Running a Food Stall to Support My Deceptive Omega - Chapter 35

It wasn’t until the following afternoon that the rhythmic, alternating snoring in the home of the vendor who stole the tables and stools finally began to subside.

The vendor and his father, lying in two separate rooms, woke up one after the other. Their eyes were stung by the sunlight streaming through the windows, making it difficult to open them. One raised an arm to shield his face, while the other turned over to face away from the window.

Both instinctively chose to grab another few minutes of sleep, waiting until they were fully awake to get out of bed. However, in that semi-conscious state, their senses began to sharpen, and the first to notice something wrong was their sense of smell.

There was a faint, elusive stench lingering around their noses. When they closed their eyes and tried to sniff carefully, they couldn’t catch anything. But the moment they drifted off into a daze, the smell became intense—so foul that neither covering their noses nor pulling the blankets over their heads could block it out.

What was going on?

Unable to take it anymore, the vendor who had stolen the furniture flipped over and sat up. After a few moments of recovery, he slid into his shoes and shuffled toward the door.

The door swung open with a swish, and the elusive stench immediately became tangible, slamming into his face like a physical blow. It was as if he’d been slapped across the mouth by the odor itself!

“Gag—retch—!”

Before he could even process what was happening, his stomach churned violently. His empty stomach produced wave after wave of sour bile, swirling at the back of his throat. He instinctively grabbed the doorframe for support, dry-heaving repeatedly from the stench.

How could it be this foul?

Having dealt with fish for days, the vendor was long accustomed to the natural fishy smell. While he found it unpleasant, it had never made him want to vomit like this. But now, while part of the smell was the familiar fishiness, the other part smelled as if something had been soaking in water for three days and nights—fermented, rotted, and utterly putrid.

He gripped the doorframe, retching as his eyes scanned the courtyard. His eyes were stinging and bloodshot from the fumes; after blinking a few times, tears began to well up.

After a few glances, he noticed something piled against the courtyard wall. It was a bloody, red-and-white mess, surrounded by a dense cloud of buzzing flies.

At first, his mind was sluggish, unable to comprehend what it was. But in the moment he realized what it might be, he could no longer hold it back. His face flushed red from the abdominal spasms, his eyes bulged, and his mouth flew open.

Another world-shaking “BLEGH—!!!” erupted.

The bile finally stopped swirling in his throat and spewed out, splashing disgustingly onto the ground. He was terrified by the sight of that mangled mess. His body, no longer able to lean against the doorframe, collapsed with a thud as his backside hit the threshold before sliding onto the dirt. He kicked his feet frantically, trying to push himself away from the heap of flesh.

That couldn’t be… that couldn’t be… human, right?

As soon as that thought surfaced, he let out a piercing scream: “Dad! Dad! Something terrible has happened! Come out quickly, Dad!”

His tragic wail echoed through the air. Had it not been for his neighbors being busy preparing food for the night market—their own various noises drowning him out—they would have been frightened out of their wits.

In the other room, the vendor’s father, still shielding his eyes with his arm, was irritated by the noise. He knit his brows tightly and pulled the quilt over his head.

Noise, noise! Constant noise all day long!

Is there nothing you can do without dragging me into it?

He truly didn’t know when his son had become such a useless waste. He assumed his son had woken up and, unable to stand seeing his father resting, was trying to drag him up to work. At his age, he should have been enjoying a life of leisure; if it weren’t for his incompetent son, he would have retired long ago.

The father ignored him, burying his head deeper into the quilt. But his son wouldn’t stop. Seeing no response, the son began pounding on the door, the vibrations rattling the bed. There was no hope for sleep now.

Fuming, the father sat up, cursing under his breath as he stomped to the door. He yanked it open.

“What is it now?! Can’t you start the work yourself? If I work a little less than you, does it kill you?!”

“Whose stall is it anyway? If you don’t step up, am I supposed to carry you forever? Am I supposed to help you even after I’m a ghost?”

While cursing, he raised his tobacco pipe—which seemed permanently attached to his hand—intending to whack his son on the head. But the son caught his arm. His expression was one of pure terror, bordering on a breakdown.

“Something’s happened, Dad! Something’s happened! Look by the wall… what is that?”

“It couldn’t be… it couldn’t be… a person, could it?”

At the mention of the word “person,” the buzzing of the flies grew louder. Despite the bright sun, he felt a chill and shivered, his body nearly sliding to the floor again. The mess by the wall wasn’t a whole body; it was clearly something shredded beyond recognition. A mangled body appearing in their yard meant big trouble! They could be dragged to prison and interrogated under torture!

Hearing this, the father’s anger froze. Fear and disbelief filled his eyes. If it weren’t for the fact that his son was already paralyzed with fear, he would have collapsed as well. To maintain his image, he forced himself to stay upright. Sweat poured down his face. His pipe clattered to the ground. Supporting himself against the doorframe, his legs trembling, he walked toward the wall.

He wanted to see clearly: what were those clumps of red and white?

As he drew closer, the cloud of flies seemed to warp like ghosts in the air. The humming of their wings made his head feel like it was about to explode. A few flies accidentally flew into him, making him flinch and nearly lose his balance. The closer he got, the more he hunched over, as if trying to crawl into the earth from fear.

Finally, he saw it.

There were indeed several piles of bloody matter against the wall. And the “white” he had imagined to be cloth or paper was actually… maggots.

A mountain of fat, white, writhing maggots!!!

The father couldn’t hold it back either. With a wail, he vomited. It was too disgusting, simply too foul. How could such a thing be in his home? Was it human flesh? Who was trying to ruin him?!

Both men were completely terrified, slumped on the ground, unable to move.

A similar scene was unfolding at the home of Zhang, the pastry vendor.

He had woken up much earlier. Upon waking, he smelled a faint stench, though it wasn’t as severe as the other house. He assumed his leftover pastries from the past few days had gone moldy, so he went to the kitchen, lifted the white cloth, and began picking out the spoiled ones.

After sorting them, the good pastries were set aside to be sold. As for the bad ones, he didn’t waste them; he picked off the moldy parts and popped the rest into his mouth. He chewed with satisfaction, not even noticing the off-taste. He still felt his work was excellent, no worse than Mu Jinyu’s.

After filling his stomach, Zhang began working hard on a new batch of pastries to fill the gaps. Unfortunately, he had never studied under a master; his recipes were all self-taught. Regardless of how they actually tasted or looked, he believed they were perfect. It never occurred to him that his business had been poor for years because his pastries were mediocre. He hummed a tune as he worked, oblivious to the fact that the faint stench had not disappeared after he ate the moldy cake. In fact, it was getting stronger.

His joy was briefly interrupted by anger when he remembered how Mu Jinyu had affected his business. He kneaded the dough with extra force, venting his rage. Fortunately, he had successfully blocked Mu Jinyu’s stove for two days in a row. Even after she discovered it yesterday, she hadn’t cleared out the mud. It seemed she had given up.

Thinking of this, a smile returned to Zhang’s face. Mu Jinyu definitely doesn’t know who did it. She’s probably at her wit’s end. The thought was exhilarating.

He finished shaping the dough and set it aside to ferment. Calculating the time, he realized the waste collector should be arriving soon. Zhang gathered the household waste and headed for the courtyard gate. Usually, waste collectors came in the morning, but because this was a street of night market vendors who slept late, they came in the afternoon instead.

Carrying the waste, Zhang reached the gate. He smelled a stronger stench but assumed it was coming from the bucket in his hand. Little did he know what awaited him as he opened the door and took his first step!

Squelch!

His foot landed on something soft, runny, and oozing with the juices of rotting fish guts! He never expected such a thing outside his door. Caught off guard, his foot slipped. His center of gravity shifted—feet forward, body back.

Thump!

He slammed heavily onto the ground. The bucket of waste in his hand was launched into the air. Excrement spilled, and trash scattered. With a splash, it all rained down on him.

Zhang had no time to react. Seeing the waste falling, his face twisted in horror, and he squeezed his eyes and mouth shut. I can’t let this get in my mouth!

As the foul mess drenched him, Zhang felt as though he had died for a moment. He was sitting in a puddle of rotting fish guts, his back aching from the impact with the threshold. He wanted to call for help, he wanted to breathe, but covered in filth, he didn’t dare open his mouth or inhale through his nose. His face turned black and red with rage; he was utterly humiliated.

Just as he hoped no one would see, two sharp snickers reached his ears. The speakers were merciless:

“Look at that! That guy is so clumsy, he actually did that to himself.”

“Yuck, that’s disgusting. Looking at it hurts my eyes.”

Hearing this, Zhang nearly spat out blood in fury. His face was covered in filth, so he didn’t dare open his eyes to see who was mocking him. Knowing he was sitting in a pile of trash and excrement while people laughed instead of helping made his teeth grind. His fists clenched so tight he almost fainted from rage.

The two people mocking him were actually Shadow Guard One and Shadow Guard Two, now dressed in civilian clothes. Within fifteen minutes last night, they had learned everything about the grudge between Zhang and their master. After their master had taken her own revenge, they decided to stand a distance away from his yard to see his reaction.

They had been snacking on melon seeds and chatting, but they hadn’t expected to witness such a “spectacular” show!

Ugh, it stinks.

They threw away their melon seeds and covered their noses with their sleeves, waving their hands to fan the smell away. The rotting fish guts were bad enough, but the added household waste made the entire alley reek for miles.

Other vendors in the alley, busy preparing food, were becoming agitated. The smell had been lingering since morning, but now it was unbearable. They were in the food business; how could they work with this stench? Several neighbors lost their tempers, threw open their doors, and stormed out to find the culprit.

Inevitably, they saw Zhang sprawled on the ground amidst the foul-smelling mess. Everyone’s face twisted in disgust as they began pointing and whispering. Mockery and cold remarks flooded his ears.

Zhang sat in the filth for a long time, paralyzed by pain and shock, before he finally forced himself to wipe his face. He squinted his eyes and tried to scramble to his feet to get inside. But there was too much slime; he couldn’t see clearly, and his body was bruised from the fall—it felt like a bone was out of place. He struggled, but instead of standing, he slipped and rolled, getting even dirtier.

The laughter grew louder. He wanted to tell them all to go to hell, but his mouth was smeared with filth he couldn’t wipe away, making it impossible to speak. The lack of oxygen from his rage nearly caused him to black out.

Shadow Guard One and Two had seen enough. They didn’t want to stay in the stinky alley any longer. They walked away, arms around each other like ordinary friends. They muttered to themselves about how clever their master and her companion were for coming up with such a soul-crushing method. As shadow guards, they felt they were too “refined”—all they knew was killing. They really had to learn a few things from this.

Meanwhile, busy in their own courtyard, Mu Jinyu and Rong Heng had no idea what had happened at the homes of the two vendors. They hadn’t expected that their simple “tit-for-tat” act of tossing four bags of fish guts would result in such misery. They could only blame the vendors’ bad luck.

Because of their successful retaliation, both women were in high spirits. They worked through the afternoon with smiles and laughter. When they arrived at the night market with their prepared food, they noticed other vendors huddled in small groups, whispering excitedly. As Mu Jinyu and Rong Heng passed, many gave them subtle, knowing looks.

News travels fast among the vendors. Word had already spread about someone dumping fish guts at the homes of Zhang and the other vendor, leaving them in a pathetic state. Everyone immediately linked it to Mu Jinyu. Looking at the two seemingly gentle and cheerful women, the other vendors thought: They might look kind, but they sure are ruthless when they strike.

Truly, never provoke an honest person.

When Mu Jinyu noticed them, the gossiping vendors quickly looked away, but they continued to whisper about how those three deserved it. By now, every vendor knew Mu Jinyu was the one being bullied—the stolen furniture, the copied recipe, the blocked stove. They asked themselves: if it were them, could they have kept smiling and running their stall? They probably would have been crushed! Mu Jinyu was truly impressive for persevering.

Some friendly vendors approached her and recounted the afternoon’s events in great detail. Hearing how the furniture thieves were so scared they couldn’t walk straight, and how Zhang was drenched in filth and too ashamed to leave his house, Mu Jinyu and Rong Heng shared a look and burst out laughing.

Rong Heng clapped her hands and leaned her head against Mu Jinyu, asking for a head pat to celebrate. Those three absolutely deserved it!

Vendor Wang, whose stall was opposite Mu Jinyu’s, walked over. As their eyes met, Mu Jinyu knew what she wanted to ask. She nodded silently. Seeing this, Vendor Wang let out a sigh of relief and smiled. She wouldn’t have dared to teach those three a lesson herself, but now that Mu Jinyu had taken the lead, she felt much better.

After a quiet “thank you,” Vendor Wang hurried back to her stall and quickly prepared two pancakes—loaded with meat, eggs, and vegetables—and handed them to Mu Jinyu and Rong Heng. Mu Jinyu didn’t take them for free; she gave Vendor Wang a portion of fish cakes in return. Everyone was happy and harmonious.

With the pancakes in hand, Mu Jinyu and Rong Heng set up their stall and sat behind the cart, heads together, whispering and eating. The pancakes were delicious—crispy and savory on the outside, filled with marinated minced meat, a perfectly fried egg, and crisp lettuce. Every bite was satisfying.

They laughed and ate by their cart, surrounded by an atmosphere so intimate that no one else could intrude—a tiny corner of peace and happiness amidst the bustling lights of the night market.

They didn’t have much time to savor the food, though. After finishing quickly, they began their work. Since Mu Jinyu didn’t know how long Zhang would continue his antics, she hadn’t cleared the stove yet and continued to sell raw noodles. Fortunately, customers didn’t mind; they reported that the noodles were excellent when cooked at home. While there was a slight difference from Mu Jinyu’s own cooking, most customers couldn’t tell the difference.

As soon as they opened, a queue formed. The two became instantly busy, barely having a moment to breathe.

After a while, a familiar voice called out: “Boss Mu, two large orders of raw noodles!”

Mu Jinyu looked up from her work and saw a smiling Shi Songmu, accompanied by her childhood friend. They had arrived early to wait in line.

“If you want noodles, just let me know in advance,” Mu Jinyu said while packing them. “I’ll save some for you so you don’t have to wait.” Since Shi Songmu was a regular, they had become friends.

“Eh, we were coming to the night market anyway, we don’t mind the wait,” Shi Songmu laughed, placing the money in the wooden box. She stepped aside with her noodles and asked, “Are you free tomorrow? Shall we go to the Jade Pavilion for breakfast?”

“I heard they have a new tea and pastry set. It shouldn’t be bad. Want to try it?” Shi Songmu loved trying new foods and spent much of her carpentry earnings on eating out.

Since her mornings were relatively free, Mu Jinyu didn’t hesitate. “Sure. I’ll bring my ‘distant relative’ along too.”

She glanced toward the figure by the fish cake stall.

Shi Songmu: “……?”