Chapter 1The $5 Wonton

I was working a summer job at a KFC. After my shift, I was still in my uniform when I went to the noodle shop next door and ordered a bowl of wontons.

I was about to add some of the free toppings from the self-serve bar when the owner blocked my path.

“The $5 promotional bowl doesn't include the free toppings.”

Wanting to avoid trouble, I didn't argue and went back to my seat.

But when I reached for the vinegar on the table, she snatched it away.

“This bottle of vinegar costs thirty dollars. It’s not for poor people like you to drink.”

“You’re a service worker yourself, you should know these things.”

“Tomorrow, I’m going to talk to your manager and have you fired.”

I couldn't take it anymore. I flipped the table. The bowl, chopsticks, and condiment bottles shattered on the floor.

The owner, seeing my fury, threatened me.

“I’m warning you, my son-in-law is from one of the richest families on the East Coast. If you mess with me, I’ll make sure your whole family pays!”

She pulled out her phone to make a call, but I suddenly froze.

That emerald bracelet on her wrist… why did it look exactly like the one I gave my girlfriend last week?

* * *

I was exhausted and starving. Luckily, with all the delivery apps in a price war, I’d gotten a $30 bowl of wonton soup for a $5 promotional price.

The shop’s self-serve bar had a huge "Free Toppings" sign, with all sorts of garnishes and an extra soup pot.

But as I reached for the chili oil, the owner stopped me.

“The $5 promo doesn't get free toppings.”

I pointed to the sign. “But it says 'Free Toppings' right there.”

She sneered. “Not for promo customers. I’m already losing money on a $5 bowl. You think I can let you take toppings, too? How am I supposed to stay in business?”

Fine. I’ve always been easygoing, and I could even see her point. I went back to my table, deciding to just eat the plain wontons.

I saw the bottle of black vinegar and figured adding a splash wouldn't be a problem.

The second I picked it up, she rushed over and grabbed it out of my hand.

“That vinegar costs thirty dollars. It’s not for poor people on a $5 promo.”

I started to get angry. “You’re the one who set up the promotion. Now I can’t even use the table vinegar?”

She looked me up and down, sizing up my KFC uniform. Her spittle nearly landed in my bowl.

“Do you know how hard it is to run a business? You’re just a service worker, you should understand! In fact, I don't think you should be a service worker at all. Tomorrow, I’m going to your manager and getting you fired!”

Stepping back only makes you angrier. I was done being patient.

I stood up and, with a loud crash, flipped the entire table over.

“If you’re so cheap you have to guard a bottle of vinegar, why are you even running a restaurant? You should be begging on the street!”

“And you’re going to pull rank on me? We’re both service workers. The second I clock out, I’m a customer. You’re the one who can’t afford to honor your own promotion. You’re pathetic. You deserve to fail.”

She was stunned by my outburst and staggered back.

“I’m warning you! My son-in-law is an heir to the Gu family! If you trash my store, I’ll have your entire family ruined!”

Hilarious. My family is the Gu family.

The only reason I was working at a KFC was because I’d made a bet with my older brother. If I could hold a normal job for two months, he’d pay for my trip to Barcelona.

I had no idea this kind of blatant class discrimination still existed.

She was dialing her phone, furious. I was about to call my own backup, but my eyes locked onto her wrist.

That bracelet. Why did it look exactly like the one I gave my girlfriend, Jessica, last week?