I quit my job at the restaurant. On my last day, the landlady wiped away tears as she said, "Xiao Huang, the heavens are truly blind—why do they only pick on good people? If you ever hit a rough patch later, you come to me. I'll help you out, you hear?" All I could do was say thank you.
Later, I took the money from my father-in-law and the cash Brother Liu had given me earlier, pooled it all together, and opened a small eatery. It sold rice bowls, wontons, and braised dishes—simple stuff. I named it Huang's Snacks.
The place wasn't big, just a dozen or so seats, and I handled everything myself. My mother-in-law stayed home to look after the baby. I'd get up at 5 a.m. to prep, close up at 8 p.m., and clear about 80 yuan in profit each day. Don't scoff at that 80 yuan—in 2000, a day laborer at a construction site only made 30 yuan. I was pulling in the equivalent of two and a half laborers. That was no small feat.
All in all, I'd make around 2,500 yuan a month—three times what I'd earned as a cook. At that rate, I figured I could save up a decent sum.
After running the place for seven or eight months, business picked up even more, thanks to my use of quality ingredients. By then, I was making over 3,000 yuan a month. Back then, I worked with real energy.