After much persuasion, Zhao Shen finally declined Ding Zhenghui's request, to which she agreed to return the following day before taking her leave.
Time slipped away unnoticed as noon approached, and gradually, more patrons gathered at Zhao Shen's stall.
"What is this? It's glowing!"
At Zhao Shen's stall, an increasing number of people reveled in the culinary delights, while the radiant glow of the golden fried rice drew the attention of passersby.
"Boss Zhao, what is this fried rice made of? The flavor is simply outstanding!"
Regular customers eagerly jostled to make their purchases.
Of course, some complained about Zhao Shen's exorbitant prices, alleging that he was running a scam. A curious woman, fresh to the game, squeezed through the crowd only to be struck by the steep prices. She reacted as if her tail had been stepped on, exclaiming, "In this shabby stall, these prices? You'd think we were at a five-star hotel! Are you all filming a movie here?"
...
Zhao Shen stood silently, observing the disdainful expression on the woman's face as she scrutinized his stall. Ignorance is bliss, and he felt no need to waste his breath on her.
"It's not like that. Boss Zhao's culinary skill is worth every bit of the 333 gold coins, if not more," chimed in a regular customer, somewhat displeased by the woman's remarks.
"Are you a shill? Trying to fool me into sampling this so-called golden fried rice? Look at that color! It must be artificially dyed!" The woman adopted a cynical demeanor, eager to educate others.
"You..." The regular customer, a slender man in a suit, was no match for the obstinate woman. Even without his suit, he resembled a mere internet addict, and after a few exchanges, he was quickly bested.
As tensions began to flare, Zhao Shen interjected, "No one is forcing you to buy; if you don't want to, step aside. Others are waiting in line."
Realizing that he had no intent to deceive her, the woman begrudgingly walked away, still yearning for a taste but deterred by the prices.
Meanwhile, the onlookers continued their chatter, and a few well-off vendors joined the queue, eager to sample the famed dish.
...
"Boss? Do you have the Ice Silkworm Dumplings? I want a steamer!" A young man approached, sweating profusely, having rushed over without even waiting for the stall to fully open. The sweltering weather made the refreshing dumplings particularly appealing.
"Do you have Ice Silkworm Dumplings?" others chimed in.
Shaking his head, Zhao Shen uniformly replied, "I'm sorry, we don't have Ice Silkworm Dumplings today. However, do try the fried rice; it's quite delicious."
"Ah, I still haven't had the Ice Silkworm Dumplings. Young man, my old legs are about to give out," lamented an elderly gentleman, who had become a loyal fan after missing out the previous day. Today, he returned with his spouse.
"Well, I'll have a serving of golden fried rice then, to see how your 333 gold coin offering tastes." Although hesitant about the cost, he couldn't bear to let his wife leave empty-handed, so he ordered a portion of fried rice.
Slowly, the stall became surrounded by a throng of people, the golden glow creating a stunning spectacle in the marketplace.
...
After a busy and fulfilling day, only Zhao Shen remained, his figure hunched over as if he were the tragic hero of a heartfelt drama.
"78, 79, 80, 81..."
Don't misunderstand; Zhao Shen was merely counting his gold coins.
While he could easily view his earnings through the stall's records, he preferred this most tactile method, relishing the weight of the coins in his pocket until his hand ached.
Today, he sold 81 portions of golden fried rice and 27 servings of Dragon Spices, totaling 28,755 gold coins in sales. After deducting costs, he earned nearly 9,000 gold coins.
His heart raced, and he forced himself to close his eyes, diverting his gaze from the gold coins in his backpack. There had been a man who won five million and died from sheer excitement, and he feared becoming the next.
He had no aspirations to buy half of an English county or mimic that ambitious figure who whimsically declared a target of one hundred million.
He was merely a ninth-generation chef, ordinary and devoid of taste, and the journey ahead was long; he needed to remain humble.
...
He accessed his character status.
**Character: Zhao Shen**
**Gender:** Male
**Age:** 23
**Level:** 5
**Physical Fitness:** D (SSS, SS, S, A, B, C, D)
**Health Points:** 150
**Magic Points:** 150
**Physical Attack:** 35
**Magical Attack:** 0
**Physical Defense:** 15
**Magical Defense:** 15
**Movement Speed:** 1
**Critical Hit Rate:** 1%
**Satiation:** 100
**Prestige Value:** 17
**Culinary Talent:** Culinary Master (Highest Level)
...
After that, he clicked to exit. He had spent an entire week in the game, and his gaming pod was nearly empty, requiring a recharge.
The night passed without incident, and upon awakening the next morning, Zhao Shen rubbed his sleepy eyes and gazed at his gaming pod. He suddenly realized that it was more comfortable than his bed, perhaps because it had given him a new lease on life.
Pressing a black button on a panel above the pod, a card popped out.
His first stop was the bank. He slid the card, known as the Simulated Life Card, which functioned as an ID, driver's license, and UnionPay card, directly into an ATM.
A series of beeps echoed as the machine processed the transaction. When Zhao Shen glimpsed the balance, he was momentarily stunned. Though he had an inkling of the amount, the reality of it was overwhelming; it was genuine money, far more impactful than game coins.
The balance read 103,631.88. This represented the gold he had earned over these past days in the simulated life.
Exiting the bank, Zhao Shen unconsciously felt the wallet and card nestled in his pocket. As an ordinary person who had faced two decades of disappointment, earning ten thousand in a week was unfathomable.
Sitting in a luxurious private vehicle summoned via Uber, Zhao Shen instinctively pinched his face countless times to reassure himself that this was not a dream.
"Are you alright, young man? Are you sure you're not in need of a hospital?" The driver, an experienced hand, observed Zhao Shen's dazed demeanor and recognized it as akin to someone who had overdosed on excitement.
...
Adjusting his mindset, Zhao Shen reminded himself that this was merely the first ten thousand; many more would follow. Perhaps, in time, ten thousand would be as inconsequential as one thousand or even one hundred.
With this thought, he felt a wave of relief.
The journey was short, and in a cheerful mood, Zhao Shen extracted a red Mao Zedong note from his wallet and handed it to the driver, maintaining a low profile yet exuding style. With a touch of elegance, he remarked, "Thank you, my friend; no need for change."
The driver was left with a bewildered expression as the air conditioning swirled around him. There was a peculiar thrill in showing off in front of the wealthy.