Doting Marriage: Return Of The Real Miss Gu

By noon, the breakfast rush had finally tapered off.

The last of the morning customers had trickled out, clutching their takeout boxes and wiping broth from the corners of their mouths.

The shop was quiet again, for the first time since dawn.

Mianmian tied her apron tighter and stepped out from behind the counter. With steady hands, she pulled down the chalkboard hanging near the door and wiped it clean.

The scent of vinegar and soy still lingered in the air, but the pots were empty, and the flatbreads were all gone.

She picked up a piece of chalk and wrote in neat strokes:

Lunch Hours: 12PM – 4PM

Below it, she added the dishes for the lunch menu, sesame oil chicken noodles, stir-fried chive dumplings, seasonal cold dishes, and soy-braised eggs.

There was a brief pause before she added one more line beneath it:

Dinner Hours: 6PM – 9PM

"There..." she murmured under her breath, then hung the board back up with a quiet clink.

From the kitchen came the sound of simmering stock, a deeper, heartier broth than the one she used for breakfast.

She'd started it the night before, letting it bubble down with bones and ginger. Now, she stirred in new aromatics: star anise, peppercorn, a touch of rock sugar.

The scent shifted from bright and savory to rich and comforting.

Outside, the line had thinned, but word still floated through the street.

A few people lingered near the shopfront, reading the new menu.

Some scribbled down the hours.

A delivery boy poked his head in.

"Still open?"

Mianmian smiled faintly. "Lunch starts now."

He grinned, then disappeared, only to return minutes later with two office workers trailing behind.

Back in the kitchen, she began prepping again.

The eggs needed peeling, the bamboo shoots slicing.

She worked quickly, methodically, while the midday light poured in through the open windows.

There was no music playing. No chatter yet. Just the soft clink of metal against wood, and the rhythmic beat of her knife against the board.

As the clock struck 12:05, the sun climbed higher, casting long rectangles of light across the tiled floor.

The air outside had warmed, and with it came the scent of stewed bones and garlic oil drifting from Wanwei Lou's open windows.

People began to trickle in again.

Some were the same curious faces from earlier, returning after breakfast for a second round. Others had missed the morning entirely but came because they'd heard the buzz, from co-workers, neighbors, the shopkeeper two stalls down who swore the pickled vegetables were better than his own wife's.

"Lunch started already?" a man asked, wiping sweat from his brow as he stepped inside.

Mianmian nodded. "Menu's on the wall."

He glanced up, whistling under his breath at the options. "Not bad for a first day…"

Within minutes, the tables began to fill again. Office workers on break, two elderly uncles with their sleeves rolled up, and a pair of college girls still in uniform, sliding into a corner seat.

A young mother came in, holding her toddler in one arm. Mianmian saw her hesitate at the door and spoke before she could ask.

"There's congee with shredded chicken. And a smaller portion if he wants something soft."

The woman blinked, relieved. "You've really thought of everything haha."

Mianmian just gave a small nod.

"You can pay after."

Outside, a new line had formed,not as long as the morning one, but steady.

A boy from the tailor shop fanned himself with a flyer as he waited, muttering about how it was too hot to cook and how his boss had insisted on noodles before fittings.

The new takeout method helped. Mianmian had placed a small wooden sign near the door:

Takeout Available: Add 1 yuan per box. Limit 2 per person.

An older woman read it aloud, then turned to the group behind her. "That's reasonable. Cheaper than anything near the station."

Several nodded in agreement.

A few takeout orders were quickly filled, noodles packed tightly, with fresh scallions and a side of radish slices tucked in.

Inside the kitchen, Mianmian didn't slow down. The lunch broth had thickened just right. She ladled it into bowls with practiced hands, adding oil-slicked chili on top when asked.

A man near the window slurped his noodles noisily and leaned over to his companion. "Better than the big shops. She knows how to season and has good customer service.."

Another woman whispered "This is what I missed when my grandma passed away. Simple food that tastes like home and isn't expensive to get.."

Mianmian overheard some of it and only smiled.

Her face didn't show much, but there was a quiet pride in the way she moved, her posture straighter and her motions more fluid.

She didn't speak often, just offered a smile or nod here and there. But it was clear she was listening.

At the counter, a man hesitated before paying, eyeing the coins in his palm.

"You can take the cold vegetables off.." he mumbled.

Mianmian tapped the wrapped bowl gently and pushed it forward. "You ordered it. So eat it."

He blinked. Then smiled, sheepishly. "Thank you."

The lunch crowd was different from the breakfast one: more middle-aged workers, a few office ladies on break, and students with loose change saved up.

But just as Mianmian placed another bowl down at a side table, the door opened with a loud chime.

"So this is what you're wasting your time on?"

Mianmian didn't even have to turn around.

Bai Shi's voice could curdle milk.

She turned slowly, wiping her hands on her apron. Bai Shi stood there in her usual soft pink blouse, stiff at the shoulders, the kind that always looked expensive from far away but up close had visible fray along the collar.

Her hair was sprayed into place, and a gold clip held it back like it was too precious to be touched by wind.

Behind her, Gu Xuelan sauntered in with that familiar upturned chin, a plastic pearl purse looped over her elbow like she was entering a fashion show.

Her qipao was patterned with red hibiscus, but the hem was stiff, and the fabric was too shiny to be real silk.

The customers quieted. Some leaned in closer. Others outright stopped chewing.

Mianmian raised a brow. "Didn't expect you to come."

"Neither did I.." Bai Shi sniffed. "But I thought it'd be a shame not to see it for myself. My husband's daughter selling noodles to strangers like a peddler."