Chapter 159 The Father-in-Law's Secret Joy and Waiting

Jiang Jianguo sat on the thick, solid wood bench, finally free from lying on the cold ground.

He slowly straightened up and reached out to pat the dust off the hem of his worn-out overcoat.

Although two murky tears that he had just forced out still lingered on his face, his posture was noticeably more upright.

The old fox glanced at the kitchen out of the corner of his eye, and only after confirming that Lin Mo had gone inside did he finally relax completely.

Jiang Jianguo pulled down the collar of his coat to dry off the sweat he had been holding back during the performance.

Then, quite naturally, he crossed his right leg over his left.

On this simple bench, he arrogantly crossed his legs.

Those old cloth shoes, covered in mud, swayed in mid-air, exuding an undisguised sense of pride.

He smacked his dry lips, realizing that his tearful wailing earlier had indeed strained his voice.

Jiang Jianguo's gaze shifted and he fixed his eyes on Zhou Yang, who was sitting behind the cashier, staring blankly at a calligraphy brush.

In his eyes, this was just a poor, penniless old man who had been tricked by Lin Mo into working for free and doing accounting.

"Cough cough."

Jiang Jianguo cleared his throat, deliberately adopting the air of an elder ordering around a junior.

"How can that old man doing the accounting have such poor eyesight?"

He stretched out his withered fingers and tapped the table in front of him, making a dull thud.

"Didn't you see how hoarse I was crying? Hurry up and get me a cup of hot water!"

"In business, the customer is king. Don't you understand the rules?"

These few words, though spoken softly, sounded particularly jarring in the courtyard.

Behind the cashier.

Zhou Yang, who was still savoring the charm of Lin Mo's slender gold calligraphy, suddenly paused in his grip on the brush.

This esteemed master of traditional Chinese painting, whose paintings can fetch astronomical prices at Sotheby's, is the honorary president of the National Academy of Painting.

At this moment, he was being treated like a waiter by an old man in a tattered military coat who reeked of mothballs.

Zhou Yang slowly turned his head, his eyes behind his reading glasses filled with absurdity.

He has lived most of his life, and wherever he goes, he is always surrounded by people who respectfully call him "Old Zhou".

Today, things have gotten even worse. Not only am I working as a cashier in this little restaurant without any pay, but I'm also doing it now.

And yet, they have to be bossed around by a homeless man who can't even afford to eat.

Zhou Yang gritted his teeth and took a deep breath of the cold autumn air.

If it weren't for wanting to stay here and watch Lin Mo write, he would have already smashed the paperweight in the old man's face.

He rolled his eyes, too lazy to pay any attention to this unreasonable guy.

With the hand holding the calligraphy brush, Zhou Yang casually pointed to a stainless steel insulated bucket in the corner.

"The water's over there, don't you have legs?"

"Drink it or don't, it's up to you. This is the cashier, not a tea room for serving rich people."

Instead of getting angry at being rebuffed by a cashier, Jiang Jianguo gave a cold laugh.

The staff at this shabby shop are really unprofessional.

If the upper beam is crooked, the lower beam will be crooked too. That boss named Lin Mo is unruly, and naturally, his subordinates are the same way.

Jiang Jianguo stood up, slowly walked to the corner of the wall, and took a disposable paper cup from the disinfection cabinet.

I filled myself a full cup with boiling hot water.

He sat back down on the bench with the paper cup in his hand, warming it with his hands, behaving like an old man.

Warm steam rose up, blurring the lenses of his reading glasses.

Jiang Jianguo sipped his hot water slowly, seemingly waiting quietly for his meal.

In reality, his brain, that of a business tycoon, was already running at high speed.

He frantically drafted in his mind how to thoroughly and without any blind spots insult this "crab stuffed orange".

As the richest man in Beijing, what top-quality food hasn't he eaten?

He had the privilege of tasting the authentic Southern Song Dynasty-style crab-stuffed orange at a high-class state banquet a few years ago.

He still remembers the taste and the complicated process clearly.

Jiang Jianguo mentally prepared a detailed "fault list" to launch a devastating attack.

First, choose oranges.

It must be a ripe, yellow, double-stemmed orange with thin skin and thick flesh. If it is even slightly green, the bitterness will ruin the entire dish.

Second, knife skills.

When scooping out the flesh of an orange, even if you scratch the inner wall by just one millimeter...

Orange peels will crack and leak juice when steamed at high temperatures, making them unappealing and resulting in zero points.

Third, the cooking time and removing the fishy smell.

This kid doesn't even have any live crabs on hand in his shop. What if he dares to try and fool me with frozen, dead crab meat?

That rancid seafood smell could make anyone vomit up their leftovers.

If anything Lin Mo presents has even the slightest flaw in any of the above steps...

Jiang Jianguo would then ruthlessly overturn the table and leave.

Then, using all his business resources, he completely nailed this shady restaurant, which was a sham, to the pillar of shame in the catering industry.

You're always so arrogant, this time I'm going to skin you alive!

Thinking of this, Jiang Jianguo couldn't help but lick his dry lips.

He's even getting impatient now.

We're just waiting for that arrogant brat Lin Mo to come up with some kind of bizarre, incongruous mess.

Then she unleashed her full power, blasting him until he questioned his existence.

"Trying to fight me? You're still a hundred years too green."

Jiang Jianguo snorted inwardly, took a big gulp of hot water, and felt refreshed all over.

Even the smoky, everyday smells that he used to find offensive now didn't seem so pungent anymore.

at the same time.

Inside the kitchen, separated by a curtain.

Lin Mo stood in front of the spacious and bright control panel, his gaze sweeping over the equipment around him.

He kept the kitchen very organized, with knives of all sizes neatly stacked on the shelves.

He walked to the double-door refrigerator and reached out to open the door of the crisper compartment.

Inside were some ordinary ingredients left over from today.

A few small bok choys with water droplets, two pieces of tender white tofu, and half a piece of unused black pork.

Lin Mo carefully searched the transparent grid.

Indeed, just as he said, not even a single crab leg could be found.

Although it is late autumn now, which is the best time to eat crabs, he finds it too troublesome to process them, so he didn't buy any seafood today.

As for the oranges, there wasn't even a hint of yellow.

Without the main ingredient, this ancient dish from the Southern Song Dynasty naturally cannot be made.

Lin Mo wasn't flustered at all; he simply closed the heavy refrigerator door with a soft thud.

He turned and walked to the sink, turned on the tap, and let the cool tap water wash his hands.

The water was flowing and making a gurgling sound.

Lin Mo's handsome face always maintained its usual calm and indifference.

Since I've already agreed to that poor old man's request out of kindness, I should try to get some ingredients.

Anyway, the seafood market outside the alley is still open, it's just a short walk, so I might as well take a stroll after dinner.

Lin Mo turned off the tap, grabbed a kitchen paper towel, and slowly dried his hands.

He lifted the blue windproof curtain and walked out of the kitchen.

The diners in the courtyard had already eaten their fill, but none of them seemed inclined to pay their bills and leave.

Everyone tacitly remained seated, lowering their voices and whispering amongst themselves.

"Do you think Boss Lin can really make that crab-stuffed orange?"

"I doubt it. That's something from ancient books, and he just said he's out of ingredients."

"What if it actually turns out right? Wouldn't we be witnessing a culinary miracle today?"

The diners craned their necks, their curious eyes shifting back and forth between the kitchen doorway and the poor old man.

The atmosphere in the courtyard became calm before a storm.

Everyone's anticipation was heightened, and they even unconsciously lowered their breathing.

Lin Mo ignored the onlookers' gazes.

He walked straight to the solid wood counter at the front desk and tapped the tabletop lightly twice with his slender fingers.

"Knock knock".

Zhou Yang, who was sulking with his head down, looked up when he heard the noise.

Lin Mo looked at him and gave a few words of explanation in a calm tone.

"Mr. Zhou, could you please watch the shop for a while?"

Lin Mo pointed to Jiang Jianguo sitting on the bench, his voice neither too loud nor too soft, just loud enough for the people around him to hear.

"Keep an eye on that old man, don't let him wander off."

"There are thresholds and steps in the courtyard. He just finished crying and his legs are weak. If he falls and gets seriously injured, our shabby shop will have to pay for his medical expenses."

Upon hearing this, Zhou Yang was taken aback.

Immediately, the old painter's lips twitched twice, and he almost burst out laughing on the spot.

Boss Lin's mouth sounds gentle and relaxed, but it's actually quite sharp.

This is treating that old man as a dangerous individual who might suddenly start a staged accident to extort money.

Zhou Yang suppressed a laugh and nodded in perfect compliance, putting on a dutiful and responsible demeanor.

"Don't worry, boss. I'll keep a close eye on him and make sure he doesn't even get off this bench."

Sitting on the bench, Jiang Jianguo naturally heard every word of Lin Mo's instructions.

His fingers holding the paper cup suddenly froze, and the hot water inside almost spilled out.

His face instantly turned bright red, and he was so angry that his white beard almost stood on end.

What does it mean when your legs feel weak after crying?

What does it mean to fall and get seriously injured, and end up paying for medical expenses?

This brat actually mistook him, the richest man in China, for some lowly old scoundrel trying to extort money!

Jiang Jianguo gritted his teeth and silently made a deep grudge against Lin Mo.

Keep being stubborn!

Let's see what face you have left to pretend to be a master when you can't even produce any dishes later!

Jiang Jianguo stared intently at Lin Mo's tall and straight back.

A cold, confident smile slowly crept onto his lips.

He wanted to see what kind of amazing tricks this kid could pull off without crabs and oranges.

The autumn wind is getting colder, and the lanterns around the courtyard emit a warm yellow glow.

The entire courtyard is enveloped in a gentle, warm atmosphere of everyday life.

Lin Mo stood by the counter and slowly reached out to untie the light gray apron tied around her waist.

He neatly folded the apron and placed it flat on the chair.

Then he turned around and took a clean net bag from the shelf under the counter.

But when Lin Mo casually held it, it exuded a unique sense of composure and relaxation.

He turned around, his deep gaze piercing through the courtyard and landing on Jiang Jianguo.

Lin Mo's tone remained as indifferent as ever, as if he were merely stating a trivial matter.

"I'll let you off the hook because you're crying so hard."

Lin Mo wiped his hands, took off his apron, and picked up a clean net bag.

"I'm going to the seafood market to buy two crabs."

After saying that, he pushed open the gate of the courtyard house and walked out.