Old People in Restaurants

Shen Zhiwei opened a restaurant. The cook is deaf. The accountant can't remember anything. Caimai is lame in one leg. The waiter is mute. The restaurant opened in the corner of the county town, and its signboard read "Restaurant for the Elderly" crookedly. Neighbors said that the store would not survive more than three days. Shen Zhiwei doesn't care. She herself was no better. Loss of taste, unable to taste salty or salty. But she can smell. You can smell the wheat from which year the flour was ground, how many years of old wine has been hidden under the vinegar vat, and the smell of fireworks from which street the guests carry. She led this group of old, weak, sick and disabled people to sell a miscut noodle dish as a signature, stir-fry the leftovers into a "full house of gold and jade", and make friends with her colleagues who came to eat at the restaurant. Life could have gone on like this. Until she discovered that "Imperial Gift" was engraved on the back of Lao Zhou's sword. Those numbers that Uncle Qian miscalculated, each group is a password. The poison that Zhao Laizi had smelled was only found in the palace. Xiaoman's muteness was caused by being frightened in the palace at the age of three. It was no coincidence that this group of people gathered in this shabby restaurant. Ten years ago, a dish killed her father. Ten years later, she overturned the case with a dish. There is no distinction between high and low ingredients, and no distinction between long and short stories. Once you enter this door, it's just a meal.