Ten years ago, downstairs there was a couple— the man drove long-distance freight trucks, and the woman set up a stall at the entrance to an elementary school.

The two of them were really honest: the pancake wrappers were rolled thick, and the pork tenderloin and grilled sausages all used branded goods. They even charged five hundred less than other people. Naturally, students all loved to buy from them.
Their daughter was even more promising—she got into a well-known university in Beijing.
During that time, the whole residential community kept praising their family. The couple always wore smiles on their faces. When they set up their stall, whenever someone came by, they would hand out bottles of mineral water, and for the students who came often they would add extra sausage and eggs for free—saying they wanted to “catch” a bit of their daughter’s good fortune.
In less than half a month, three students who ate their hand-grabbed pancakes ended up vomiting and having diarrhea and were taken to the hospital.
The market supervision authority immediately sealed off the stall, and in the remaining batter they found dish soap and saliva.
The couple was stunned. Every day, when they finished closing up and packed away for the day, they locked the food ingredients in a custom-made sheet-metal cabinet. There were only two keys—one for each of them—so how could something like this happen?
It wasn’t until the property management pulled up the surveillance footage that they found out: the one who did this was Liu Aunt from across the hall. Usually, she smiled at everyone with a twinkle in her eyes. She was so close to the aunt who sold pancakes, they were practically like sisters. Every day they shopped for groceries together and even went square dancing together.
The surveillance showed that for seven consecutive days, at 2 a.m., she used the matched key to open the sheet-metal cabinet, then squeezed dish soap and spat into the fresh batter.
When the police took her away, she showed not a trace of guilt. Instead, she put her hands on her hips and shouted around the neighborhood: “Who let their family have such a smooth life? The man can earn money, and their daughter still got into a great university—why should all the good things belong to their family? I just can’t stand it!”
What was most chilling was this: she had absolutely no interest-based conflict with this family. She didn’t sell breakfast, and the daughter wasn’t even in the same cohort of students. Even when her son was looking for a job, it was the man who helped him pull strings to find connections.
If she did all this, she wouldn’t get a single cent of benefit, and she was still risking going to prison. The only purpose was to completely ruin this family’s good days.