The Self-Cultivation of a Reborn Massage Therapist

Chapter 201 Checkout
DouDou had a lot of opened snacks laid out in front of her.

In kindergarten, he had only seen these colorful packages in the hands of other children, but had never tasted them.

At that moment, he tore open all the snacks he had seen but never eaten, took a bite of each one, and then lost interest.

Next, all his attention was completely drawn to the tall, large cake.

He had never eaten this before, not even once in his memory.

The exquisite cake-cutting tool set was placed right next to her, but DouDou ignored the pretty, unlit candles still stuck in it.

He secretly glanced at his mother, Guoguo, not far away. Seeing that her attention was "not" on him, he decisively picked up the long plastic knife and stabbed her.

He painstakingly pulled off a large piece of cake, almost a quarter of the whole cake, and carefully placed it on his plate.

He had no intention of giving the gifts to his mother, even though the aunties had given him many gifts. In his little mind, the concept of "sharing" simply didn't exist.

Just as DouDou was about to dig in, a clear, slightly scrutinizing child's voice rang out.

"You're my adopted brother?"

DouDou looked up and saw a boy who was slightly older than her. She immediately looked at him warily and subconsciously used her little arm to gather the snacks in front of her towards her.

The person who came was Yangyang.

He held a beautifully packaged gift box in his hand. It contained an English learning interactive picture book that Zhao Xiaochui had specially prepared for him to give to Dou Dou as a gift.

"For you."

Yangyang handed over the box, his face expressionless.

DouDou's eyes were fixed on the cake. She took the gift without looking up, tossed it aside, mumbled a "thank you," and immediately buried her head in her huge cake, showing no interest whatsoever in opening it.

Yangyang looked at the gift that had been left aside, and then at DouDou's possessive behavior towards her food, a clear hint of unhappiness flashing in her eyes.

His godmother had told him that he would also get a piece of the cake.

Besides, he knew very well that everything at the party was paid for by Uncle Zhao's shop.

This new "younger brother" not only disrespected his gift, but also tried to eat the cake all by himself?

This is unbearable!

The little rascal Yangyang's patience ran out instantly.

He picked up the half-eaten cake from the table and, amidst everyone's unexpected gasps of surprise, precisely and firmly placed it on the table—

It was placed on DouDou's head.

"Snapped!"

The world is quiet.

DouDou, wearing a cream and fruit "hat," stood there blankly.

A few seconds later, a deafening cry, "Wah—," echoed throughout the hall.

The girls were initially taken aback, but then, seeing this comical scene, they burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Qian Tu was also stunned by this sudden situation, staring blankly at the child covered in cream, and then at Yangyang, who was standing with his hands on his hips and had a "I did nothing wrong" look on his face.

Zhao Xiaochui was also laughing heartily. He patted Qian Tu on the shoulder, his voice not loud, but exceptionally clear:
"Brother Qian, look, even a child understands this principle—if anyone tries to steal my cake without following the rules, I'll smear the whole cake on their face. Tell me, why shouldn't we dare to smear cake on that ugly donkey's face?"

This unexpected cake fight became the farcical finale of the welcome party.

Although Zhao Xiaochui had a lot to say to Guoguo, who had 'broken through', the time and place were not right, so he had no choice but to take the simple-minded girl back to the tenement building.

What followed was a wonderful night! ...

The next day, the dawn broke.

The thin mist at the intersection of Jinchan Road had not yet dissipated, and the cool air was filled with the aroma of soy milk and fried dough sticks from breakfast stalls.

At an inconspicuous wonton stall by the roadside, Zhao Xiaochui, Ma Jinfang, and two others were engrossed in eating their breakfast, but their gazes were invariably drawn to the shop diagonally opposite.

"Six fingers grow".

Just a few days ago, the storefront was blown up by Ma Jinfang and his two companions with a sack of "old stuff," leaving it covered in sewage and stinking. Now, it has been completely transformed.

A brand-new red carpet stretched from the entrance to the roadside, while two rows of tacky opening flower baskets vied for attention. Several young technicians in uniform were listlessly wiping the shiny glass doors, as if the disaster had never happened.

Just then, a small figure rushed over like a gust of wind, plopped down next to Zhao Xiaochui, grabbed a spoon, and forcefully stuffed a piping hot wonton into his mouth, mumbling boastfully, "Uncle! I secretly went in to check, and all their money tree leaves have turned yellow; they definitely won't survive! And those silly fish in the pond, they're all belly up too!"

Zhao Xiaochui was secretly pleased, but feigned helplessness on his face. He patted Yangyang's little head and praised him against his will, "Well done, Yangyang. You know how to cut off the source of the problem at such a young age!"

He recalled the parenting wisdom of a top-tier teacher—praise is a necessary means of educating unruly children, even if it's against one's will.

After dealing with the smaller one, Zhao Xiaochui turned to look at the larger one, raising an eyebrow:
"I'm taking Yangyang to kindergarten, what are you doing here?"

Ma Jinfang chuckled, revealing a set of white teeth, with a nouveau riche-like simplicity: "Master, the shop just gave me an eight thousand yuan settlement allowance. I'm burning with cash, so I have to come out and try what this paid breakfast tastes like!"

Zhao Xiaochui nodded. Ma Jinfang was the highest-ranking entry-level employee at Easy Slow Travel, so this treatment was well-deserved. He took a sip of soup and asked slowly, "Do you think I'll believe you? Isn't the buffet breakfast at the restaurant better than this?"

Ma Jinfang stiffened her neck and said matter-of-factly, "The restaurant opens late!"

Zhao Xiaochui's gaze slid to the bulging black plastic bag at her feet:
"Guess again whether I believe you or not."

Ma Jinfang chuckled foolishly again.

"what's that?"

Ma Jinfang never hid anything from Zhao Xiaochui. She looked around warily and, seeing that no one was paying attention, opened the package a crack.

A glaring dark green peeked out from the crack.

Zhao Xiaochui glanced at the technicians at the entrance of the Six-Fingered Clinic, all wearing the same color uniforms, and sighed deeply.

Looking at her like this, and then at Yangyang beside her who seemed to thrive on chaos and whose eyes were shining, Zhao Xiaochui felt the restlessness and mischievousness that belonged to a nineteen-year-old instantly overwhelm his reason.

"Forget it, I can't persuade you." He shook his head, then lowered his voice, a wide grin spreading across his face: "Clothes...do you have any for me?"

Ma Jinfang's eyes lit up, and she slapped her thigh: "Yes! I knew you were on the same page as me, Master!"

Who's on your side?

With a dark expression, Zhao Xiaochui and Ma Jinfang swiftly put on the green technician's uniform.

Zhao Xiaochui pulled the still-dazed Yangyang into his arms, exchanged a glance with Ma Jinfang, and suddenly stood up.

Behind the wonton stall, the owner, who had been dozing with his eyes half-closed and looked like an ordinary retired old man—Old Gu, a retired master chef from Tianfuhao who had once worked as a cook in Fatou—suddenly opened his eyes.

He watched as the two figures in the "Six-Fingered" uniforms, each carrying a child, took off running. He then shouted loudly at their retreating backs:
"Hey! You're six-fingered! Trying to dine and dash?!"

This shout successfully attracted the attention of everyone across the street.

The cleaning technicians looked up in astonishment and saw two "colleagues" wearing their own work uniforms sprinting away at top speed, carrying a baby and disappearing around the corner. The scene was quite bizarre.

Before they could react, the wonton stall owner leisurely wiped his hands, sauntered across the street, walked straight up to them, and confidently extended his hand:

"Three bowls of wontons and two tea eggs, that's thirty-eight in total. Where's your manager? Please settle the bill."

(End of this chapter)