Mingming took good care of his new little brother — that way, when he brought the kid out to show off later, the boy would be more eager to play along.
So first thing that morning, Mingming came running over to Sarilang's place, with attendants in tow carrying several sets of clothes suitable for an ordinary child.
He said a quick hello to Sarilang, then headed out the door with his imperial sidekick.
The moment they stepped outside, he spotted two figures at a roadside stall not far away — weren't those his own Old Master?
And wasn't that Jinyuan jie standing next to him?
What on earth were they doing?
Curious, Mingming wandered over.
"Yo yo, check it out, one order of jianbing guozi!"
"Check it out, check it out, one order, one order!"
The two of them had rushed out without breakfast, and stumbling upon something that looked remarkably like jianbing guozi left Zhao Baihui genuinely astonished.
"Old Master, Old Master, please wait just a moment — I'll make yours first! My apologies to everyone else!"
"No worries, no worries, serve the Old Master first! To even lay eyes on the Old Master today — we must have done something right in three lifetimes!"
The vendor and the people gathered around flushed crimson with excitement.
None of them knew the Old Master by sight, but he had arrived in an automobile, and when his attendants called out "Old Master," everyone understood who Zhao Baihui was. Whoever rode in a car had to be from the Zhao family, and there was only one person in the world whom the Zhao family would call "laoye."
"Check it out, one order — Old Master, what does 'check it out' mean?"
That one actually stumped Zhao Baihui. He genuinely had no idea.
*Check it out — what in the world does that even mean?*
It was too late to go back and ask now.
"I heard it from someone else. Probably a regional dialect somewhere — it's not important."
"But Old Master, Old Master, why do you call this a jianbing guozi? The stall doesn't seem to call it that either!"
"Why do you have so many questions? Are you a walking 'Hundred Thousand Whys'? Maybe I should stop calling you Jinyuan and start calling you Jinwen — 'Jin-Questions.'"
"Something this simple and you still have to pester the Old Master about it every day — figure it out yourself!"
"Hmph! Fine, I won't ask! I'm never asking you anything again!"
"I hope you can actually remember that for one full day. I'm not asking for much — just one day of peace and quiet!"
"Hmph!"
"Miss, if the Old Master says it's called jianbing guozi, then jianbing guozi it is — and that's a fine name! Tomorrow I'll have a proper sign made and put it right up!"
Zhao Baihui shot the man a sidelong glance and said nothing. Crafty little old fellow.
He could already picture it — below those words, a smaller line reading: *Name personally designated by the Old Master.* And those words would probably end up bigger than "jianbing guozi" itself, sending business through the roof — the kind of business that no civil service post could tempt you away from.
Zhao Baihui had fallen for this kind of trick before. He'd once eaten something at a street stall, and it wasn't anything special — but he felt bad saying so. The common folk work hard for their living.
So he'd waved it off with a vague, "Not bad, I suppose."
And on the strength of that single throwaway remark, the vendor had a sign up by the next morning.
*The Old Master says: "Not bad, I suppose!"* — and underneath in smaller print: *Why not try it for yourself?*
Business exploded.
People considered it a point of pride to eat the same thing as the Old Master.
Then a rumor started making the rounds: *So the Old Master has a taste for things that have gone a bit sour, does he?*
What the — how was that any different from those people back in Qingniu Town spreading stories that he was some degenerate with a taste for young girls?
Wasn't this tarnishing the Old Master's image?
Later, when Zhao Baihui watched that stall grow and eventually spawn branches, he hit his limit.
The Old Master issued a personal directive.
It was relayed to City Hall.
City Hall passed it down to the City Public Safety Bureau.
Then to the District Bureau, the Street Office Bureau, the Community Bureau.
By the time it filtered through every layer, the head of the community public safety office showed up in person to inspect the little food stall, found it in violation of hygiene standards, and issued a fine of forty yuan — one pay period's wages for a civil servant, the maximum allowed for ordinary infractions — along with a mandatory order to rectify the issues within a deadline.
And they required the sign to be taken down, never to be hung again.
The whole affair set government offices buzzing all across the city, but at least the Old Master's reputation was partially salvaged.
Still, the false rumor about the Old Master's fondness for sour food continued to circulate quietly in certain small circles.
And it seemed to be mutating. Variations emerged: a taste for raw things, a taste for gamey things, a taste for fishy things. After all, the Old Master was no ordinary man — wasn't it perfectly natural that he'd have tastes different from everyone else?
Some things, once damaged, are very difficult to restore to what they were.
"Old Master, Jinyuan jie — what are you two doing here?"
Sneaking out at the crack of dawn to check on the child — being caught like this was a little awkward.
Sarilang had followed along, and now she finally laid eyes on the legendary Old Master Zhao.
But this man — wasn't he a little on the lewd side?
He'd been staring at her chest from the moment they met.
*Hmph. Men.* One look at how Mingxin carried on, and you'd have a pretty good idea of what kind of person this Old Master Zhao was.
This Old Master Zhao was the most powerful man in the world right now. Should she sacrifice herself once more? That way, her son Manggultai would be safe, and maybe someday there'd even be a chance for something more...
Besides, she'd already sacrificed herself once before. Sacrifice enough times, and you get used to it.
With her mind made up and her resolve steeled, Sarilang put on a sultry, heavy-lidded gaze, and with an affected, exaggerated sway of the hips, she sauntered forward.
"Don't move! If you're going to walk, just walk normally — what's with all that violent hip-swinging? You'll shake the baby right out of existence!"