Chapter 43: Unintentionally

“They’re clearly provoking us, testing where our bottom line is. If we really lose our cool, we’ll be at their mercy.”
The words were like a slap of cold water, waking Mo Ran from his daze. Even though he had spent three years in the Su family and had witnessed many a shady deal in the Su Corporation, he had never looked at things from this angle before. The anger in his chest dissipated at once. As for Mo Ya, she was still young and naive, her thoughts never venturing into such complexities.

“Mo Mama, what do you think he really wants?” Mo Ran ignored the sulking Mo Ya at his side and turned to Director Mo.

“I don’t know. The only thing that makes sense to us is profit. If he kicks us out, he doesn’t have to pay for all the renovations we’ve done to the orphanage buildings. So he’s playing this game—increasing the rent to push us out. That way, his reputation stays intact and he can rent the place again easily afterwards.” Director Mo massaged her brow, clearly guessing at best.

“We still have a week to think things over. Maybe there’s a turning point ahead,” Mo Ran shook his head. He couldn’t quite untangle all these schemes and felt a bit unsure.

“Xiaoran is right. Don’t dwell on this for now; work is more important. You two go get busy.” Sensing the gloom settling over the room, Director Mo dismissed them with a wave.

On the way back to his rental, Mo Ran’s mind was still on the orphanage’s predicament. But no matter how he turned it over, he couldn’t find a solution and could only sigh, pushing the problem to the back of his mind for now.

Once home, he checked the time and hurried to load the marinated lamb onto his cart, making sure to deliver it to Boss Wang right on schedule.

He had ninety catties of lamb in all, but didn’t deliver it all, keeping ten catties for himself. He planned to set up his barbecue stall at the usual spot near the university that evening, earning a bit of pocket money until, with time, his business grew enough for him to consider switching to wholesale.

After delivering eighty catties to Boss Wang’s shop, Mo Ran noticed a new look in the man’s eyes—one of fervor, almost as if he hadn’t seen a beautiful woman in years, making Mo Ran’s skin crawl.

“Boss Wang, just say what you want. I don’t like that look—it’s unsettling,” Mo Ran blurted out while collecting his payment, unable to meet Wang’s gaze.

“Haha, you’re too much, Boss Mo! And hey, just call me Brother Ming from now on—I’ll call you Aran. No need for formalities,” Wang Ming laughed, catching the joke immediately, then seized the chance to draw closer. “You’re my lucky star now! Yesterday, those ten catties of lamb—once they hit the grill, the old customers came running, the aroma drew in new faces, and business was booming!”

“Brother Ming, that’s the advantage of getting in early. With my lamb, you’ll be raking in money every day. Give it a few years and you’ll have no trouble buying a luxury apartment in Shanghai,” Mo Ran replied proudly.

“From your lips to heaven’s ears! Here, eighty catties—six thousand yuan. Make sure you got it,” Wang Ming said, pulling out his phone and transferring the payment without further ado.

“Thanks, Brother Ming. I promise, in a week, I’ll supply you in full.” With the money in hand, Mo Ran grew resolute. There was a gold mine before him, and it was agony not to dig it open as fast as he could.

“Good, good, that’s what I wanted to hear.” Wang Ming grinned, satisfied.

With the transaction done, Mo Ran rushed back to his place, skewered the remaining lamb, packed it in a foam box with frozen mineral water bottles, and set off for the evening market. After all the prepping, by the time he arrived at the familiar spot with his tricycle, it was already 7 PM.

Looking up, he saw a pack of scruffy university students eyeing him like hungry wolves. Their eager gazes made his skin crawl.

“Boss, we’ve been waiting forever!” As Mo Ran braked his trike, the students swarmed around him, the lead student pale and red-eyed—clearly fresh from an all-day stint at the internet café, typical for a weekend.

“Give me a moment, everyone. I’ll unload the goods and get started right away,” Mo Ran managed a smile, though it was forced—he was honestly unnerved. If Wang Ming’s gaze had unsettled him earlier, these students made him even more uneasy, their expressions full of longing and grudges.

“All right, boss, but if you don’t come through for us tonight, you’ll be the one out of luck!” the lead student joked slyly.

“Heh, stand aside, I’ll be quick.” Mo Ran replied with a grin, though he moved with practiced speed, unloading the grill, stoking the fruitwood charcoal, sprinkling on his special spice blend. The high heat vaporized the seasoning at once, sending up a rich, mouthwatering aroma. Adding the wood chips, the temperature soared, and Mo Ran set out ten skewers to begin.

Now that he’d made some money, Mo Ran had upgraded his setup. The bigger grill heated faster and could cook more at once, boosting his efficiency. Thanks to his meat slicer, the lamb chunks were smaller, so even though each skewer still held five pieces, ten catties of lamb now made three hundred skewers. This meant he could serve more customers and, accordingly, lowered the price from twenty per skewer to fifteen.

As the students savored the lamb and spread the word on their phones, more and more poured in, drawn by the aroma and the recommendations of friends. Mo Ran was soon swamped.

It wasn’t until around ten that night, after the last satisfied students finally dispersed, that Mo Ran slumped down on the curb. He planned to rest a while before cleaning up the mess and heading home.

Just then, two streetwise punks swaggered up to his stall.

“Boss, got any skewers left?” Maybe because of the university town’s tight security, the two loafers were surprisingly polite.

Mo Ran checked his foam box, intending to show them he was sold out, but to his surprise, when he opened the last container, he found ten skewers left at the very bottom, pressed under a once-frozen water bottle now swimming in meltwater.

“How many you got left?” one of the punks asked, spotting the skewers at once.

“Ten skewers.” Mo Ran replied. He wasn’t fond of their type, but business was business—no use picking your customers.

“We’ll take them all. How much?” The punk sounded flush with cash.

“One hundred and fifty yuan,” Mo Ran said, pulling out the last ten skewers and laying them on the grill.

“Are you crazy? We’ve only got two hundred left!” his companion protested, pained by the price.

“What’s to worry about? It’s just money. Once we fill up, we’ll go do a job—real money’s coming,” the first replied carelessly.

“Shh, keep it down,” the other hushed him, glancing nervously at Mo Ran as if afraid he’d overhear. But Mo Ran just focused on his grilling, head down, minding his own business—what did he care about other people’s affairs?

“How can you be so timid? We’re men of ambition, remember—big achievements require big risks,” the first chided, looking in disdain at his cautious companion.

The other said nothing. The first punk kept grumbling, and at first Mo Ran’s face remained impassive, but as he listened, his right hand suddenly twitched. The spice jar in his fingers slipped, and he accidentally sprinkled a little too much onto the skewers…