At the age of 35, Jiang Che's life hit rock bottom.
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> His business failed and he was in debt worth millions. His wife left in despair, leaving him with only a daughter in elementary school and a late-night noodle shop that was on the verge of bankruptcy.
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> Standing in front of the gas stove, looking at the bland soup in the pot, he wanted to end it there. But his daughter's words, "Dad, I'm hungry," rekindled the glimmer of a match in him.
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> From that day on, Jiang Che no longer expected to get rich overnight, but only wanted to cook every bowl of noodles.
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> But he gradually discovered that he seemed to have a "strange disease"——
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> The girl who shows up on time every night and only orders the cheapest Yangchun noodles, the sadness in her eyes is the taste of lost love; the middle-aged man in a suit and leather shoes, but secretly wiping tears in the corner, the salty taste of the noodles is mixed with the bitterness of unemployment; the tattooed brother who always asks for "harder noodles and more green onions" is missing his mother's craftsmanship...
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> He calmly added an extra poached egg to the girl's noodles, made the uncle's soup base warmer, and sprinkled a layer of golden garlic crisps into the eldest brother's bowl.
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> Jiang Che never thought that his small shop of less than ten square meters would become a late-night canteen for countless broken hearts in this cold city.
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> He never thought that the girl whom he warmed with a bowl of noodles was actually the daughter of the richest man; that unemployed uncle was a top IT guru; that tattooed brother was the invisible boss in charge of the entire street...
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> When they handed over olive branches one after another, Jiang Che just wiped the table calmly:
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> "I'm just a noodle seller."
