Summer nights in Jiangcheng are always heated by the fireworks of the night market. The shrimp guarded his small cart covered with "ancestral stir-fried shrimp" stickers. The rapeseed oil in the iron pot had just been heated to 70% heat. The fresh shrimps were wrapped in egg liquid and starch. When they were put into the pot with a "sting" sound, the aroma that instantly rose could float half the street.
"Shrimp Boss, please order something slightly spicy, add more green onion!" Zhang, a regular customer, patted the edge of the cart and shouted, still holding half a bottle of cold beer in his hand. The shrimps were cooked, and with a flick of the wrist, the peppercorns and ginger slices were added to the pot. The aroma mixed with the crackling sound of oil made the people lining up around them salivate.
He is twenty-five this year and has no big ambitions. He just wants to save enough money to turn his stroller into a small shop and send some money to his parents in his hometown. The bank card in the drawer just exceeded 80,000 yuan, which was still 20,000 yuan away from the goal. Xiaren thought about selling a few more copies tonight, maybe he could get enough by the end of the month. But just as he was flipping the next shrimp, the streetlight above his head suddenly exploded, and his whole body was instantly swallowed by the boundless darkness.
