A new order popped up on the screen of my phone. I glanced at the note and my hands began to shake.
"Put more spicy food, not cilantro. After it's delivered, ring the doorbell three times, knock twice, put the food at the door, turn left, and leave. Don't look at me."
It's her again.
The female white-collar worker who lives in Building 302, Building 7, Xingfuli Community. I delivered the last order, and just as I raised my hand to knock on the door, a hand suddenly stretched out from the crack of the door and snatched the meal in. I was so frightened that I stepped back three steps, stepped on a banana peel on the ground, and fell to the ground.
When I returned to the store, I was scolded by the store manager for twenty-five minutes because the order was four minutes overtime.
"Alang, why are you standing there? Hurry up and serve the meal!" Chef Lao Zhang took the packaged Malatang and threw it out.
I caught it in a hurry, and it was so hot that I grinned.
I looked at the order address: Room 302, Building 7, Xingfuli Community. Yes, it's her again.
When I rushed out on my eDonkey, the weather forecast popped up on my phone: heavy rain warning, and it was expected to arrive in the city in half an hour.
