I Opened a Shop and Took It Easy, Now the Abandoned Scenic Spot Has Five Stars!

[Food + System + Everyday Life + Leveling Up + No Female Lead]

The day Yang Chen is unceremoniously fired by his heartless company, he stands beneath a CBD office tower with a cardboard box in his arms and a single thought in his head: He never wants to work again.

Then the System arrives.

The Supreme Chef System, premium edition: it provides the shop, renovations, and ingredients, plus a guaranteed monthly salary of 20,000 yuan. There’s only one condition: the shop must operate for at least ninety hours a month.

Yang Chen does the math: three hours a day on average, with a higher hourly wage than he earned as a programmer.

He’s in.

The System tells him to choose a location, so he picks an abandoned tourist attraction that’s been free for ten years.

The System suggests pricing egg fried rice at 38 yuan. He raises it to 588 yuan.

He sets business hours from four to seven in the afternoon. By then, all the tourists have gone home, so who’s going to eat there?

Perfect.

On opening day, he lounges in a rocking chair, scrolling on his phone and hoping not a single customer shows up.

Instead, a food blogger gets lost and stumbles in. One bite of the egg fried rice later, they post a video that goes viral overnight.

Next, a three-Michelin-star chef comes to challenge him, cries after one bowl of noodles, and immediately begs to become his apprentice. The founder of a food-review platform gives him the only perfect score in its history. Famous chefs from all over the country line up to apply for jobs washing pots. The deserted mountain attraction is transformed into a food-lovers’ paradise drawing thousands of visitors a day.

And Yang Chen still works only three hours a day, leaning against the prep counter and playing video games.

He just wants to take it easy in peace, but the whole world refuses to leave him alone.

This is a ridiculous foodie story about “I want to lie flat, but my talent won’t let me”: egg fried rice for 588 yuan, noodles for 9,999 yuan. One bite, and it’s worth every penny.