txolops Chapter 94 The Little Painter in the Living Room
Chapter 94 The Little Painter in the Living Room
As night deepened, the alleyways of the old residential area quieted down.
Lin Chen rode his electric tricycle into the alley and stopped in the open space downstairs from the rental house.
Following closely behind, the bread truck slowly drove up and turned off its engine beside them.
The car lights are off.
"Click".
Wang Hai pushed open the driver's side door and jumped out, stretching out a big yawn.
"Phew—I'm all sweaty, but it feels so good!"
Wang Hai stretched his shoulders as he walked to the back of the van and opened the door.
Tangtang was sitting obediently in the pink child safety seat in the back.
The little girl was clutching the brown paper bag tightly in her arms.
"Uncle Fatty, we're home!"
Tangtang happily raised her little face when she saw the car door open.
"We're home! Come on, let Uncle help you out of the car."
Wang Hai unbuckled his seatbelt and lifted the little girl onto the ground with both hands.
Lin Chen pulled out the key to the electric tricycle, walked over and patted his daughter's head: "Take your things and follow Uncle Fatty upstairs first. Daddy will take the empty bucket."
"good!"
Tangtang nodded vigorously, and hugged the brown paper bag even tighter with her two little hands.
"Brother Chen, let me get you two!"
Wang Hai turned around and walked to the back of the bread truck, opened the trunk, and took out two empty stainless steel buckets containing old hen soup and chilled radishes.
Lin Chen also picked up the several medium-sized empty buckets that had been used to hold rice from the tricycle.
The two carried the light, empty buckets and took Tangtang upstairs.
"Click".
Lin Chen took out his key, pushed open the security door, and casually pressed the switch on the wall.
The incandescent lights in the living room turned on instantly.
The three of them changed into slippers.
As soon as she changed her shoes, Tangtang couldn't wait to run to the living room with the brown paper bag in her arms.
"Daddy! Where's my little table?!"
Tangtang ran to the center of the living room, looked around, and when she didn't see the folding wooden table she usually used for drawing, she immediately turned around and called out.
"Next to the TV cabinet."
Lin Chen put down the empty bucket in his hand, walked to the TV cabinet, and took out the small folding table.
He set up the table in the open space in front of the sofa and moved Tangtang's little plastic stool over.
"Please sit down."
Lin Chen said.
"Thank you, Daddy!"
Tangtang cheered and sat on the small stool, placing the brown paper bag in her hand on the small wooden table.
She stretched out her delicate white hand and carefully pried open the creases of the kraft paper bag.
The first thing she took out was the set of hardcover picture books, which Tangtang neatly placed on the corner of the table.
Then, she carefully lifted out the exquisite rectangular wooden box.
"Click".
Tangtang gently pried open the small metal latch on the wooden box and lifted the lid.
Thirty-six brightly colored markers were neatly arranged inside.
"Wow—" The little girl's eyes lit up, and she happily showed off to Wang Hai, "Look, Uncle Fatty!"
There are red ones, yellow ones, and many kinds of green ones!
Wow, so many colors!
"Our Tangtang is a great painter now!"
Wang Hai leaned over and praised him with a smile.
Lin Chen took a stack of blank A4 drawing paper from the cabinet and placed it next to Tangtang.
"Go ahead and draw. Be careful not to draw on your clothes."
Lin Chen gave a soft instruction.
"Okay!"
Tangtang nodded emphatically and immediately picked out a bright red paintbrush from the box.
She removed the pen cap, lowered her head, and her expression instantly became incredibly focused.
"Swish, swish, swish..."
In the quiet living room, the crisp sound of paintbrushes scratching paper could be heard.
"How about drawing a big windmill?"
Wang Hai asked.
"Yes! I promised to give it to the pretty auntie!"
Tangtang didn't even look up, answering in her childish voice.
"Okay, then take your time drawing. Your uncle and dad are going to work."
Wang Hai straightened up and looked at Lin Chen: "Brother Chen, should I move all the buckets to the kitchen?"
"Move it inside and soak it in hot water."
The two men, each carrying several buckets, strode into the kitchen.
The kitchen is small, but it is clean and tidy.
Several stainless steel drums were placed one after another in the sink and on the ground.
"Splash—"
Lin Chen turned on the tap, and hot water flowed out.
The two took off their coats, tied on waterproof aprons, rolled up their sleeves, and began to work.
Wang Hai picked up an empty rice bucket, squeezed on some dish soap, and quickly scrubbed it in circles with a sponge.
"Brother Chen, the rice sold out really well today. There wasn't a single extra grain left at the bottom of the bucket. It all came off with a rinse of hot water."
Wang Hai said with a smile.
"Um."
Lin Chen took the bucket that Wang Hai had finished cleaning and rinsed it with clean water in another sink.
"By the way, Brother Chen."
While scrubbing the bucket vigorously, Wang Hai said, "On the way back just now, I saw quite a few people in the group chat urging us to prepare more food for tomorrow."
Hearing this, Lin Chen didn't stop what he was doing, but listened calmly.
Wang Hai continued, "I rejected them directly in the group chat!"
I told them, "Boss Lin's rules are the rules. One hundred and fifty servings of fried rice every day, without fail, not a single extra!"
After washing a bucket, Wang Hai handed it to Lin Chen and continued, "Now I completely understand how brilliant it is that you set this rule, Brother Chen."
To ensure the texture of fried rice, you must concentrate on the effort and control of the heat.
If we really act like those roadside stalls, adding extra portions and cooking in large batches in a chaotic manner just to make more money, the taste will definitely change, and our reputation will be ruined.
Therefore, the amount of fried rice must not be increased!
Hearing Wang Hai's words, Lin Chen said.
"It's good that you understand that."
Lin Chen turned the washed bucket upside down on the drainer. "For a business to last, it depends on quality, not quantity."
"That's right!"
Wang Hai nodded, then changed the subject, "But Brother Chen, although we can't increase the amount of fried rice, we should definitely make more of this free chilled radish tomorrow."
I see those people in the group are practically green with envy. I'm bringing thirty pounds of radishes tomorrow; they might just snatch them all up!
"Thirty is about right. Any more and the refrigerator won't hold it all, and there won't be enough time to marinate it."
Lin Chen took a rag and dried his hands.
"Okay, whatever you say. I'll go to the market tomorrow morning and pick out the biggest and crispest white radish!"
Wang Haiqian is full of energy.
The two chatted casually in the kitchen.
The sounds of running water and the crunching of a sponge rubbing against metal mingled together in the kitchen.
Outside the kitchen.
In the bright living room, Tangtang sat at a small wooden table, her two little feet gently dangling in the air.
"The yellow ones are pillars..."
The little girl muttered to herself as she carefully scribbled on the white paper with her yellow paintbrush.
A brightly colored windmill is slowly taking shape.
The sound of running water was heard in the kitchen.
The paintbrushes in the living room were constantly moving.