When I look like a wealthy person, thousands of people will hate me. My only plug-in is a mobile phone with a battery life of only 1%.
The good news: It contains all the expertise from my past life—unpublished exclusive recipes, confidential market reports, and a massive database of gourmet foods.
Bad news: It can only be turned on for ten minutes a day, cannot be charged, cannot be connected to the Internet, and is an island of knowledge in this world.
At the birthday party, the fake daughter cried and accused me of pouring red wine on her.
The whole family was waiting to see me cry crazy and be kicked out.
I took out the "Civil Code" in front of everyone: "Parents' obligation to support ends at adulthood. Today I am eighteen years old. Please separate the household registration as soon as possible."
He turned around and left, as neatly as a legal elite.
Everyone thought I would end up living on the streets.
Until I set up a stall in Osmanthus Alley in the old city.
There is an ingredient analysis table on the pickle bottle, and a temperature timer is placed next to the braised sauce pot.
Customers exclaimed: "This tastes amazing!"
I smiled: "Data promise: crispness >90%, nitrite peak 30% lower than the national standard."
The reclusive heir to the state banquet accepted me as his disciple: "Girl, do you know the data on ingredients?"
An upstart in the business circle handed over his business card: "Are you interested in scaling up your product?"
Even my family members who kicked me out began to ask: "Is that popular food blogger really Su He?"
I looked down at my phone——
Remaining usage time today: 00:07:33.
It's enough for me to prepare the next optimized recipe and send a message to the handsome guy in a suit who always comes to buy pickles:
"Mr. Gu, we can talk about the cooperation you mentioned last time."
