eyes were sharp and his fingers quick, and he snagged one. Eighty-eight yuan!
The group was buzzing when Zhu Tao posted, "Boss! You've finally shown up! My followers are clamoring for the address so they can come try it. They insist I was exaggerating for the camera!"
Song Shi'an considered his words, then typed, "I don't have a fixed schedule for opening the stall, but I'll definitely let everyone know in advance before I do."
Wenwen, who had just joined the group, saw the message and felt as though the sky had collapsed.
She'd originally planned to stake out the night market as soon as she got off work tomorrow and take another careful look to see whether the owner really was Song Shi'an. The more she watched that blogger's video just now, the more he looked like him.
But now the owner said he didn't have a fixed schedule. Where was she supposed to stake out?
Wails filled the group, reaction memes flying all over the screen.
Song Shi'an watched with delight. It seemed everyone really did appreciate his cooking.
He left the group chat and, out of habit, opened Weibo to scroll for a while.
The trending searches were either major national affairs or something that had happened to so-and-so in the entertainment industry. He read with relish.
Just as he was about to get ready for bed, a new WeChat message popped up. It was from Director Zheng.
"Xiao An, tomorrow's the first day of the short holiday. Help out with the premiere promotion for The Emperor's Ambition. It'll be a joint livestream."
Song Shi'an abruptly sat up. Seriously? What was a cannon-fodder supporting character like me doing joining in? Couldn't I just make a Weibo post to help promote it? Why a livestream too? Weren't promotional livestreams the leads' business?
He hurriedly replied, "Director Zheng, I'm just a supporting actor without many scenes. Wouldn't it be a bit inappropriate for me to take part in the promotion?"
The reply came almost instantly. "What's inappropriate about it? One actor has a scheduling conflict and can't make it because he's filming. You'll fill in at short notice."
Song Shi'an stared at the words "fill in," feeling that something was off, though he couldn't put his finger on it.
He could only reply, "All right. Do I need to prepare anything?"
Director Zheng said, "All you need is a phone. Spruce yourself up a little and just appear on camera as usual."
Song Shi'an replied, "Okay."
Over on set, Director Zheng saw the confirmation, set his phone on the table, and revealed an exceedingly satisfied smile.
Finally managed to reel this kid in. Back when we were filming, asking him to do a few extra scenes was like asking for his life. This livestream has finally given me an opportunity.
I'll have to make the publicity team really promote him during tomorrow's livestream. Hahaha!
Standing nearby, his assistant Xiao Zhou saw the look of a successful schemer on Director Zheng's face and instinctively took two steps back.
Oh no, oh no. Director Zheng has gone mad from filming. That smile is way too creepy.
Song Shi'an lay on his stomach on the bed and looked into what a joint promotional livestream actually was. The more he researched, the more hopeless he felt.
It was just several actors connected by video at the same time, chatting and interacting with the audience, talking about amusing stories from filming and such.
What amusing stories could a cannon-fodder character who died in episode seven possibly have?
Talk about how I got stabbed to death? Or what flavor that fake blood was?
After thinking it over, he sent Ji Shuyao a message. "Brother Yao, the show I filmed before, The Emperor's Ambition, is doing a joint promotional livestream tomorrow evening."
Ji Shuyao replied instantly, "You're involved too? The director asked you to join?"
"Yeah. He said one of the actors had a scheduling conflict and asked me to fill in."
Ji Shuyao fell silent for two seconds after reading the message.
An excuse like a scheduling conflict might fool an outsider, but the lineup for a promotional livestream was usually decided in advance. How could this possibly be a last-minute substitution?
Director Zheng was clearly determined to drag Song Shi'an into it. He replied, "A professional team will come over tomorrow to help you organize the livestream arrangements. Don't worry."
Song Shi'an read it. Woohoo, having someone backing me really was great. Nothing to worry about now.
He tossed his phone beside his pillow, rolled across the big bed once more, and comfortably closed his eyes.