The ex-wife of a former CEO regrets resigning to raise her child and retire from public life.

Chapter 22 Even the best wine needs a good location.

As the last few customers drawn into the shop by the aroma left, the hustle and bustle of the old street seemed to be silenced at that moment.

Time passed by unnoticed and it was already 10 a.m.

The shop, which used to be packed with people, was now empty, with only the lingering aroma of wheat in the air, a testament to the noisy steamed bun frenzy that had just taken place.

Chen Feng took off his apron, casually draped it over the back of the chair, and took out his phone from behind the counter.

Zhang Qiang also came over, and the two of them stared at the WeChat Pay payment interface.

"Six hundred and thirty-six."

Chen Feng read the number aloud, a slight smile involuntarily creeping onto his lips.

Based on a price of twelve yuan per serving, the amount of steamed buns given to Lin Xiaoyu and the others as a "treat" was not included in the bill.

At this moment, they had successfully sold fifty-three servings of bunny-shaped steamed buns in just two or three hours.

"Fifty-three portions, Fengzi!" Zhang Qiang slapped his thigh, jumping up from his chair in excitement. His previously exhausted body seemed to have been instantly injected with a powerful stimulant.

"We've already completed more than half of these 100 tasks this morning!"

"This is only the first day of business. If word gets out, what will happen?"

A surge of emotion welled up within Chen Feng.

He was very confident in his skills.

But he also understands that in this fast-paced era, doing business and being a chef are two completely different things.

In the restaurants in Beijing, he is the head chef, and his only responsibility is to make the food taste the best.

But here, he is the shop owner, and he has to face picky neighbors, an unfamiliar market, and the pressure of making a living from daily necessities.

Before this, he had been carrying a heavy burden in his heart.

They worried that the people in the old street wouldn't accept the price, and that this so-called "refined" style would seem out of place in the bustling alleyway.

And now, that stone has finally fallen to the ground.

Mengmeng sat to the side, not quite understanding what "six hundred and thirty-six" meant.

But seeing her father and godfather so happy, she also swung her little feet on the chair, her eyes crinkling with laughter.

However, this excitement was quickly replaced by a faint sense of unease as the streets gradually thinned out.

"Fengzi, you said... we still have five hours before closing time, and we need to sell forty-seven more servings to reach your target of one hundred servings."

Zhang Qiang glanced at the few hurried pedestrians passing by outside the door, and his brows furrowed involuntarily.

"The morning rush hour has just ended; those going to work have left, and those buying groceries have gone home."

"The key point is that it's almost noon."

These bunny-shaped steamed buns are delicious, but everyone needs a substantial lunch. Would someone looking for lunch really want to come in and buy a few?

Zhang Qiang's words hit a nerve in reality.

In the minds of the locals, steamed buns are a breakfast food or a snack for afternoon tea.

For a proper lunch, people prefer a bowl of hot noodles or a hearty rice bowl.

The previously excited atmosphere suddenly cooled down a bit.

Zhang Qiang remained silent for a while, then finally asked the question that had been nagging at him all morning:

"Fengzi, actually I've never understood this."

Since you have such good skills and enough ingredients, why do you only sell 100 servings a day?

And they even stipulated that each person could only buy one? If those people had wanted to buy more, wouldn't all one hundred have already been sold? They could have even sold more.

Zhang Qiang had absolute trust and support for Chen Feng, but he was also a very honest person.

In his view, when you're in business, why would you turn away the God of Wealth?

Upon hearing this, Chen Feng pulled up a chair and sat down, without rushing to answer.

He gently lifted Mengmeng onto his lap before raising his head.

"Qiangzi, I'm going back to the old street for Mengmeng. I want to spend more time with her."

In addition, I want to revitalize the brand left by the old man.

Chen Feng continued:

"Firstly, I used to work as a chef in Beijing, and the money I saved was enough for my daughter and me to cover our expenses for the next few years."

"I came back to restart 'Human Fireworks' not to make a lot of money."

"If I confine myself to the stove from morning till night for that little bit of revenue, what difference is there between me and someone living in Beijing?"

"So I only make one hundred servings a day."

I need to set aside enough time and energy to witness Mengmeng's every step of growth.

Money can never be earned enough, but a daughter only grows up once.

Chen Feng paused for a moment.

"Secondly, this has always been my goal: to recreate the splendor of 'human warmth' that my grandfather enjoyed more than 20 years ago."

"Back then, who in this area didn't know about Grandpa's craftsmanship?"

That was more than just a place to fill your stomach; it was a place where old neighbors could connect, share feelings, and feel warmth.

"I went to the capital to study, worked in the best restaurants, and learned the most advanced culinary and management skills."

There was only one goal—to bring back those modern, sophisticated ideas and integrate them into the foundation left by Grandpa.

Zhang Qiang listened intently, and his previously anxious heart calmed down.

"As for limiting each person to one, that's marketing, and also a form of protection," Chen Feng continued, a confident smirk playing on his lips.

"Even the best wine needs a good location. In this era of internet traffic, good things can't satisfy people's appetites all at once; they need to keep them hooked."

"I built my reputation not through quantity, but through this sense of scarcity that is 'desirable but unattainable'."

"I want everyone who has eaten it to feel like they want more, to be thinking about the taste of that juicy meat even as they walk down the street."

"Furthermore, I will change the main dish every day and only make that one dish each day."

This kind of gimmick allows us to maintain a sense of novelty and conversation in a slow-paced place like the old street.

"So you were playing a long game all along," Zhang Qiang exclaimed, his admiration for Chen Feng growing even stronger.

"However, I didn't expect to sell a hundred copies right away." Chen Feng changed the subject, his attitude appearing incredibly open-minded.

"To be honest, selling 53 copies so far today has far exceeded my expectations."

"The remaining forty-seven portions are best sold out, but if not, so be it."

"Doing business, especially business with a sense of sentiment, is a process of gradually building a reputation."

It's normal for things to not go smoothly at first; you can't rush it.

After hearing these words, Zhang Qiang's inner turmoil and depression vanished instantly.

He chuckled and picked up the rag again: "Sure!"

"Fengzi, you really understand life. Then I'll stay with you and cherish these remaining forty-seven destinies."

"Even if there's no one around at lunchtime, we can just chat and joke around here until afternoon tea time!"

Mengmeng waved her little fist and shouted in agreement, "Fate! Mengmeng is also waiting for fate!"

The atmosphere became relaxed and cheerful again.

Zhang Qiang and Chen Feng chatted casually about the neighbors who had just come to the store.

"Fengzi, did you notice Zhao Dafa in the work clothes just now?"

He's notoriously picky about food in the old town. When he yelled "Holy crap!", I almost thought he was going to tear the shop down.

"They were just overwhelmed by the smell," Chen Feng replied with a laugh.

"Actually, the old neighbors are very simple-minded. As long as the goods are good, they are willing to pay for them, even if the price is a little bit higher..."

Just as they were getting into a lively conversation, the half-closed door was gently pushed open.

The conversation abruptly ended, and everyone's gaze turned towards the doorway.

A figure walked in, bathed in the soft light.