Poor rich beat the world with system

Liu Yang walked towards a young college couple sitting in the corner with a menu in hand, his heart brighter than the sunshine outside.

Had he not been afraid of startling the guests, he would have hummed a tune.

The young girl's expression as she looked at the menu was as if she were reading some kind of heavenly scripture.

Her finger wandered back and forth over the names of the dishes, and finally, as if to pass the time, she casually ordered two dishes:

"Let's have twice-cooked pork, and also some shredded potatoes."

"Sure thing!" Shredded potatoes? He hadn't practiced this dish,

—but with the system in hand, he felt like he could conquer the world!

Besides, it's just shredded potatoes; could they be more difficult than twice-cooked pork?

His voice carried an unnoticeable excitement even to himself.

In the kitchen, Liu Yang skillfully chopped the twice-cooked pork, his knife skills a far cry from his previous "thousand-layer cake" level.

The guidance provided by the system played in his mind like a movie, each step as clear as day.

Although he hadn't practiced shredded potatoes, the knowledge given by the system was like an encyclopedia, with detailed "strategies" from the angle of slicing to the control of heat.

When the two dishes were served, Liu Yang felt more nervous than when handing in an exam paper.

This was his first "real battle" after improving his dishes!

The young man picked up a piece of twice-cooked pork with his chopsticks, and the moment it entered his mouth, his eyes suddenly widened.

He was stunned for a few seconds, then, as if remembering something, his hands trembled slightly:

"This... this taste..."

The girl was startled by her boyfriend's reaction, fearing it might be particularly unpalatable, and only dared to pick up a small piece with her chopsticks...

Suddenly, she covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face without her realizing:

"Mom... this is mom's flavor..."

The commotion caught the attention of the surrounding guests.

Some cast puzzled glances, as if observing some kind of alien creature.

"Young people are so emotional," an uncle chuckled, shaking his head, "It's just two home-cooked dishes."

But the genuine emotions of the two students were too infectious, and gradually, more people ordered these two dishes.

"I'll have some twice-cooked pork too."

"And a portion of shredded potatoes!"

When the dishes were served one by one, the reactions of the diners were even more lively than a live broadcast of the Spring Festival Gala.

"This twice-cooked pork..." A middle-aged man in a meticulously tailored suit suddenly put down his chopsticks, looking dazed as if he had been immobilized by a spell.

"It's exactly like what my grandmother used to make, even that slight burnt aroma..." He couldn't continue, his eyes a little red.

"Can shredded potatoes be this delicious?" The aunt at the next table was so excited she almost bit her tongue,

"The control of heat is just perfect! I haven't had such perfect shredded potatoes in years!"

"Boss!" Another uncle shouted, his voice so loud it could shake the yellowed menu on the wall, "Another serving of twice-cooked pork!"

As the diners in the shop were stunned by this unexpected deliciousness, the wind chime at the door rang again.

Several delivery guys in different colored uniforms peeked inside, looking as if they were confirming whether they had entered the wrong set.

"Lao Wang, you've been eating here for so long, we thought you passed out inside!" One of the guys joked.

Lao Wang didn't lift his head, his chopsticks moving so fast it was like playing high-speed table tennis: "Don't talk, let me have a couple more bites.

This boss is a hidden master! Not only is the noodle dish great, but this twice-cooked pork, tut-tut..."

"Pfft, how good can it be..." A new delivery guy curled his lip, picking up a piece with his chopsticks.

The result was that after one bite, his expression was more colorful than seeing a ghost.

His eyes widened more than any bad review they usually saw, his chopsticks suspended in mid-air as if someone had pressed the pause button.

"This... is this twice-cooked pork?" His voice trembled, "No, boss, you're too..."

The third delivery guy didn't have time to mock anymore, devouring the dishes on his plate like a whirlwind, even more desperately than when he usually delivered food.

Liu Yang watched this scene, unable to hide the smile on the corner of his mouth.

He hadn't been stingy in Michelin-starred restaurants before – after all, he was a spoiled rich second-generation.

But those exquisitely arranged dishes and particular ingredients, compared to the expressions on these diners' faces, were as pale as plastic flowers compared to real ones.

The feeling of being genuinely praised was more addictive than his previous extravagant days.

Seeing the heartfelt surprise on the diners' faces, he suddenly felt that this was the real Michelin – a taste that could evoke memories.

The day was like a battle, Liu Yang was so busy he didn't even have time to wipe his sweat.

The "ding" of the system kept ringing like a timer, and he didn't have time to count how many times it dinged before he had to deal with the next order.

After closing in the evening, he slumped in his chair, as limp as a boiled noodle.

But thinking of today's earnings, he sat up straight as if injected with adrenaline.

His hand trembled as he took out the money earned in a day – counting every cent, he became more and more excited~

Then he took out the account book from the drawer, which used to be for drawing circles to pass the time, with even two-digit numbers being rare.

Today, as he counted the money and kept the accounts, the numbers made his eyes widen, and he rubbed his eyes hard to make sure he wasn't mistaken.

A total of 4670 yuan!

"If it weren't for so much cash in front of me, I'd think I was dreaming,"

he muttered to himself, "In the past, this shop, making a hundred or eighty was like celebrating the New Year."

Suddenly he remembered something, then took out a piece of paper.

"System, let's start counting from scratch," he wrote and muttered, "Two reward points..."

"Eight..."

Liu Yang's pen scratched on the paper, as serious as if writing some important document.

"In the afternoon, let me count... five people, a total of... oh, so many dishes!"

He occasionally stopped to count on his fingers. His expression was like a primary school student counting pocket money.

When he wrote the last number, his eyes widened more than the sign at the door – a full twenty reward points!

"Ding! The host has completed the task ahead of schedule and exceeded the target, with an additional reward of 10 reward points!"

"Current reward points: 30/100"

"Thirty? Th-thirty reward points?" Liu Yang's voice was as unstable as his previous cooking skills, almost biting his own tongue. He stood in the empty shop, like a lottery winner who had just won five million but couldn't believe it, counting the numbers on the paper over and over.

He rubbed his eyes and pinched his arm – this couldn't be a dream. After all, he had only gotten his first reward point from a bowl of noodles, and today alone...

"Could it be that the system has also learned the TikTok triple connection?"

When he finally came to his senses, he looked around the dilapidated shop and suddenly felt full of energy. This shop could no longer make do.

"These tables and chairs, tut-tut," he touched those old companions that had been with him for half a year, "It's time to retire. You have witnessed my evolution from dark cuisine to Michelin, your merit is complete."

He took out his phone and started researching the budget for renovation: "The floor definitely needs to be changed, it can grow mushrooms..."

His fingers quickly tapped on the calculator, frowning for a while, then relaxing.

"The wall tiles should also be changed," he muttered, "This grease is almost a cultural relic, if not dealt with, it might be collected by a museum."

But what troubled him the most was the issue of manpower. Today, he felt his hands were even more sore than the dumbbells in a gym. "I need to hire a helper," he looked at his red palms, "If this continues, I'm afraid I'll be cooked before the dishes."

But then he thought, with the knowledge given by the system, teaching a helper shouldn't be difficult. "Even if I can't teach Michelin-level skills, at least I can ensure the kitchen won't be blown up..."

As he thought about it, he suddenly laughed. Who would have thought that the rich second-generation who couldn't even cook soup properly half a year ago is now seriously considering how to open a decent restaurant?