Seeing Wang An's confident expression, Feng Chengmin finally nodded, though his face remained heavy with worry.
After dropping off Mu Xueli, Wang Li, and their respective newly bought dogs, Wang An drove Feng Chengmin home.
Wang An had originally wanted to invite Feng Chengmin to stay for dinner, but Feng Chengmin insisted he wouldn't eat anything, so Wang An had to let it go.
Since the investigation by the Investment Promotion Office had come up, Feng Chengmin had instantly lost interest in that white ox that might have contained bezoar—or rather, he had forgotten all about it.
On the way to Linjia Village, Feng Chengmin had repeatedly confirmed with Wang An whether he could resolve this matter perfectly; if not, Feng Chengmin planned to flee overnight.
Wang An spent the entire trip persuading and reassuring him. He not only mentioned that Wu Dong was the head of the Wuzhuang District, a rank equal to the county magistrate, but also that Zhang Shuya was the director of the County Public Security Bureau.
Finally, Wang An even revealed that Zhang Siyuan was his godfather, which finally completely dispelled Feng Chengmin's doubts and anxieties.
He had to say it. If both Wu Dong and Zhang Shuya couldn't solve it, then a single word from someone of Zhang Siyuan's status and position might not make the entire Heilongjiang Province tremble, but it would at least make it shake.
Only a figure like Zhang Siyuan could make an old hunter like Feng Chengmin believe completely.
After sending Feng Chengmin home, Wang An declined the request from Feng Chengmin and his wife to stay for dinner and drove straight back home.
By the time Wang An arrived home, it was nearly noon, and Comrade Wang Dazhu was still tirelessly boiling grain.
Seeing Wang An return, Wang Dazhu hurriedly called out
"Xiao An, hurry up and carry this basin of sorghum into the house to drain."
Wang An agreed and picked up the large wooden basin, which held seventy or eighty catties of sorghum, and walked toward the house.
While the grain used for brewing must be cooked before fermentation, it must be drained of moisture before the fermentation process begins.
Therefore, Wang Dazhu carried the cooked grain into the house to drain.
There was no other way; the outside temperature was simply too low. If left outside, the cooked grain would freeze into tiny ice balls within seconds of leaving the stove shed.
If left any longer, all the grain in the basin would freeze together into one giant block of ice that couldn't be broken even with a hammer.
As for draining it outside, that was absolutely impossible.
Thus, draining the grain had to be done indoors. It was quite simple: one only needed to spread a woven kang mat on the floor and spread the grain over it to drain it perfectly.
Once the water was drained, fermentation could begin.
The method was to crush the yeast into a powder, mix it evenly with the grain, pack it into jars, seal the lids, and leave them there to ferment naturally.
When Wang An carried the wooden basin back to the stove shed, he saw Wang Dazhu pouring grain into the pot. Glancing at the bags of grain sitting not far from the stove, he couldn't help but ask
"Dad, how much liquor are you planning to brew? Are all those bags of grain waiting to be boiled?"
Hearing this, Wang Dazhu didn't even look up and said
"Mm-hmm, all waiting to be boiled. I figured I'd boil about two thousand catties first, then brew six or seven hundred catties of liquor."
Hearing this, Wang An blinked in surprise and instinctively exclaimed
"Oh my god! No, I mean, Dad, why are we brewing so much liquor? Who are you trying to drink to death?"
Two thousand catties of grain could easily produce over seven hundred catties of high-proof white liquor above 65%.
Such liquor was very suitable for soaking medicinal wines, but for daily drinking, it actually tasted quite bad because, aside from the pungency, you couldn't taste any aroma.
A single gulp felt like swallowing a ball of fire; from the mouth to the throat and then to the stomach, the only sensation was a burning feeling—or rather, a scorching heat—which stripped away all the pleasure of drinking.
Crucially, drinking such liquor made it very easy to get sick, leading to things like esophageal erosion, gastric erosion, or even esophageal and gastric cancer. It was quite unfriendly to the body.
So, when Wang An asked, "Who are you trying to drink to death?" he wasn't just talking nonsense, even if it sounded unpleasant to the ear.
Wang Dazhu turned and gave Wang An a sidelong glance, saying crossly
"Get lost to the corner. If you don't know how to speak properly, shut your mouth."
Wang An smiled slightly, unbothered, and spoke to Wang Dazhu earnestly
"Dad, I'm telling you, our family's conditions have improved, but we have to be careful with drinking. In the future, when we drink, we should distill the grain a few more times to drink something with a lower alcohol content. Most importantly, drink less..."
And so, Wang An rambled on for a long time, primarily explaining how excessive drinking damages the body and citing many examples, which finally convinced Comrade Wang Dazhu.
He had to say it because Wang An noticed that Wang Dazhu now had a glass with every meal—at least two liang, and if he was in a good mood, half a jin was normal.
Although the Wang family were born drinkers who rarely got drunk regardless of the amount, Wang An still felt that if his father continued drinking like this, he would eventually develop health problems.
Wang An only wanted Wang Dazhu and his wife to live long, healthy lives, allowing him to make up for the filial piety he owed from his previous life; he didn't want any problems to arise with their health.
Time flew by, and it was around 4 o'clock in the afternoon. By this time in Heilongjiang, it was already getting dark, and Huang Zhong, who had left in the morning to chase after Song Ping, returned on horseback.
As soon as Huang Zhong dismounted, Wang An, who was helping Wang Dazhu boil the last pot of grain, stepped forward to take the reins and said warmly
"You must be frozen stiff after a whole day out there, right?"
Wang An knew all too well what it felt like to spend a day running around in temperatures near minus 30 degrees.
Although Huang Zhong wore enough layers and was bundled up tightly, to be honest, while such clothing was fine for a short time, if one stayed outdoors for more than two or three hours without moving, the cold would still become unbearable.
Only by dressing warmly and staying in constant motion could one withstand such low temperatures.
Huang Zhong had spent basically the entire day in the saddle; Wang An could practically feel the experience himself.
Hearing this, Huang Zhong said with a chuckle
"Not at all, Big Brother. I didn't feel cold one bit. I was warm all day; even my toes didn't feel cold. I reckon it's because of those few sips of deer blood I had this morning, hehehehe..."
It was clear that being able to do things for Wang An was like a great honor to Huang Zhong; even if he suffered hunger and cold, he accepted it with sweetness.