Spring Breeze Twenty Years

Chapter 1179 Pan-fried Buns

Zhang Fu said, "Why don't you go and ask? You're still thinking of registering the Beijing Hotel here?"

The old lady continued, "He said he would reimburse our travel and accommodation expenses, but didn't we stay at the Beijing Hotel too?"

Xiao Huang stopped a taxi, and four people got in. "Wu Palace Hotel."

Actually, the bus stop was right next to the square. It ran from the train station to Fujian Middle Road, and there was a stop next to Wugong. But all four of them were completely clueless and no one knew where it was.

In this era, the night scene of Shanghai was dazzling, with all kinds of colorful lights, a wide variety of shops, legendary bars, cafes full of foreigners, and fragrant pan-fried buns, all of which kept the "country bumpkins" from all over the country busy.

Pudong had already begun to develop, but in the eyes of the people in Puxi, it was still the countryside, let alone those from other provinces.

Check into a hotel, eat, sleep.

Zhang Fu didn't know what time he fell asleep, but he still woke up as soon as it was light in the morning.

After washing up with excitement and anticipation, Zhang Fu checked the time; there were still three hours until the investment promotion conference.

He wandered around the room a few times, but had nothing to do. He thought about waking his mother up, but then hesitated. He opened the window, leaned on the windowsill, and looked outside, imagining his future. Suddenly, a sense of pride rose in his chest, and even the hundred-meter-tall building across the street seemed ordinary to him.

"Bang, bang bang bang. Little Fu, Little Fu?"

Zhang Fu was startled awake by the old woman's knocking on the door, only then realizing that he had unknowingly fallen asleep by the windowsill. He swallowed hard and ran over to open the door.

"Are you up or still awake? Or are you asleep?" Aunt Ji asked, watching Zhang Fu run into the bathroom to wash his face.

"I got up early, but I was still half asleep," Zhang Fu said, a little embarrassed.

"Hurry up and wash, then go downstairs for dinner. Come back up just in time after you finish eating. I just checked and there's no one here. It doesn't seem as lively as you described." Aunt Ji was a little worried.

Zhang Fu said, "We definitely need to have enough people. Just you wait and see."

The old woman said, "Then why haven't we seen a single one all morning?"

Zhang Fu said, "Why not stay here? It's so expensive for one night, how many people can afford it? It's perfectly normal."

The old woman shook her head: "If someone can't even bear to stay one night here, what kind of person can they be? Open a small shop? According to what you said, to open a whole province, you have to pay franchise fees, stock up on goods, and do promotions. Do you think you can do it without hundreds of thousands of yuan?"

Zhang Fu said, "Does everyone have to stay at the same hotel as you? There's more than one hotel here; they can stay anywhere."

The old lady continued, "If the meeting is held here, who would deliberately go to the trouble of staying somewhere else? If it's such a great project, such a big deal, wouldn't all the attendees be big bosses? Anyway, I have a feeling I'm not very confident."

Zhang Fu said, "Why do you insist on coming early when people are only arriving today? Does coming here mean you can't have anything else to do? There's no need for so much trouble. You're really something else all day long."

The mother and son bickered for a while. Zhang Fu wiped his face and they came out of the room together, joined Xiao Lao and Xiao Huang, and went outside to find something to eat.

This is the old city; the streets are narrow, and the houses are dilapidated. It doesn't feel like it's in the same city as Nanjing Road, which is just a stone's throw away. The roadside is lined with illegally built two- or three-story buildings, with tangled electrical wires, peeling paint, and old doors and windows.

The entire street-facing side has been converted into shops, making a mess of things. The signs are all different sizes and shapes, and the whole street gives people a chaotic and dirty feeling.

Bamboo poles were draped over people's heads, with blankets, clothes, and sheets hanging out to dry. There were many people, all hurrying along, while vehicles slowly drove by, honking their horns. There were many bicycles, squeezed together with pedestrians, and the noisy chatter was incomprehensible.

There are many breakfast shops, with crowds crowding the windows to buy things like braised pork buns and pan-fried buns. People buy a few and eat them as they walk, the aroma mingling with the steam wafting through the streets. Between the shops are narrow alleyways, dark and gloomy, where ordinary local homes are located.

After looking around and seemingly unaccustomed to the surroundings, the old lady said, "How about we just have these steamed buns?"

Zhang Fu nodded: "Whatever, eat whatever you want."

The group walked to a pan-fried dumpling shop at a street intersection.

This shop is the largest in sight, and it has tables and chairs for dine-in.

The tables and chairs inside were arranged in rows like in an elementary school classroom, with aisles on both sides leading to the back. There weren't many people eating in the restaurant.

The four of them randomly found a table that looked clean and sat down. After waiting for a while, no one came to serve them. Xiao Huang grabbed a passing employee and said, "Let's eat."

The woman looked at the four of them with disdain, then raised her hand and gestured: "Pay for tickets." Her accent was thick, but still understandable.

It turns out that this place is similar to the state-run restaurants in Northeast China in the past. The waiters do not serve you; you have to pay for your own food and bring it to your table yourself.

Xiao Huang got up, bought four baskets of pan-fried dumplings and four bowls of wontons, and then went to wait at the frying pan on the street side. The frying pan was a separate room with two windows, one facing the street and the other inside the shop. There was a queue on the street, but not many people inside the shop.

The pan-fried bun chef remained expressionless, ignoring what people inside and outside the shop were saying, as if he couldn't hear them, and simply continued with his work.

After waiting for quite a while, almost all the wontons were finished, the four people's pan-fried buns were finally ready.

However, the wontons and fried dishes tasted alright.

After finishing our meal, we checked the time and it was already past 8:40. With only ten minutes left before the 9:00 meeting, the four of us went back to the hotel.

The meeting was held on the third floor.

Stepping out of the elevator, you enter a transfer hall. The meeting room door is already open, and several young men and women are busy setting up the venue. Banners are already up, a projector is in front of you playing a video, and laptops are placed on the first row of tables, with stacks of flyers next to them.

There was a bicycle in one corner, and a small box on the shelf, with pictures of calcium supplements for cooking pasted all around.

There were only about a dozen people scattered around the venue, all wearing coats and scarves, some of them yawning.

Zhang Fu excitedly pulled his stepmother inside, looking around the room with great excitement.

The people inside glanced in this direction and then went about their own business, no one saying a word.

Zhang Fuxing walked forward in a hurry, but was stopped by his stepmother, who glared at him and then casually found a place to sit down.

Zhang Fu was restless, as if he had thorns in his backside. He couldn't sit still, constantly looking around and observing the people who came to the meeting, always trying to find someone to talk to.

People gradually came in, and by nine o'clock, there were about thirty or forty people sitting in the venue.

However, the old lady was a little disappointed. Looking around, she saw that not many people looked wealthy.

In this era, it was quite easy to tell if someone was wealthy. Their clothing, demeanor, and speech all showed a significant difference, which couldn't be faked. Unlike later generations, where resources were plentiful and information exploded, making it difficult to distinguish truth from falsehood.

Zhang Fu finally found an opportunity to strike up a conversation. A middle-aged man wearing a black woolen overcoat sat down next to him, with a small checkered scarf tucked into his collar.

"Are you here to join as well?" Zhang Fu asked.

The middle-aged man paused for a moment, looked up at Zhang Fu, and smiled politely: "Look, you still don't understand."

(End of this chapter)