Fried Rice for 288: Global Bigwigs Beg Me to Set Up a Stall

I sell fried rice at the night market for 288 yuan a bowl, and the whole internet calls me insanely greedy.

Only after a dying old man sits up again after eating it, a top-tier star willingly joins the line, and a state banquet chef kneels and calls me Master do they realize I was never just selling food.

Later, global tycoons go wild over me, and demons from another world tremble at my name. The richest man begs, “Please don’t close your stall! I’ll trade you half a planet!” I flip my wok and glance at the arrogant rich kid who just showed up. “The rules? My spatula is the rules.”