My name is Tang Xiaofan, and my gender is female.

My dad Tang Sihai opened a "Old Tang Chicken Noodles" in the Huaihua Street Night Market. It opens at eight o'clock every night and stays open until two o'clock in the morning.

My mom thought my dad was a railroad worker, and he couldn't make a lot of money and got together a lot, so he ran away with another man when I was in elementary school. My dad learned the hard way and said that he must live as a person and then regroup the family.

In the first few years of his business, his business had not been good. Except for the rent, water and electricity, the rest of the money is not enough to maintain the daily expenses of our father and daughter.

Seeing my dad's anxious appearance, I said that my dad would stop studying and run a noodle shop with him.

"Go to school and make less trouble for me!"

My noodle shop is a small shop of about 30 square meters, and when this shop was rented, it was a full five meters high, and my father divided it into two, and the top two meters became our living place.

There are two bedrooms upstairs, each with more than ten square meters, which is more than enough for the two of us. The family's house is a tube building, and in order to save some money, my father rented it out to supplement the family.

As a result, in addition to being used for business, this noodle shop has also become a place where our father and daughter live.

My dad was also ingenious, and he built a noodle stove in front of the store, which was an open kitchen. Diners can also see how the food is prepared to indicate cleanliness and hygiene. In the shop behind the kitchen, there are five or six tables, and at the very end, there are two small rooms separated by my father, each about two or three square meters.

One is a bathroom, and the other has several half-meter-high jars, which contain red oil bean paste and kimchi, all of which are essential seasonings in the store.

When it was open, near the curb of the stove, there were several old-fashioned big red plastic basins, in which fresh fire crayfish, snails and other aquatic products were placed.

The main dish is chicken noodles, and the braised lobster and spicy snails are also signature dishes.

It is open from 8 o'clock at night to 2 o'clock in the morning, which is not a time of three meals a day, so our noodle shop is actually a "cold cup", in the words of the locals, "ghost food".

"Ghost diet" is not for ghosts.

This year, everyone has a few dollars in their hands, and the nightlife is naturally more colorful than before. Bars and teahouses are everywhere, and the Huaihua Street Night Market is such an entertainment gathering point.

The catering industry has little investment, and it is the first choice for doing business in the sea.

Therefore, at that time, there were more than 20 "ghost diets" in the night market of Huaihua Street. My dad Tang Sihai's chicken miscellaneous noodle shop is the most inconspicuous one of the night market restaurants.

At first, the business was very cold, and every night, my dad would sit in the small shop and watch the snack bars around him fill the market, and his own small shop was full of people.

It's hard to get tired and rewarding, and it's worth the hard work. What I'm afraid of is that if you are busy in vain and can't get anything, then the gains outweigh the losses.

He thought of a trick, since time can't fight others, then simply use "time for space".

He opened at seven for other businesses that were open at eight o'clock in the evening, and other shops were open until two in the morning, and he stayed for an hour or more until the surrounding teahouses and entertainment venues closed.

In this way, business is also barely strong.

But one day, I don't know what luck happened, and overnight, my family's business suddenly became popular.

It was overcrowded.

In short, before I could sell up to ten catties of dried noodles a day, now I can sell fifty catties a day and close the stall in advance. Every night, five or six tables were filled with diners, and my dad bought several folding tables, which he would eat at the door when there were more guests.

The snack bars around that used to have better business than our family gradually became cold. Later, the closure of the door, the closure of the business, after a long time, the "ghost diet" of the Huaihua Street Night Market was left with our "Old Tang Chicken Noodles" family.

Business is getting better, and my dad is very busy.

When there are more diners, the shop will be smaller. Someone suggested that my dad go and find a spacious shop to expand the business, or simply make a chain or something.

He waved his hand and said that there is not such a big ideal, it is good to have such an income, and when I can earn money after graduating from college, he will wash his hands of gold and retire.

I graduated from college, but I didn't expect that I would be so poor when I first entered the society. In the end, I can only guard this noodle shop, saying that it sounds like a woman inheriting her father's business, but in fact, it is gnawing the old.

My dad doesn't care, but I feel guilty when I think about it.

Summer is the season to eat crayfish, and those crimson things crawl around in the big red plastic basin. Squatting on the steps, I cleaned them up one by one.

I was already very clinker, so I removed the head, removed the shrimp line, washed it with water and salt five or six times, and did it in one go, right under the noses of the diners, and they were relieved.

A serving of eighteen crayfish, the price is seventy yuan, not cheap, our household is one or two up large crayfish, the purchase price is very high, so it is absolutely worth the money.

On the other side, my dad was stir-frying lobster seasoning, all kinds of spices, red oil bean paste, fragrant, and the small half pot was really lively.

The eighteen crayfish that have been taken care of are put into the pot, and the pot is even more boiling. Although it was already the middle of the night, the summer heat had not completely dissipated, and my dad was sweating profusely as he stood by the stove.

My dad glanced at the empty spice basin: "Little rice, go to the back compartment and get me some ginger." ”

I agreed, turned and went into the cubicle.

The lamp rope was pulled open, and seven or eight large jars filled the small cubicle. The stall with pickled ginger was on the outermost one, and I took out a piece of pickled ginger and fastened the lid of the altar I was about to leave, when I turned around and heard a strange sound.

It was the sound of the porcelain tiles colliding with the jars, and when I turned around, the stalls did not move.

At first, I thought it was rats moving, and it was normal for a rat to appear in a restaurant. But there can't be rats in this room, and kimchi bean paste is an important seasoning for chicken whistles, crayfish, and crucian carp. If a rat breaks a jar, it's in trouble.

I simply lay on the ground and looked carefully at the gap between the jars by the dim light.

Strangely, after that noise, the cubicle became surprisingly quiet, and I looked at it for a while, but still didn't notice anything.

Perhaps, I just misheard.

The noodle shop stays up late every night, and it is possible that there is a problem with the ears and auditory hallucinations.

When I walked to the door, my hand had just touched the doorknob, and I heard another "clang" behind me......