My sister can't cook. But she's more familiar with the vegetable market than anyone else.

She gets up at six every morning to buy groceries at the market. Not just one stall, but nine.
She consolidates the nine stalls into a package deal, preps the dishes, sets the price, and delivers it to the neighborhood entrance.
She sells to young white-collar workers who "don't want to go out to buy groceries but also don't want takeout."
She divides the package deals into three types: the lonely type, the couple type, and the shared rental type.
The lonely type includes one meat and one vegetable, for sixteen yuan.
The couple type has two meats and one vegetable, for thirty-five yuan.
The shared rental type includes three meats, two vegetables, and a soup, for fifty-nine yuan.
Each package includes a note.
The lonely type's note says: "You've worked hard today too."
The couple type's note says: "Don't argue over washing dishes."
The shared rental type's note says: "You don't have to wash after eating."
Her first order was from her own building's neighbors.
The second was from the property management.
The third was from the residents' group in a neighboring community.
Someone asked her why she doesn't do delivery platform services.
She said she won't.
Platforms take a cut, rank you, and offer cashback for good reviews.
She said, "I just want people to eat good meals. I don't want them to eat for traffic."
Last month, she saved enough money to rent a small cold storage in the market.
The cold storage door has a sign with the earliest note she printed: "The lonely type."
Next to it, she added: "But you chose it."