Chapter 37: Automatic Skewer Machine—Bought!
The first group seated around the skewer table—Long Qian and her crew—devoured every single skewer in the compartments in one breath.
Over two hundred skewers.
Ling Jing had stocked them herself, so she knew the count.
She had originally assumed that four-hundred-odd skewers would easily last the entire morning. Yet while chatting and eating, the group cleaned them out in under half an hour.
—Produce sold on skewers was inherently pricier than selling it whole.
Take potatoes, for example: a whole roasted potato sold for four City Coins.
In the Malatang pot, a single potato yielded ten skewers, selling for five City Coins total.
She sourced the produce virtually for free, and her operating costs amounted to little more than seasoning, skewers, and paper plates—absurdly low overhead.
Ling Jing knew it, and her patrons surely realized it too.
She had assumed everyone would adopt a wait-and-see attitude first.
Never did she anticipate such overwhelming popularity.
—The moment the sticks were tallied and the tab paid, a fresh wave of customers led by Auntie Yun, Jia Wen, and Jia Si was already seated at the table, eagerly waiting.
Those who hadn’t managed to snag a stool had even begun queuing up behind them.
Then again, it made sense.
No soul alive could resist the temptation of Malatang skewers.
Ling Jing—ardent Malatang enthusiast—nodded in profound understanding.
She hurried to dump the remaining two hundred skewers into the broth, cautioning them to wait five minutes until everything was cooked through before digging in.
Fortunately, the roaster, the one-pot stew, and the pickled radish were completely automated, sparing her from having to monitor them constantly.
Seeing that roasted potatoes and sweet potatoes had been selling steadily, Ling Jing used her newly acquired points to exchange for another thousand wooden skewers.
Back to the kitchen to thread skewers.
She hurriedly assembled about fifty skewers, only for the two-hundred-odd skewers out front to be wiped clean once again.
Her skewering speed simply couldn’t keep up with her customers’ devouring speed.
Left with no choice, she informed the patrons waiting in line that the Malatang skewers would be paused for a short while, earning an immediate, collective chorus of wails.
Ling Jing spun on her heel, retreated to the kitchen, and set to work skewering with furious haste.
Thread two hundred skewers, drop a batch into the pot, seat a wave of customers.
Then retreat to the kitchen and thread more skewers.
Before she could make much headway, the table outside had cleared its bowls again, calling her out to tally sticks and settle the bills.
This round, she ran into a customer whose total hit an odd number, requiring change.
Half a City Coin couldn’t be dispensed in coin, but Ling Jing had planned ahead for this eventuality—she had just not expected to encounter it on only her third table.
She drew out a handwritten coupon—made from plain paper from the bedroom desk, inscribed with [One Malatang Skewer Voucher], valid for future visits.
The recipient gladly accepted it, carefully folding the slip and tucking it into their coat.
Treating it like a prized memento.
…And then, Ling Jing resumed the relentless cycle of skewering.
Thread two hundred, load them into the tabletop pot, only to find the stools packed to capacity yet again.
Every face staring at her with wide, pleading puppy eyes.
Ling Jing: “…”
“Five minutes, right, Boss?!”
Without her needing to utter a word, a regular who had been waiting in line beat her to the punch.
Helplessly, she let out a dry chuckle, nodded, and ducked back into the kitchen to resume skewering.
Two grueling hours of prep vanished in a mere twenty minutes.
Add the five minutes of simmering, and it barely clocked half an hour from start to finish.
It was baffling—this table behaved like a bottomless pit, swallowing batch after batch the second it hit the broth.
It was practically an endless loop.
She was utterly trapped in the corridor between the skewer table and the kitchen.
The intense, high-volume prep work drastically sharpened Ling Jing’s dexterity and speed.
—Cutting down her assembly time from two hours per two hundred skewers to barely an hour and change.
Still, this was completely unsustainable.
Her hands were going entirely numb, and demand was still far outpacing supply.
She must have raked in quite a bit today, right? It was time to harness the power of technology.
Ducking into the kitchen, Ling Jing glanced at the revenue counter. Alright, a handsome haul.
Opening the Mall, she searched for an automatic skewer machine.
Good grief—a skewer machine cost a whopping 280 points?!
Ling Jing gritted her teeth: Buy!
Technology is the ultimate productive force!
Beyond the boundary of white light, a crew had been lying in ambush since early morning.
Heavily armed and masked in face cloths, they crouched behind a cluster of boulders not far from the perimeter.
“Second Brother, we’ve been staking this out all day, and not a single one has wandered off alone. They’re all moving in packs of twenty-odd people… There hasn’t been a single opening to settle the score.”
“What about over at the farm?” asked the man addressed as Second Brother.
Judging by his rasping cadence, it was none other than red-haired Aulier.
“Same story there! They stick together like glue! Even if someone lags behind, the moment our people show their faces, the rest of those toxic strays swarm right over.”
“Damn it all, they’re actually pulling off that solidarity crap.” Aulier spat a vicious curse.
It was nearing one in the afternoon. Not only had they walked away with zero spoils, but they had also spent the entire day watching that crowd gorge themselves on exquisite food inside the light!
Gurgle—
No one knew whose stomach growled first.
Soon, hollow rumblings echoed out across the ditch one after another.
Spreading like a contagious yawn.
“What’s the big idea? One more rumble and you can haul your ass back to the city! Were you starved to death in your last life or what?!” Aulier barked.
“…”
The berated lackeys didn’t want their bellies groaning either.
Yet the rumble of an empty gut was hardly something mortal willpower could control.
They had staked out this dirt ditch for nearly an entire day, and for nearly an entire day, those mouthwatering aromas had drifted under their noses.
What on earth was that smell…? Just catching a whiff made saliva pool uncontrollably, making the hunger clawing at their guts feel a hundred times worse.
The Big Boss had told them to grab a few stragglers today, plunder their food, and force them to buy rations on the gang’s behalf.
Every single member of their syndicate had been blacklisted by the Chinese Restaurant; buying food outright was impossible.
So, stealing it was!
Yet right now… not only could they not buy a bite, they couldn’t even find an angle to rob anyone.
All that was left was sheer, agonizing craving.
Damn it!
They were going to starve of longing at this rate!!!
