Auntie Mei ran a noodle stall in the night market, under a string of red lanterns, and in thirty years she had not changed a single thing about it. Every customer got exactly the same bowl of noodles and exactly the same joke: "Careful, the noodles are hot, but my jokes are cold!" People groaned, and they came back every week.
One evening a man in an expensive coat ordered the cheapest noodles on the menu and began to write in a tiny notebook. Auntie Mei noticed the notebook, and she noticed his shiny shoes, which had clearly never met a puddle, but she gave him the same bowl and the same joke as everybody else. He ate slowly, with the concentration of a man defusing a bomb. When he had finished the last drop of broth, he put down his chopsticks and said, "I am a famous food critic. What is your secret?" Auntie Mei shrugged. "Hot broth, hungry people, and I don't change for anybody," she said.
He gave her five stars. She never read the review, but her regular customers told her about it, and they were very proud. The next week the line was twice as long, and Auntie Mei told the same joke.