Chapter 42: Can just anyone come out and set up a stall now?

Zhao Tieying's words made both Zhou Yan and Zhao Hong burst into laughter.

"Fourth Grandma, Uncle!" Zhou Lihui stood straight with his backpack on, greeting the two with a simple, honest smile.

"Huihui, you're up early as always," Zhou Yan said with a smile.

"He's been reciting his books all the way here. It's the first time I've seen him take the initiative to study; he says he wants to recognize every single character," Zhao Hong said, full of gratification.

Hearing this, Zhou Yan nodded. "That kind of drive is exactly what's needed."

"Mhm," Zhou Lihui nodded vigorously.

Zhou Liangliang wasn't afraid of Zhou Yan, but he felt a bit intimidated by Zhao Tieying. When he looked up, he happened to catch her gaze and could only force a smile, saying, "Auntie Zhao, you arrived early."

"I'm not early; your noses are just sharp, smelling the food and coming straight here," Zhao Tieying replied with a smirk that didn't reach her eyes.

Zhou Liangliang's mother, Gao Cuihua, was the village women's director. A couple of years ago, she had argued with Zhao Tieying over Zhou Momo's household registration, and she was a defeated opponent not worth mentioning.

Zhou Liangliang gave an awkward, silly laugh, not daring to respond. He felt his level was too low; he didn't think he could hold his own against a "cranky old woman" like Zhao Tieying.

Seeing that he didn't even dare to reply, Zhao Tieying withdrew her gaze in boredom.

Zhou Yan lifted Zhou Momo from the carrying basket and placed her gently on the bed. The little one was like a caterpillar; as soon as she touched the bed, she wiggled herself under the covers and continued to sleep soundly.

Zhou Yan tucked the corners of the blanket around her and turned to go downstairs.

At the entrance of the restaurant, Zhou Jie parked his bicycle to the side, locked it, and glanced at the stall across the street. He was somewhat surprised. "Zhou Liangliang? How did they move their stall here?"

"They moved in yesterday," Zhou Yan said with a smile. "Maybe they think business will be better being next to me."

"That bastard has thick skin. Back then, he saw my business was good and insisted on setting up next to me. Now he sees yours is good and moves right across from you. Does he think we brothers are easy targets?" Zhou Jie's face darkened as he rolled up his sleeves, preparing to walk across the street.

"Forget it, forget it. Everyone is just trying to make a living," Zhou Yan quickly pulled him back. "Let him set up. If he doesn't, someone else will. Selling food relies on skill and flavor."

"But..."

"Even if he set up next to you, he'd only sell ten or twenty bowls a day. Setting up across from me won't make his business any better," Zhou Yan said smilingly. "That couple isn't the type to work steadily. They haven't even mastered making soup, yet they want to sell noodles. If they take steps that are too big, they'll end up hurting themselves."

Looking at Zhou Yan's confident expression, Zhou Jie smiled too. "Makes sense."

"Come on, today I'll teach you the authentic way to make Qiaojiao Beef."

"Qiaojiao Beef? Isn't it just soup?"

"Soup isn't catchy enough, so I'm using the name 'Qiaojiao Beef' used by the older generation." Zhou Yan led Zhou Jie to look at the signage and the brand story in front of the earthen stove first.

After reading it, Zhou Jie nodded repeatedly. "It does look more high-end than just 'soup.' You're smart."

"Come on, I'll teach you the recipe today," Zhou Yan said, walking into the shop.

"Fourth Aunt, Sister-in-law," Zhou Jie greeted them upon entering. Seeing Zhou Lihui standing nearby, he was surprised. "Eh? Why is Huihui in the shop too?"

"Third Uncle, I'm here to learn cooking from Uncle," Zhou Lihui replied.

"Aren't you just in your third year of junior high? Aren't you studying?" Zhou Jie asked, puzzled.

"He still has to study. He helps out here with Sister-in-law until 7:30 in the morning, then goes to school," Zhou Yan explained. "He wants to be a chef, so I'm letting him get some experience first."

"It's good to learn from your uncle. He's very capable. I'm actually here today to become his apprentice," Zhou Jie said with a smile, putting an arm around Zhou Lihui's shoulder. "From now on, we are fellow disciples."

"Then... do I call you Senior Brother? And I call you Third Uncle?" Zhou Lihui asked expectantly.

"You've got quite the imagination. Calling me Senior Brother is about as close as it gets," Zhou Jie said, lightly patting his head.

Everyone laughed, and the atmosphere became relaxed and pleasant.

"Come on, Brother Jie, we'll start today with how to boil the broth," Zhou Yan invited Zhou Jie over, then said to Zhou Lihui, "Huihui, this morning you're responsible for fetching water. You need to fill this pot."

"Got it, Chef Zhou!" Zhou Jie said with a laugh.

"Got it! Chef Zhou!" Zhou Lihui also turned toward the kitchen.

Zhou Yan began explaining everything from how to arrange the bones in the pot, how much bone to use, which parts of the bone to use, the quantities, the selection of beef offal... his explanation was extremely detailed.

Zhou Jie held a small notebook, recording all of Zhou Yan's key points. He had made soup for two years, and what Zhou Yan was saying was largely similar to what he knew. However, Zhou Jie knew very well that the gap between a good chef and an ordinary chef lies in those "slight differences."

The reason his soup could stand out among so many stalls at the pier was precisely because of the differentiation he had painstakingly researched. Tiny differences determined the flavor of a pot of soup. Even a slight variation in the amount of spices would make the taste entirely different.

Zhou Lihui carried bucket after bucket of water into the pot, working very hard. Although he was only fifteen, he had endless stamina; he could carry two buckets at once, which was clearly a family trait.

"These are the spices, and then there are these types of Chinese herbs..." Zhou Yan held a small scale, weighing things while putting them into gauze bags. "The dosage must be precise. Too little and there's no effect; too much and the flavor is too strong, turning the soup into medicine that's undrinkable."

"Adding so many types of Chinese herbs must be expensive, right?" Zhou Jie asked, somewhat surprised.

"If it were the same soup as everyone else's, I wouldn't dare sell it for sixty cents," Zhou Yan laughed.

"You really are using good ingredients," Zhou Jie nodded, seriously noting down the dosages for the various spices and herbs.

"Don't use too much heat at the beginning. Use a fine-mesh skimmer to skim off the foam bit by bit. If you do this step well, the soup will be clear and free of impurities. It will look and taste pleasant—savory without being gamey," Zhou Yan handed the skimmer to Zhou Jie. "Next, just watch the pot and skim it slowly. Simmer it over low heat. I'll have my mother explain the precautions to you."

Zhou Yan asked Auntie Zhao to handle the guidance, while he went into the kitchen to prepare the toppings and stir-fry the minced meat. Zhou Lihui became his little assistant, tasked with chores like washing vegetables and tending the fire.

He should have started with knife skills, but the restaurant currently didn't have enough extra ingredients for him to practice on, so that had to wait. The young boy didn't complain at all; he sat by the stove with a gaze as determined as if he were preparing for a postgraduate entrance exam.

Watching this, Zhao Hong smiled and turned to the entrance to chat with Zhao Tieying.

Around seven o'clock, workers began arriving for their shifts.

Zhou Yan placed the notice he had written yesterday in a prominent position at the door to inform them in advance: *Starting today, Zhou Erwa's Restaurant will only serve noodles in the morning. For lunch and dinner, we will only serve cooked dishes and stir-fries.*

Meanwhile, across the street, Zhou Liangliang and his wife began shouting to attract customers: "Noodles for sale! Noodles! Only fifty cents a bowl! Just fifty cents a bowl!"

"How cheap. They're ten cents cheaper than us and still shouting so loudly," Zhou Jie muttered, feeling irritated.

Zhao Tieying remained calm. "Don't worry. Wang Laowu is in prison now. The feng shui of that stall is bad; they won't succeed."

The aftereffects of the incident where Sichuan Fine Arts students ate two meals in a row had not yet faded. Many workers who hadn't managed to get noodles the day before had decided this morning to come and try them, to see just how delicious the noodles at Zhou Erwa's Restaurant were that they could make the students praise them so highly.

Zhou Liangliang's shouting did attract the attention of some workers.

"Zhou Liangliang's soup and noodles? Is this an internal feud in Zhou Village?"

"They took over Wang Laowu's noodle stall. They're trying to challenge Zhou Yan. I wonder how their cooking is?"

"That pot is stewing Zhou Village-style soup, right? It's ten cents cheaper than Zhou Erwa's, but regular Zhou Village soup usually sells for thirty cents, doesn't it?"

As curiosity grew, people naturally gathered to take a look.

Zhou Liangliang and Wu Guihua quickly put on smiles, feeling overjoyed in their hearts. Business at the entrance of the textile factory was indeed easy; a fifty-cent bowl of noodles could attract so many workers just with a shout, and they could all afford it.

However, as soon as they approached, the workers began to frown.

A gamey smell from improperly treated beef offal wafted out from the soup pot with the steam, hitting them in the face and making them pause.

Then they looked at the bowls of toppings placed in front of the noodle pot.

The minced meat topping was dry and crumbly, lacking any oiliness. The braised beef was shapeless and mushy in the bowl, clearly overcooked. The color of the chicken offal was wrong—it was pale, completely killing anyone's appetite.

"What kind of toppings are these? Even my grandmother fries them better than this. They're not even as good as Wang Laowu's!"

"Can anyone just come out and set up a stall these days?"

"Fifty cents for this? Even Wang Laowu wasn't that heartless."

The workers shook their heads and turned away, as if having made a firm decision. The group of customers who loved noodles was a specific crowd, and they had standards.

The smiles on Zhou Liangliang and Wu Guihua's faces froze. They looked on with confusion, bewilderment, and resentment as the customers walked straight toward Zhou Erwa's Restaurant.

Of course, the smiles did not disappear. They simply shifted to the faces of Zhao Tieying and Zhou Jie.

"Come on in, dearies, have a seat. Today's pickled radish is wonderful..."

Auntie Zhao greeted the arriving customers with a beaming smile.