“Sorry about that, we’re short by four. Would you mind waiting for the next batch?”

The short, chubby customer glanced at the mountain of buns, then suddenly let out a cold laugh. “Short is short. The extra money is a tip for you.” As he spoke, he pulled out three copper coins from his pocket and deliberately waved them in front of Mr. Brooks, as if he were offering some great favor. Taking advantage so brazenly, William Turner couldn’t help but give a thumbs up.

“What a damn piece of work!”

Chapter 3: Inscription

“Wait!”

Mr. Brooks hurriedly called out, “Sir, you haven’t paid yet!”

The guy buying the buns looked to be about fifty, short and fat, with a round, fleshy face that seemed about to burst out of its skin, and tiny eyes that were just slits, gleaming with a crafty light.

He gave Mr. Brooks a contemptuous smile. “What, isn’t the bun money right there?”

Mr. Brooks forced down his anger and put on a fawning smile. “Sir, the buns are one copper each. You wanted thirty, but we only have twenty-six for you. How about this, just twenty-five coins. You’ve only given three, so there’s still twenty-two left. Please, have some pity on us, we’re just a small business, please understand…”

Before he could finish, a thunderous shout came from inside the shop.

“John Brooks, you’re giving away my buns again! If you have money, eat buns. If you don’t, get lost! Not a single coin less!” The legendary Mrs. Brooks came rushing over, carrying a steaming basket, set it on the pot, and in a flash was standing in front of the customer. Hands on her hips, she looked him up and down, then let out a cold laugh.

“Sir, we’re not afraid of big eaters. If you buy, we’re happy. But if you don’t pay and want to take advantage, you’d better ask what kind of temper I have!”

Her reputation was well-deserved. As soon as Mrs. Brooks showed up, all the diners fell silent. Only William Turner didn’t care, munching on buns with oil dripping down his chin, quietly picking up a small piece of charcoal.

The bun buyer wasn’t intimidated at all. He squinted his little eyes and coughed twice.

“I’m here to eat buns, not to be scolded. Are you running a shady shop?”

Mr. Brooks quickly shook his head, anxiously saying, “Sir, please don’t say that. Everyone knows we do honest business, fair prices…”

“Fair prices? When I came in, I clearly saw it was one copper for ten buns. Here’s three coins, buying twenty-six buns from you, you’re still making a profit. Are you trying to cheat me?”

“Bullshit!” Mrs. Brooks’s face darkened instantly.

“Open your damn eyes! Buns this big, one copper for ten? Why don’t I just give them away for free and earn a good reputation?” Mrs. Brooks unleashed her fury, rivaling a shrew.

“How would I know? Maybe you’re just ignorant. Sorry, I have things to do, I won’t keep you company.”

The guy turned to leave, and Mrs. Brooks was so angry her hair stood on end. She stomped her foot and yelled at Mr. Brooks, “You useless coward, why aren’t you stopping him for me?”

Mr. Brooks had no choice but to run over and block his way, bowing and pleading, “Sir, it’s not easy running a small business. Please don’t joke with us. Twenty-some copper coins, my wife and I can’t earn that in a day!”

The short, fat man didn’t care at all. He pushed Mr. Brooks aside and sneered, “I don’t care how much you make. The price is on your sign, you set it, not my problem. Move aside.”

“Fine! In all these years, I’ve never seen someone eat for free so shamelessly. You’ve really opened my eyes.” Suddenly, Mrs. Brooks grabbed a kitchen knife and leapt over in a few steps, more agile than a monkey.

“What are you doing, running a shady shop?” The short, fat man was starting to get scared.

“You got that right! I’m a shrew, and today I’ll chop you up for meat filling!” Mrs. Brooks cursed fiercely.

Just as things were about to get bloody, William Turner burst out laughing. “Uncle Brooks, he says the price is on the sign, so let’s take a good look at what it actually says!”

That’s right—his words reminded everyone. Mr. Brooks, his wife, and the other diners all looked up, and everyone was shocked. Mr. Brooks couldn’t help but read it out loud.

“Thousand, coins, ten, buns—it says a thousand coins for ten buns! Wh-what’s going on?”

“Idiot, you still don’t get it!” Mrs. Brooks rolled her eyes at her husband, jumped three feet high, and shouted with hands on her hips, “Ha! Now I know, these buns are really valuable. According to you, pay two thousand six hundred coins, and if you’re short by even one, I’ll take you to the magistrate!”

The short, fat man felt like he’d shot himself in the foot. Who the hell did this?

He hurried over, staring closely at the sign, then suddenly cried out.

“Look, everyone! That ‘thousand’ character was definitely altered—someone added two strokes, and it looks different from the rest!”

“Sharp eyes!” William Turner looked at him like he was an idiot and sneered, “Now look at the ‘ten’ after it—wasn’t an extra stroke added there too? If you want to play tricks, you have to accept the consequences. Pay up!”

“Well said!” Mrs. Brooks raised the gleaming kitchen knife in the air and grabbed the fat man’s collar.

“Pay up! Pay up!” she roared like a demon, spraying spittle all over his face.