Chapter 26: An Evening with a Turnover of 2000

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At the University City in Shanghai, completely unaware of the upheaval in the Su Group, Mo Ran was about to embark on his first ever experience as a street vendor.

It was just before six in the evening when Mo Ran rode over on Uncle Xiao Xiao’s three-wheeled cart, bringing along his tools and supplies to the spot he had picked earlier.

This location, about a five-minute walk from the university's main snack street, had a distinct advantage: right next door stood a bar. But not the kind frequented by all sorts of dubious characters—any bar allowed to operate within the university city boundaries was subject to strict security and order. No one dared stir up trouble here; after all, university towns were always under special attention. This was the main reason Mo Ran had chosen this spot.

He unloaded his supplies from the cart. The charcoal had already been lit at home; after fanning it for a while, waiting for it to glow red and radiate heat, Mo Ran followed Uncle Xiao Xiao’s example and tossed a chunk of mutton fat onto the coals. Instantly, a rich aroma wafted through the air.

He then grabbed a handful of spices—another trick he’d learned from Uncle Xiao Xiao—and threw them into the fire, sending a mouthwatering fragrance drifting with the breeze. Before long, people walking down the bar street caught the scent and began to gravitate toward its source.

“It really works,” Mo Ran thought with relief as he watched people following the trail of aroma. The arrival of customers meant this tactic had paid off.

A small group soon rounded the corner, finding Mo Ran at his grill and his modest stall. Earlier, Mo Ran had hauled over two cases of beer from a nearby grocery: some bottles were chilling in a foam cooler packed with ice, the rest sat out in the open.

In another foam box, rows of marinated skewers were neatly arranged, surrounded by frozen mineral water bottles, which slowly melted and gave off a cool mist, keeping the meat fresh. Combined with the late autumn chill, he was confident the skewers would stay fresh for hours.

By now, several people had gathered around, both men and women, all watching the roasting skewers with eager anticipation. The scent grew even more tempting as the fat dripped onto the fruitwood coals, sizzling and sending up wisps of fragrant smoke that set their appetites ablaze.

At this hour, many hadn’t yet eaten. Originally, they’d intended to while away the evening at the bar, grabbing a bite to eat on the side, but this unexpected aroma had changed their minds—tonight, grilled skewers took precedence over fun.

Soon, the earliest arrivals—a young couple—received five skewers and handed Mo Ran a crisp, red hundred-yuan bill. In the flickering light of the coals, it looked bright and new, though creased from being carried around for some time, now finally put to use.

At twenty yuan per skewer, these lamb kebabs were generous in portion and exquisite in flavor—well worth the price, though not something most students would splurge on lightly. This, too, was a key reason Mo Ran had chosen this particular spot.

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At that moment, every eye was fixed on those five sizzling skewers, the irresistible aroma making everyone unconsciously swallow hard.

The couple wasted no time. After blowing on the skewers, the boy promptly offered one to the girl—never missing a chance for a sweet gesture. The girl, mindful of her image, took a dainty bite.

But in the next instant, her eyes widened in astonishment, sparkling with delight. All pretense forgotten, she devoured the remaining pieces of lamb in quick succession.

She considered herself a connoisseur of grilled skewers, yet she had never tasted anything so delicious. A sense of satisfaction spread through her entire body, as if every pore and hair follicle tingled with pleasure. Ignoring the heat, she alternated between blowing and devouring, unable to stop. The boy, seeing her reaction, quickly joined in, and the two lost themselves in the feast.

No need for further questions—the couple’s reaction said it all. This was clearly the real deal: flavor, aroma, and appearance all in perfect harmony.

The crowd began placing orders in earnest, jostling to ensure they wouldn’t miss out. The fear of missing the lamb skewers was palpable.

The sound of payment notifications chimed repeatedly from Mo Ran’s phone, making his heart race with excitement as he worked even faster and more deftly.

“Hey everyone, could I ask a small favor? Help me out by posting about my stall on social media—Douyin, Moments, wherever you like. It’s a bit off the beaten path here, and lots of people still don’t know about it,” Mo Ran said, seizing the moment.

The students, finding the request trivial, agreed enthusiastically. Some recorded videos, others went live, and still more snapped photos to recommend the stall to their dormmates. All the while, they continued devouring skewers and spreading the word.

The student community was tight-knit but far from closed—friends brought friends, classmates brought classmates. Soon, people began asking: Is the barbecue really that good?

Thus, as they ate, the early customers fielded questions, busy replying with animated assurances. Before long, more people arrived, drawn by their glowing recommendations.

Within two hours, every skewer Mo Ran had brought was gone. Unlike typical street customers, university students were there for the food itself—they scarcely drank beer, so the two cases he’d brought sold out just right.

Those who arrived too late could only watch their friends enjoy the feast, casting disgruntled glances at Mo Ran.

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“Boss, couldn’t you have brought more?” someone complained.

“Seriously, I skipped dinner just for your lamb skewers,” another chimed in.

“Will you be here again tomorrow?”

“Let’s add you on WeChat, so we don’t lose track of you.”

“Yes, yes, add WeChat right now!” voices echoed.

The students chatted eagerly, especially those who’d eaten but still craved more. They quickly pulled out their phones to add Mo Ran on WeChat, extracting promises to meet again at six the following evening, right here.

It took Mo Ran another stretch of time to see everyone off.

Staring at the now-empty foam boxes—some of the mineral water bottles inside still not fully thawed, the ice and water mingling—he wiped the sweat from his brow and made a silent resolution.

“It seems I’ll need a bigger grill tomorrow. This one’s just too small.”

After packing up, Mo Ran took out his phone to tally the day’s earnings: all 100 lamb skewers sold, with a total revenue of 2,000 yuan. Subtracting the cost of lamb and other ingredients, today’s profit was a neat 1,000 yuan. At this rate, who needed odd jobs? As for labor, he simply ignored it—working for himself, profit was revenue minus cost.

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