All-rounder Artist-Chapter 313 - 292 Warm and Cold _1

Chapter 313: Chapter 292 Warm and Cold _1

Opportunity!

The word suddenly flashed in Shen Jiarui’s mind.

What was Chu Kuang’s coup de grace?

That’s right, it was his knack for delivering an unexpected, even shattering, ending to a short story!

Faced with such an ending, readers often applaud helplessly!

And such stories were always the most popular among readers.

Because they provide readers with a kind of intense mental stimulation!

So, these types of stories were also the most suitable for vying for the top prize on the platform.

In contrast, narrative stories did not have a similar effect, and the shock factor was much smaller in the face of such a huge reversal from the opponent.

“Could it be that Chu Kuang is intentionally trying out a new writing method?”

Shen Jiarui speculated for a moment, then dismissed it, not dwelling over it, and even feeling a bit excited.

If Chu Kuang didn’t write in his best genre, then Shen Jiarui thought, there might really be a chance for him to turn the tables!

That idea flashed through his mind.

The reading continued: [“Ah… Spring Noodles… one bowl… can we have one?” The woman asked shyly. The two little boys were hiding behind their mother, also looking at the lady boss timidly.]

The background was a Beihai Noodle Shop on New Year’s Eve.

A woman took her two children to the noodle shop, but only ordered one bowl of spring noodles?

Without any analysis, it was clear that the family was hard-pressed.

However, the next plot was heartwarming:

[On the workbench, there was already a preparation of noodles stacked like small hills, one pile for one person. The owner grabbed a pile and then added half a pile more and put it all in the pot. The lady boss instantly understood that this was extra given by her husband for this family of three.]

The owner was a good man.

He noticed the hardship of the mother and her two children, so he intentionally added more noodles.

As the steaming bowl of scrumptious spring noodles was placed on the table, the family of three immediately gathered around the bowl and started to eat, their heads touching.

The corner of Shen Jiarui’s mouth unconsciously curved upward, as if the scene of the mother and children eating noodles played out in his mind.

“It’s so delicious!” the elder brother said.

“Mama, you should eat too!” the younger brother picked up a chopstick filled with noodles and fed it to his mother.]

Then, it was the second year.

After the tenth hour of New Year’s Eve, just as the noodle shop was about to close, the door was pulled open again.

The woman, wearing the same clothes as last year, came in with the two boys.

“Can we… have one bowl of spring noodles… please?”

The owner and the lady boss instantly recognized the family of three and, as they did last year, led them to table number two.

The owner, like last year, grabbed one-and-a-half serving of noodles to cook.

The lady boss, though, couldn’t help suggesting; “Hey, hubby, why don’t we give them three bowls instead?”

“No.”

The owner refused his wife: “If we do that, they might feel embarrassed.”

Shen Jiarui was deeply moved.

The owner and the lady boss were as kind as ever.

What’s more, the owner was even considerate enough to preserve the dignity of the family, thus resisting the urge to give them more.

After finishing the meal.

They paid fifteen dollars for a bowl of spring noodles.

The lady boss waved them off, calling out; “Thank you, have a great New Year!”

Shen Jiarui had to admit it.

He was somewhat warmed by the kindness of the noodle shop’s owner and his wife.

What would happen next?

Shen Jiarui was curious to find out.

The business of the increasingly popular Beihai Noodle Shop ushered in its third New Year’s Eve.

The description here was quite interesting:

[Starting at half-past nine, both the owner and his wife seemed preoccupied, though none of them uttered a word. As soon as the shift of the workers ended shortly after ten, they swiftly turned over the tags indicating the prices of various noodles on the wall and hastily wrote “Spring Noodles 15 yuan”.]

Originally, as the prices began to rise that summer, the price of a bowl of Spring Noodles had already become 20 yuan.

Table number two.

About 30 minutes earlier, the wife had already placed a “Reserved” sign on the table.

By half-past ten, there weren’t any customers left in the shop, but the owner and his wife were still waiting for the arrival of that mother and her two sons.

At last, the mother and her sons arrived.

The elder brother was wearing a school uniform, while the younger one was wearing the slightly oversized old clothes that his elder brother wore last year. The brothers had grown up and seemed unfamiliar. However, the mother was still wearing the same off-season, faded short coat.

Shen Jiarui was overcome with emotion, thinking, this is what motherly love looks like.

The story does not delineate it in plain words, but the details speak volumes:

The clothes of her two sons seemed to change every year, but each time this mother appeared, she was “wearing the same off-season, somewhat faded short coat”.

For reasons unknown, Shen Jiarui felt a sour sensation creeping up his heart at this point.

It was here that the story finally introduced the situation of this mother and her two sons.

From the dialogue between the mother and her sons, the owners learned about their situation:

It turned out, their father had died in a traffic accident, but the debt he left behind had to be carried by his wife.

Over the years, the mother had been repaying that debt, thus their rare luxury on New Year’s Eve was to order a bowl of Spring Noodles at a noodle shop.

The two sons were very sensible too.

Her youngest son even wrote an essay at school: [My father died in a traffic accident and left behind a large debt. My mother works tirelessly from dawn till dusk to repay the money. I help her by delivering morning and evening newspapers… on the night of December thirty-first, the three of us shared a bowl of Spring Noodles which tasted amazing… Even though we only ordered one bowl of noodles for the three of us, the uncles and aunties at the noodle shop warmly welcomed us, thanked us, and wished us a good year. When I heard their well-wishes, it was clear to me what they meant: Don’t give up! Keep going! Stay strong! Hence, when I grow up, I would like to run a large noodle shop and say to my customers: ‘Keep going!’ ‘Wish you happiness!’…]

That evening, the mother and her two sons ordered two bowls of Spring Noodles.

The owner immediately prepared three servings of noodles.

Suddenly, Shen Jiarui rubbed his eyes which had started to turn red.

Thirty yuan was the price for those two bowls of Spring Noodles.

The story continues in this seemingly mundane narrative, progressing slowly.

In the subsequent years, the couple who ran Beihai Noodle Shop would always reserve table number two on New Year’s Eve, but the mother and her two sons never showed up again.

A bit later on.

Thanks to a thriving business, the Beihai Noodle Shop underwent a renovation.

Tables and chairs were updated with new styles, but table number two remained the same.

The owners didn’t find it out of place, instead, they placed table number two in the middle of their shop.

When customers inquired about the reason behind it, the owners did not hide anything.

And thus, the story about table number two turned it into “the table of happiness”.

The customers repeatedly shared this story.

Some even traveled long distances just to get here.

Some were female students, and there were young couples as well, all wanting to have a bowl of Spring Noodles at table number two.

The reputation of table number two grew tremendously because of this.

Finally, after ten years, the mother and her two sons reappeared.

By this time, both brothers had made a good living and the mother had finally put on a new down coat.

The mother and her two sons specifically thanked the owners:

“We were the customers who had shared a bowl of Spring Noodles on New Year’s Eve, fourteen years ago. It was this bowl of Spring Noodles and the encouragement that got us through the tough times.”

Shen Jiarui bit his lip, as if holding back some kind of emotion.

However, all his emotions fell apart with just one sentence.

Just because of a single, simple phrase spoken by the mother:

“Manager, three Spring Noodles.”

As if it was a ten-year appointment they were expected to show up for.

The story also mentioned: [“Okay.” He wanted to reply as such, but the husband couldn’t answer, tears running down his face.]

Outside the story.

Shen Jiarui wiped his tears and suddenly felt that the last hint of cold in the air had been dispelled by the breath of spring.