There is a noodle shop downstairs from my house.

It has been open for fifteen years.
In the past, the menu was posted on the wall,
Beef noodles were eighteen, fried sauce noodles fifteen, scallion noodles eight yuan.
At noon, there was a long line, all from nearby construction sites.
Last year, the owner changed.
The new owner tore down the menu,
Replaced it with a leather, gold-embossed menu.
Beef noodles ninety-eight, truffle fried sauce noodles one hundred twenty, scallion noodles gone.
Replaced with scallion oil mixed noodles, eighty-eight.
Hanged on the wall was a calligraphy: Craftsmanship by hand.
The construction workers stopped coming.
No more lines at noon.
When I passed by, I thought, this shop is going to close.
Last month, I ran into the new owner.
He was driving a Cayenne.
I asked, business is good?
He said, previously, they sold three hundred bowls a day, earning five yuan per bowl.
Now, they sell sixty bowls a day, earning eighty yuan per bowl.
Three hundred bowls earned fifteen hundred.
Sixty bowls earn forty-eight hundred.
He snuffed out his cigarette.
"Back then, those queuing up would add soup to their noodles three times.
Now, these people order a bottle of red wine worth three hundred without blinking."
After he left, I took a look inside.
A few people were sitting in the shop.
Wearing suits.
Red wine on the table.
The noodles hadn't moved much.