Chapter 40: The Corner of the Factory Canteen: Digging!

Zhang Shufen had two meals with alcohol a day, meat every single day, filial children and grandchildren, and a harmonious relationship with her daughter-in-law. She lived the life that all the old ladies in Zhou Village envied most.

But she had her own troubles.

Her youngest son was born the year her husband sacrificed his life. She named him Weiguo—"Defend the Country"—specifically so the children would remember why their father had died.

Zhou Weiguo had been clever and athletic since childhood. He always brought home a stack of certificates from school sports meets, and he had plenty of little girls who liked him; his schoolbag was often filled with love letters written in childish handwriting.

When he enlisted at eighteen, those certificates turned into notices of merit and commendations. He participated in disaster relief and martial arts competitions, winning almost every year. He rose through the ranks to become a company commander, reaching the same rank his father had held back then.

Most of his military stipend was sent back home, which she kept in savings for him.

Until the year a telegram arrived from the town. When she saw him again, he had lost an arm and walked with a limp.

The county leaders all came, and the villagers lined the roads to welcome the combat hero home; people from ten villages around came to watch.

The scene left her feeling dazed; it was just as lively as the day her husband had returned home years ago.

She wanted to cry, but in the end, she smiled.

Her son, like her late husband, was a hero—but this time, her son had come home alive.

The organization placed great importance on him, arranging a job and ensuring his disability pension was paid in full.

But they couldn't sway the stubborn Zhou Weiguo. Saying he didn't want to be a burden to the state, he insisted on returning home to farm.

In the blink of an eye, four years passed.

Using only one hand, he actually managed to make the family's three plots of vegetable land look quite decent; his vegetables grew even better than anyone else's.

Over the past two years, they had arranged blind dates for him, but as soon as the girls arrived and saw his missing arm, his limp, the terrifying scar on his face, and his lack of a steady job, they fled immediately.

Zhou Weiguo became the subject of private ridicule in the village. People said he was thick-headed, that he had a government position but refused it, calling him a stubborn fool and a "treasure."

At thirty-four, he was considered an old bachelor even in the countryside.

The old lady was worried sick. She had tried every kind and unkind word, and the organization came to visit him every holiday to persuade him, but nothing worked.

Unexpectedly, today, Zhou Yan actually managed to move him.

"I never realized this kid was quite the talker," the old lady muttered to herself, though her face was full of relief.

Before Zhou Momo was born, Zhou Yan was the youngest of the grandchildren. When he was little, his mother and father were busy, so he loved to run to her place to scrounge for meals.

If Zhou Weiguo truly went back to work, she didn't care whether he became an official or not; as long as he could go out into the world and live a life of value, she would be satisfied.

Besides, if a girl took an interest in him after he started working, she wouldn't have to worry anymore.

Zhou Yan and Zhou Weiguo chatted at the door for a long while. He briefly sketched out the future world, packaging it as knowledge from the books he had read, which made Zhou Weiguo's eyes light up.

"A great man living a mediocre life—how is he any different from decaying wood or rotting grass?" Zhou Weiguo struck the persimmon tree heavily, his gaze resolute. "Fine. I'll go to the Personnel Bureau tomorrow."

At that moment, Zhou Yan saw the shadow of that eighteen-year-old youth in him once again.

No, he had become even more imposing.

"Then I'll accompany you tomorrow. I'll come pick you up," Zhou Yan said, standing up.

"No need. I'll borrow a bicycle and go myself." Zhou Weiguo also stood up and patted his shoulder with a smile. "If I need someone to accompany me for such a small matter, what else can I do? You just focus on taking care of the restaurant. I might even come to your shop for lunch."

"Will do," Zhou Yan nodded. He pulled a stack of ten-yuan notes from his pocket and handed them to Zhou Weiguo. "Uncle, this is the hundred yuan I borrowed from you before. I'm returning it."

Zhou Weiguo took it with a smile, tucked it into his pocket without counting it, and looked at him. "Come find me when you need money. I'll keep this for you."

"Then I won't be polite," Zhou Yan smiled back.

Zhou Yan sat for a while longer before saying he had business to attend to at the shop.

"Aren't you staying for dinner? I was going to kill a chicken for us to eat tonight," the old lady said, emerging from the chicken coop with a large, glossy-feathered rooster in her hand.

"I need to go back and work on the new menu. Let's save it for next time," Zhou Yan said with a smile.

"Alright then." The old lady tossed the rooster back into the coop and went into the main room to bring out half a bag of oranges.

"Here. This is the list of spices and bones needed for the braising liquid. When you're ready, come pick me up." The old lady handed a piece of paper to Zhou Yan; it was filled with various spices and measurements, totaling over twenty types.

"Got it." Zhou Yan carefully folded it into his pocket and took the oranges. "I'll come to invite you once I'm ready."

"Go on then. Let Momo play here; let Weiguo take her home after dinner," the old lady said smilingly.

"Okay," Zhou Yan responded, hopped on his bike, and left.

He made a quick trip home first.

Comrade Old Zhou was in the courtyard breaking sewing needles to make fishhooks. He looked up at Zhou Yan and then toward the door. "Where's Momo?"

"At Grandma's. Uncle will bring her back after dinner."

Zhou Yan leaned in, watching him carefully heating the needles until they were red before bending them. Two finished products were already on the ground, along with several broken ones.

"Dad, aren't you afraid Mom will hit you? You've broken an entire box of needles," Zhou Yan joked. He wouldn't dare behave in such a way that would invite a mother's wrath.

"Hit me? She wouldn't dare," Comrade Old Zhou continued breaking needles, unperturbed. "I bought this box new; she has no idea."

"Where's Mom?" Zhou Yan looked around; the main room was quiet.

Their house was a single-story bungalow surrounded by a small fenced courtyard. The ground was paved with stones Old Zhou had gathered from the river. A grape tree grew by the door, its leaves already beginning to fall.

There was a main room, two bedrooms, and a latrine in the corner. The mud-plastered walls were mottled with age, yet everything was kept clean; there wasn't even a withered leaf in the courtyard.

"She went next door to play mahjong for a penny. She only gets one day off a week; she needs to relax too," Zhou Miao replied.

"Alright, then I'll head back to the shop first." Zhou Yan placed the oranges on a stool and turned to leave.

"Aren't you eating dinner at home tonight?"

"Not tonight. I plan to start selling braised and stir-fried dishes next week. I'm going back today to finalize the menu and get the preparations done. Tomorrow will be incredibly busy," Zhou Yan replied as he headed out.

"Stir-fried? Braised?" Comrade Old Zhou looked up, but Zhou Yan had already cycled far away.

On the way back, Zhou Yan's mind was entirely occupied with how to price the dishes.

A serving of braised beef with dried bamboo shoots would require about 150 grams of beef. Beef cost 1.5 yuan per catty—that was the cost price his father gave him.

Braised ribs and minced beef would also require 150 grams of meat. The cost of ribs was even higher, at 1.8 yuan per catty.

For a single dish, the meat cost alone would be between 0.45 and 0.54 yuan.

Adding side ingredients, oil, seasonings, firewood, the wear and tear of utensils, labor, and so on, he would need to add another 0.2 to 0.3 yuan.

A rough calculation: the cost of braised beef or minced beef with peppers would be about 0.65 yuan, while braised ribs would reach 0.75 yuan.

Crucian carp cost 0.45 yuan per catty. A serving of fragrant crucian carp would require two fish weighing about 800 grams total. Including the cost of oil and seasonings, estimated at 0.3 yuan, the cost would be about 1 yuan.

Zhou Yan thought back to the original menu of the shop: Garlic Sliced Pork at 0.35, Salted Braised Pork at 0.45, Twice-Cooked Pork at 0.6, Dongpo Pork Hock at 1.2...

There was a reason the young Zhou had driven the restaurant into bankruptcy.

That menu was modeled after the factory canteen.

It seemed fine on the surface, but it was actually full of pitfalls.

The factory canteen's procurement could get the best and freshest ingredients from the supply and marketing cooperatives at prices nearly half as much, thanks to ration coupons.

The canteen could get pork belly for 1 yuan per catty, whereas Zhou Yan had to pay 1.8 or even 2 yuan.

Furthermore, the factory canteen issued meal coupons to workers, making their prices naturally cheaper than state-run or private restaurants.

If he insisted on matching the canteen's prices—or even going lower—he would surely go broke.

He would set the braised beef with bamboo shoots and the minced beef with peppers at 1 yuan per serving, and the braised ribs at 1.2 yuan per serving.

The fragrant crucian carp was a complex dish to prepare and required accounting for fish wastage, so he would set it at 2 yuan per serving.

There were no cucumbers this season; otherwise, he could have added smashed cucumber to the menu as a filler.

This pricing was about one-third more expensive than the canteen's stir-fry—for example, the canteen's braised crucian carp was 1.5 yuan per serving.

He had no choice; Zhou Yan was running a business to make money, and he needed a profit margin.

Besides, if being cheap were enough to keep customers, the young Zhou wouldn't have spent every day sitting in an empty shop.

Flavor was the premium factor of a dish, provided it was recognized by the diners.

In this regard, Zhou Yan was quite confident.

The Sichuan Fine Arts University students had created buzz for Erwa's Restaurant. Zhou Yan estimated that many workers would come tomorrow to see what magic this little eatery possessed.

He certainly couldn't miss out on such a massive influx of traffic.

Moreover, many customers had been calling for him to introduce stir-fried and braised dishes, or even just a few types of noodle toppings; some people truly didn't like eating plain noodles.

Coincidentally, he had just learned how to make fragrant crucian carp. Combined with the beef noodles, he would have a menu featuring four dishes and one soup.

His target audience was the core customer base of the factory canteen's stir-fry.

He was highly motivated to poach customers from the factory canteen.

He would start tomorrow!

As Zhou Yan cycled back to the restaurant, he found someone standing at the door.

"Uncle Lin, why are you standing here?" Zhou Yan squeezed the brakes, looking at Lin Zhiqiang with surprise.

"I was just thinking you weren't in," Lin Zhiqiang said with a smile. "Xiao Zhou, I'm planning to host a meal for some people at your shop tomorrow. Besides noodles, do you have any other specialty dishes?"