For the next week, business at my stall was absurdly good.
Not because my fish had suddenly become better. It was because the entire internet had become obsessed with searching for "the Fish-selling Wife from Jade Market."
The livestream Brian had posted had been clipped into hundreds of versions and reposted across every platform imaginable. The comment sections were flooded with people asking which stall I worked at.
One morning, while I was chopping fish, a helicopter flew over Jade Market. The rotor wash was so strong that it sent plastic bags from the vegetable stand across the aisle flying into the air.
Ethan was carrying a block of ice at the time.
He glanced up at the helicopter, frowned, and called out, "Brian."
He lowered the ice onto the ground.
"Block it."
Brian barely
