Chapter 8 — Bakery After the Rain

"You use it, I'll call a car." She held the handle of the umbrella, her voice was very soft. "I'm sorry about today." "I had a very bad attitude before when I came to the store." I looked at her. "What you should apologize for is not your attitude." Manh Tinh bowed her head. "I know." "I was told too much by him, I really thought you were the type of person who wouldn't let go." "But you're not." Rainwater dripped from the edge of the umbrella and landed on the toes of her shoes. I said: "In the future, you look at people, don't just listen to what he says." "Look at how he treats people in a weak position." "Look at how he handles debt." Manh Tinh smiled bitterly. "Now I remember." As soon as she finished speaking, Giang Nghien suddenly walked over. "Tinh Tinh, let's talk." Manh Tinh took a step back. "There's nothing to say." "We're finished." Giang Nghien's face was a bit stiff. He glanced at me, as if he was counting this debt on me again. "Are you two satisfied?" "One person wants to destroy my education, the other wants to destroy my feelings." "What do I owe you guys?" I almost burst out laughing. But Manh Tinh spoke first. "I owe her four years of sincerity and money." "I owe you the truth." "I owe you one admission." Giang Nghien stared at her, his eyes turned from anger to indifference. "Does your father know you're that stupid?" Manh Tinh's whole body trembled. This sentence hurts people more than screaming. Finally, she clearly saw what was hidden under Giang Nghien's gentle shell. I reached out and pulled her. "Go." Giang Nghien said behind her: "On Duong, don't be happy too soon." "Is your shop clean? You know in your heart." My steps stopped. His mother immediately continued. "Yes!" "Her store definitely has a problem." "Tomorrow I will go complain." I turned to look at the mother and son. "Welcome." "Food safety, fire prevention, tax, you can complain about any category you want." "But you guys best think carefully, slanderous accusations are also responsible." Giang Nghien smiled coldly. "Do you think business people can handle being inspected?" This sentence is like a fight. The cold wind blew the rain into my face. I don't say anymore. After getting in the car, Manh Tinh sent a text message. My dad just told me that what the hospital is checking is not the source of the money. I stared at the screen. The next message popped up very quickly. It's that someone anonymously submitted documents about Jiang Nghien's unusual thesis data. My heart sank. It turned out that he was in a hurry to find me, not just because the money was cut off. There was also a larger mine that exploded. When I arrived at the store, I didn't immediately go home. I turned on the lights, checked the door locks and cameras. There are still traces of Giang Nghien's mother's hand on the glass door. I took a wet towel and wiped it little by little. Cakes in the refrigerator neatly arranged. An ice cream puppy lay in the middle of an eight-inch cake, the tip of its nose dotted with chocolate, looking silly. I looked at it, my tense shoulders relaxed a bit. The phone suddenly vibrated. It's a strange account sent a link. The title is very difficult to read. The owner of a dumpling shop raised a male student for four years, and after breaking up, she maliciously accused him of ruining his future. I clicked. The article does not include my full name, but does post a photo of the shop. There's also a sneaky photo of me bowing my head while packing behind the counter. Comments have gone up a few dozen lines. Someone scolded me for being an old woman. Someone said my cake was definitely not clean. Someone said they wanted to go to the store to check it out. I held the phone, my fingertips cold. Tieu Vien's phone immediately rang. Her voice trembled. "Miss Duong, have you seen?" "Someone has posted our shop online." "What should we do tomorrow?" I looked at the comments getting faster and faster on the screen, took a deep breath. "Open as usual." "But don't come first tomorrow." Tieu Vien

impatiently. "Why?" "I'm afraid they'll break into the shop." Her voice was choked. "What about you?" I went into the back kitchen, turned off the light next to the main water valve. "This is my shop." "You can't hide." After hanging up, I took a screenshot of the article, saved the website, and then contacted a familiar lawyer. The other party quickly responded, telling me not to respond and to fix the evidence first. At one o'clock in the morning, I locked the door and went home. But the next morning at six o'clock, as soon as I reached the end of the street, I saw a dozen people standing in front of the store. Someone holding a phone livestreamed. Someone splashed coffee on the glass window. In the middle of the glass door was a white sheet of paper. Write on paper with a red oil pen. Women have black hearts, get out of this street. 10I stood at the beginning of the street, in my hand still carrying strawberries that I had just bought from the market. The sides of the plastic bag were filled with water, and the red berries were crowded together, like a silent wound bag. There were more people in front of the store than I expected. Someone held up the phone and turned the window. Someone deliberately pointed the lens at that white piece of paper, his voice excited as if he had discovered a new prey. "Did you all see, it's this shop." "The female owner took care of the male students, broke up and denounced the person's thesis, and even pretended to be the victim." "Who would dare to eat this kind of person's cake."