Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 306 The Disadvantages of Fame

P.S.: Sorry
"Boss, boss, I only ate a little bit, meow."

"A basket of snacks is now only half full, and you call that a little bit?!" Ma Zhaodi said, shaking the silly cat back and forth with a look of exasperation. "Why have you degenerated into one of those cats that just eats rice for free so quickly?"

"I'm not full, meow."

"Can you say that again!"

"Boss, boss, you don't know meow, I used to come from Flamefire Village meow."

Seeing Ma Zhaodi pick up the large slippers from the corner, the silly cat immediately snapped out of its hunger.

"I eat dango every day: Mitarashi dango, red bean dango, soybean flour dango, edamame dango, and mugwort dango."

As it spoke, memories of Flamefire Village began to flood the silly cat's brain, and its two beady eyes started to dazzle, turning into a pair of constantly spinning dumplings: "Dumplings, morning, noon, and night, it's all dumplings, meow. I even dreamt of a big dumpling chasing me and biting meow. Dumplings are so scary, meow!"

Seeing the current state of the silly cat, Ma Zhaodi sighed helplessly. He knew that the specialty of Yanhuo Village was dumplings, but he did not expect that the silly cat had such a big psychological trauma about the dumplings.

"Where's your meat?" he asked. "Roasted meat, and rice balls too?"

"I can't eat anymore, meow. My stomach is already full after I'm stuffed with dumplings, meow."

"Why don't you just not eat the dumplings?"

"Fire Sprout Water Stream Sister will get angry, meow."

Upon hearing this, Ma Zhaodi suddenly smiled with relief.

Palico? Silly cat?

Pet cat!
Sigh, that silly cat has been spoiled rotten by women.

"You who lack the spirit of the Cat Hunter, hurry up and cook me two dishes!"

"Boss, I want to eat cat food made of mud, meow. Food made of mud is delicious, meow."

"Food made by cats is called cat food; food made for cats is just cat food."

Ma Zhaodi sighed and casually tossed the silly cat into the kitchen: "Go, you cook two dishes for me, and I'll cook two dishes for you. We'll each cook our own."

"The boss is a rich guy, meow!"

Afternoon, on the streets of the city center.

"Remember, you have to act convincingly later, understand?" Ma Zhaodi stopped the tricycle and instructed the foot of the vehicle, "I brought you out because you don't get enough exercise, but you can't let anyone notice anything unusual, otherwise you'll have to stay at home."

Before he could say a few more words, a man walked up to him from the roadside.

“Oh, Mr. Denton.” Ma Zhaodi looked up and smiled at him. “I haven’t seen you in town lately. I thought you had moved.”

Upon hearing Ma Zhaodi's greeting, Denton forced a smile in return, but to Ma Zhaodi, the smile didn't seem to convey happiness.

“Yes, that,” Denton asked, “do you still have those pastries from before? You know, the white ones, Elizabeth really liked them.”

"Ding Sheng Gao? The one we've been making lately is the red version—but it tastes just as good. Would you like to try some?"

"No, no, everything you sell is delicious, I'll buy a few more."

Noticing that Denton's condition and mood were not good, Ma Zhaodi asked again, "Where is your wife? Didn't she come out with you today?"

"She hasn't been feeling well lately, she's been sick. It's not convenient for her to go out, but she really misses the pastries she buys from you, saying they're delicious, so I came to the street to look for them for her."

After giving a brief reply, Denton seemed unwilling to discuss his wife further and changed the subject: "Is that your cat?" "Oh, you mean that?"

Ma Zhaodi stood up from the ground, holding a very fat Siamese cat, and rubbed its dark little face: "I just bought this cat recently. Because it seems quite smart, I take it out for walks while I'm doing business, which also helps it lose weight."

"clever?"

Denton looked down and saw a dark face, clear but stupid cross-eyed eyes, a heavy, bread-shaped body, and four short little hands that seemed to have nowhere to go. It was clear at a glance that he was the best of the best among silly cats.

The image is as follows (view it on the Qidian mobile app):

"Boss, boss, I don't think I'm fat, meow."

"Huh? What?"

Denton frowned. He thought he had just heard the cat whisper something, which made him wonder if he had been working too hard lately and was hallucinating.

"It's nothing, it's nothing." Ma Zhaodi immediately chuckled and tried to smooth things over: "The weather has been too hot lately, and the heat can easily cause hallucinations—um, the Ding Sheng Gao (a type of sweet rice cake) is all packed. Mr. Denton, is there anything else you'd like to buy?"

"No need, thank you."

Denton accepted the pastries from Ma Zhaodi, thanked him, and left.

As soon as the guest left, Ma Zhaodi turned to look at the silly cat at his feet.

"What did I just tell you? I told you to act convincingly and not give yourself away—why did you suddenly start talking?"

"Boss, I thought he couldn't hear meow."

"You're punished by having to go home and clean the house."

"Healing medicine, boss, I don't want to be a cleaner, meow."

"Nonsense, I didn't want to either."

An hour later, after seeing a few acquaintances and a bunch of passersby, the pastries on the tricycle were successfully cleared out. Ma Zhaodi was quite pleased with this—although the silly cat ate half a basket of pastries, from another perspective, at least he could stand in the sun for twenty minutes less.

How can this not be considered a luxury cat?

The only thing that puzzled him was that many passersby seemed to know about his tricycle and pastries. When buying pastries, they could even name a particular type of pastry and bought a lot of them—if it were just for one person, they would buy enough for at least three to five days.

"At this rate, this cart of snacks won't last an hour!"

Ma Zhaodi had just gotten on his three-wheeled vehicle, intending to go straight home, when he found two more people blocking his way.

“Sorry, friend.” He waved his hand. “I don’t take on apprentices. Uh, no, I mean, we’re sold out of traditional Chinese handmade desserts for today. If you want to buy some, please come earlier next time.”

"Fool." The burly man with a fierce face chuckled coldly. "We're not here to buy your pastries, we're here to take the money you make from selling them."

Ma Zhaodi was stunned for a moment. He hadn't been able to see the two people clearly because they were backlit, but now he realized that they were up to no good.

"Which gang are you from?" he asked. "You don't have any tattoos."

"Kid, you don't need a whole gang to rob you, two people are enough." The skinny man with cold eyes revealed a pistol at his waist: "We heard before that a food truck from out of town came to the city, selling... Chinese bread? They say it made a lot of money. A few thousand dollars a day, right?"

“It’s a traditional Chinese handmade dessert.” Ma Zhaodi corrected him seriously, “If you can’t remember the name, don’t just say it randomly, it makes you look unprofessional.”

"I don't care about any of that—hand over the money!"

(End of this chapter)