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Chapter 5 - Good Wine Is Not Afraid of Deep Alleys, but if You Don’t Know Its Value, Stir-Fried Noodles Can’t Compare to Oden.
Chapter 5 - Good Wine Is Not Afraid of Deep Alleys, but if You Don’t Know Its Value, Stir-Fried Noodles Can’t Compare to Oden.
Chapter 5 Good Wine Is Not Afraid of Deep Alleys, but if You Don’t Know Its Value, Stir-Fried Noodles Can’t Compare to Oden.
A brand-new food cart turned into the alley next to the Spicy Girl Hotpot restaurant at 5:15 p.m in Changlin Road University Town.
By the time Lu Qin arrived with his daughter in tow, the best spots were already taken. The prime locations near the alley’s entrance had long been claimed. As luck would have it, one of those stalls was also selling stir-fried noodles.
The middle-aged, greasy man running that stall glanced at Lu Qin’s new sign but paid it little mind. Food stalls were easy to set up, so competition was fierce. However, after running his stall for five years, this vendor had built a solid reputation and a loyal customer base. His stir-fried rice noodles were fragrant, spicy, and chewy—a favorite among the university students.
Lu Qin parked his food cart about 50 meters away from the entrance, where only a few scattered stalls stood. These vendors, arriving late, knew that being stuck at the back might hurt their business.
But Lu Qin didn’t seem to mind. Even if the location wasn’t great, he firmly believed that good wine is not afraid of deep alleys.
After parking the cart, he gently patted his daughter’s head.
“Yao Yao, we’ll set up shop here and sell our stir-fried noodles.”
Her eyes lit up with excitement. It was her first time at the night market. Usually, Lu Qin took her to big shopping malls, but she had grown tired of them. This bustling market was a whole new experience, and all along the way, she kept exclaiming, “Wow! Wow!”
“Daddy, Yao Yao will help too.”
She was eager to pitch in, helping arrange takeout boxes with a focused expression. The nearby vendors, mostly older men and women, couldn’t help but glance at this young man and his adorable, well-behaved daughter.
Seeing young people setting up food stalls wasn’t uncommon these days. Stories of ‘Young Man Makes Thousands a Day with His Food Stall—Better than an Office Job!’ or ‘Couple Buys Two City-Center Houses Selling Street Food’ frequently made headlines. Yet, in reality, very few could make that kind of money. Most just hovered around breaking even.
By 5:35 PM, Lu Qin finished setting up his stall. The evening dusk had settled in, and the university town was coming to life with people out for dinner and shopping. The stalls at the entrance of the alley were already buzzing with customers.
“Boss, one stir-fried rice noodles, extra spicy.”
“One multi-grain pancake with pork tenderloin and hot dog—no lettuce.”
“Some skewers, please. I’ll take chicken wings, shrimp, leeks, and grasshoppers…”
Gradually, more diners showed up—young couples, families, grandparents with grandchildren. Yet, very few ventured to the far end of the alley where Lu Qin’s stall stood. The food was similar across the stalls—grilled skewers, fried noodles, cold dishes—and since taste didn’t vary much, location made all the difference.
Half an hour passed, and Lu Qin hadn’t served a single customer. The man selling oden next to him was doing slightly better, having served a couple of customers earlier, though his business had slowed too.
With not much else to do, the uncle struck up a conversation with Lu Qin.
“Hey, young man, new to this? First time running a stall?”
“Yeah, it’s my first time here,” Lu Qin replied with a polite nod.
“No worries, everyone’s got to start somewhere. Just come earlier next time to grab a good spot. Get a prime location, and business will follow.”
He glanced at the little girl beside Lu Qin. “Your daughter? She’s so well-behaved and cute. My girl’s in fifth grade. Before I came out today, I was helping her with some homework. Some math problem about chickens and ducks in a cage—it had both me and her mom pulling our hair out. That’s why I was late setting up tonight…”
Lu Qin smiled, exchanging some casual banter with him.
“Daddy, I’m hungry,” his daughter, Lu Xiyao, said, rubbing her small belly. It was clear she had missed dinner.
The uncle noticed and offered kindly, “Your little one’s hungry, huh? Here, have some of my oden.”
He scooped out a skewer of fish balls and tempura, offering it to her for free. She was just too cute to resist.
“Thank you, uncle, but I want to eat what my daddy makes,” she replied, her eyes fixed on her father.
Lu Qin smiled and declined the offer gently. “Thanks for the kindness, but it looks like my girl’s set on having stir-fried noodles.”
The uncle chuckled, pulling back the food. “Little one, you don’t know what you’re missing! Stir-fried noodles can’t compare to my oden.”
Children usually adore food on skewers—candied fruit, oden, grilled chicken. Stir-fried noodles, being more of a basic staple, rarely excite their imaginations.
“But my daddy’s cooking is the best!”
Lu Xiyao clung to Lu Qin’s arm, proudly standing by her father’s side.
The uncle chuckled, amused by her loyalty, but skeptical. How good could stir-fried noodles really be? After all, Old Liu at the alley entrance had been selling his noodles for five or six years, and they were nothing special—too greasy, too heavy.
Lu Qin tied on his apron and fired up the stove. With the spatula in hand, his entire demeanor shifted, entering a state of focus. His movements became smooth, almost instinctive. He poured cold oil into the hot wok.
Sizzle!
The aroma of minced garlic and small chili peppers burst into the air. He cracked an egg into the wok, breaking it apart with the spatula’s back. Then, the rice noodles followed, sizzling against the iron surface. Despite using a large 16-inch wok, Lu Qin never fried more than three portions at once. Overcrowding the wok would ruin the flavor.
As he stir-fried over high heat, he added bean sprouts, garlic shoots, and strips of ham. Stir-fried noodles seem simple, but their perfection lies in the details. Stirring over high heat for just two minutes can bring out the wok hei (the breath of the wok), a flavor that defines a great dish. But if the heat, stirring speed, or seasonings aren’t precisely balanced, the taste suffers. This simplicity is deceiving, it’s in mastering these small techniques where the dish either succeeds or fails. The fragrant aroma filled the air, and soon a plate of tender, savory stir-fried noodles was ready.
The uncle selling oden couldn’t help but swallow hard. Regret flashed across his face as he remembered his earlier skepticism. The noodles not only looked fantastic, they smelled divine. He hadn’t expected this young man to be so skilled. The sauce’s rich aroma alone made him think these noodles would definitely outshine Old Liu’s stir-fried noodles at the entrance.
Xiyao, her impatience stoked by the enticing aroma, raised her little hands high.
“Daddy, it smells so good! Yaoyao is hungry!” She squealed.
Lu Qin split the dish into two portions, one for himself and one for his daughter, and they dug in immediately.
“Wow! This is so yummy!”
Her eyes sparkled as she chewed, speaking through a mouthful of noodles.
“Slow down, don’t choke.”
Though Lu Qin gave a gentle reminder, the noodles were far from dry or tough. They were perfectly smooth and springy, thanks to his quick stir-frying technique—a skill that required precision. Had his timing been off, the noodles could’ve turned mushy, ruining their texture.
The uncle next to them, watching the father and daughter eat with such joy, felt his own mouth water.
Goodness, why do these noodles smell so amazing?
Even though he had eaten dinner just an hour ago, a pang of hunger struck him again.
“Uh… young man, these noodles of yours look really good. Could I have a plate too?”
Lu Qin paused, wiping his mouth with a napkin before nodding. “Sure.”
Xiyao wanted to chime in with, “Uncle, you’ve got good taste,” but with her mouth full of noodles, she simply kept eating in silence, a happy smile on her face.
…