Cheng Su had always been a person of action. No sooner had she thought about scouting the terrain near the train station than she arranged her work and went to scope out the area by herself.
The train station was located in the Qing City West District, a major transportation hub, and right next to the train station was Qing City’s bus terminal. Because of the high passenger turnover, nine out of ten shops and stalls around were food vendors, selling steamed buns, fried dough sticks, congee, noodles, meals, all kinds of eats were available.
Cheng Su planned to dine in each of the shops on the road between the train and bus stations, starting with a fried dough stick and soymilk shop. A large bowl of soymilk sold for five cents and a fried dough stick for ten cents each. There were also steamed buns, with meat-filled ones costing twenty cents and large plain buns for ten cents; the prices were quite fair.
She sat down and ordered soymilk and fried dough sticks. In those days, there wasn’t much adulteration, and the soymilk was thick and rich with the aroma of soybeans, while the fried dough sticks were big and crunchy. And this shop?
It covered just over ten square meters, with a small kitchen or something at the back, and even had stairs leading up to what seemed to be a loft. Inside, there were only four long tables and bench seats. The place was so packed it was unbelievable; sitting down meant back-to-back with another customer. The shop seemed to have some age to it, with an old decor, and the floorboards felt a bit grimy.
The items for sale were displayed at the entrance: a large vat full of soymilk, buns, corn all stored in big steamers, and fried dough sticks on a bamboo winnowing basket. Beside it, a middle-aged man wearing an apron was swiftly rolling out dough and pulling dough sticks before dropping them into an adjacent vat of hot oil for frying. A woman busily selling buns and taking money next to the man was presumably his wife.


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