The corner of the factory canteen: Start digging!

Zhang Shufen drank twice a day, ate meat every day, had filial children and grandchildren, and harmonious daughters-in-law. She had become everything the old ladies of Zhou Village envied.

But she had her own troubles too.

Her youngest son had been born the year her husband died in service. She had named him Weiguo so that the children would remember why their father had sacrificed himself.

Zhou Weiguo had been smart and athletic since childhood. He always brought home stacks of certificates from school sports meets. So many girls liked him that there were often love letters in his schoolbag, written in immature handwriting.

At eighteen, he enlisted in the army. His certificates became commendation notices and awards for meritorious service—disaster relief, winning military competitions, and more. He received them nearly every year and rose all the way to company commander, the same rank his father had held.

Most of his military allowance had been sent home, and she had saved it for him.

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

County leaders came, and the villagers lined the roads to welcome the war hero home. People from every nearby village came to see him.

The scene left her in a daze. When her husband had returned home that year, it had been just as lively.

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

Her son was a hero like his father. But this time, her son had come back alive.

The organization valued him highly. They wanted to arrange a job for him and ensured that his disability allowance was paid in full every month.

But they could not persuade stubborn Zhou Weiguo. He said he did not want to burden the country and insisted on returning home to farm.

In the blink of an eye, four years had passed.

He had truly managed to tend the family's tiny vegetable plot with one hand, and his vegetables grew even better than everyone else's.

Over the past two years, they had arranged blind dates for him. But when the girls came to see him—a missing arm, a lame leg, a frightening scar on his face, and no proper job—they immediately ran off.

Zhou Weiguo became the subject of private mockery in the village. People said he was thick-headed, that he refused to be an official, that he was stubborn and foolish.

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

The old lady worried herself sick. She had tried both gentle and harsh words, and even the organization urged him whenever they came to visit during the holidays, but nothing worked.

She had not expected Zhou Yan to persuade him today.

Why hadn't I noticed before that this boy was such a good talker? The old lady muttered to herself, though her face was full of relief.

Before Zhou Momo was born, Zhou Yan had been the youngest grandchild. When he was little, his parents had been busy, so he loved coming here to mooch meals.

If Zhou Weiguo really went to work, she did not care whether he became an official or not. As long as he could step out into the world and live a meaningful life, she would be content.

Besides, if a girl took a liking to him after he started working, she would no longer have to worry.

Zhou Yan and Zhou Weiguo chatted at the doorway for quite some time. Zhou Yan briefly described the world of the future, packaging it as knowledge he had read in books. Zhou Weiguo listened with shining eyes.

"A man who drifts through life accomplishing nothing is no different from rotten wood and decaying grass!" Zhou Weiguo slapped the persimmon tree hard, 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 boy in him again.

No, he had become even greater.

"Then I'll go with you tomorrow, Uncle. I'll come pick you up," Zhou Yan said as he stood.

"No need. I'll borrow a bicycle and go myself." Zhou Weiguo stood as well and smiled as he patted Zhou Yan's shoulder. "If I need someone to accompany me for such a trivial matter, what else could I possibly do? Just focus on the restaurant. Maybe I'll even come eat at your place at noon."

"Sure." Zhou Yan nodded, pulled out a stack of ten-yuan notes, and handed them to Zhou Weiguo. "Uncle, this is the hundred yuan I borrowed from you before. I'm paying it back."

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

"Then I won't stand on ceremony," Zhou Yan said with a smile.

Zhou Yan sat for a little longer, then said he had something to do and needed to return to the restaurant.

"Won't you stay for dinner? I was just thinking of killing a chicken for tonight." The old lady came out of the chicken coop beside them, carrying a large rooster with glossy feathers.

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

"Alright." The old lady tossed the rooster back into the coop, then went into the main room and came back out carrying half a sack of oranges.

"Take this. Here's a list of the spices and bones needed to make the braising stock. Come pick me up whenever you've got everything ready." The old lady handed Zhou Yan a sheet of paper covered with more than twenty kinds of spices and their quantities.

"Alright." Zhou Yan carefully folded it and put it into his pocket before taking the oranges. "Once I've got everything ready, I'll come invite you over."

"Go on, then. Let Momo play here. After dinner, have Weiguo take her home." The old lady smiled.

"Okay." Zhou Yan answered, got on his bicycle, and left.

He went home first.

Old Zhou was in the yard bending embroidery needles into fishhooks. He looked up at Zhou Yan, then toward the doorway. "Where's Momo?"

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

Zhou Yan walked over and watched him carefully heat a needle until it glowed red before bending it. Two finished hooks were already on the ground, along with several broken needles.

"Dad, aren't you afraid Mom will beat you if she sees this? You've bent an entire box of needles." Zhou Yan laughed. Even he would not dare pull something that guaranteed a beating from Mom.

"Beat me for what? She wouldn't dare." Old Zhou kept bending needles, utterly unconcerned. "I just bought this box. She doesn't even know about it."

"Where's Mom?" Zhou Yan looked around. The main room was completely quiet.

Their home was a single-story house with a small courtyard enclosed by a fence. The ground was paved with stones Old Zhou had picked up from the river. A grapevine grew by the entrance, and its leaves had begun to fall.

There was one main room, two bedrooms, and an outhouse in the corner. The rammed-earth walls were covered with weathered marks, but the place was kept spotless. There was not even a dead leaf in the yard.

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

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

"You're not eating dinner at home?"

"No. I'm planning to start selling braised dishes and stir-fries next week. I'm going back today to put together the menu and finish the preparations. Tomorrow will be crazy busy again." Zhou Yan answered and headed straight out.

"Stir-fries? Braised dishes?" Old Zhou looked up, but Zhou Yan had already ridden far away.

On the way back, Zhou Yan's mind was filled with thoughts of how to price the dishes.

A serving of Beef Braised with Dried Bamboo Shoots required three taels of beef. Beef cost one yuan fifty per jin, and that was already the cost price his father gave him.

Braised Spare Ribs and Suihua Beef also needed three taels of meat, and the ribs cost even more—one yuan eighty per jin.

For a single dish, the meat alone cost forty-five to fifty-four cents.

Then there were the vegetables, oil, seasonings, firewood, wear and tear on utensils, labor, and so on. That added another twenty to thirty cents.

By his rough estimate, Braised Beef and Green-and-Red Pepper Minced Beef cost around sixty-five cents to make, while Braised Spare Ribs could cost as much as seventy-five cents.

Crucian carp cost forty-five cents per jin. A serving of Agastache Carp needed two carp weighing around eight taels each. Braising fish used plenty of oil and seasonings, so adding thirty cents for that, the cost came to about one yuan.

Zhou Yan thought of the restaurant's old menu: Garlic Sauce Pork for thirty-five cents, Salted Braised Pork for forty-five cents, Twice-Cooked Pork for sixty cents, Dongpo Pork Knuckle for one yuan twenty...

There was a reason Little Zhou had run the restaurant into the ground.

That menu had been modeled after the Factory Canteen's.

It looked fine on the surface, but it was a pitfall from top to bottom.

The Factory Canteen could get the best and freshest ingredients from the Supply and Marketing Cooperative, and ticket prices were nearly half as cheap.

The canteen could get pork belly for one yuan per jin, while Zhou Yan had to pay one yuan eighty or even two yuan.

And the Factory Canteen also issued meal tickets to workers, so its prices were already lower than state-run restaurants and private eateries.

Trying to match the Factory Canteen's prices, or even undercut them, was a guaranteed way to lose money.

Beef Braised with Dried Bamboo Shoots and Two-Pepper Minced Beef would be one yuan per serving, while Braised Spare Ribs would be one yuan twenty.

Agastache Carp was complicated to prepare, and he also had to account for waste from the fish, so he set it at two yuan per serving.

There were no cucumbers this season. Otherwise, Smashed Cucumber could have gone on the menu to round out the selection.

These prices were a third higher than the Factory Canteen's stir-fries. For example, the Factory Canteen sold Braised Crucian Carp for one yuan fifty per serving.

It could not be helped. Zhou Yan had opened a restaurant to make money, so he needed room for profit.

Besides, if low prices alone could keep customers, Little Zhou would not have been guarding an empty restaurant every day.

Flavor was where a dish earned its premium, and customers had to recognize that value.

Zhou Yan was quite confident about that.

The students from Sichuan Fine Arts Academy had created buzz for Zhou Erwa Restaurant. Zhou Yan figured plenty of workers would come tomorrow to join the excitement and see what magic this little restaurant possessed.

He definitely could not miss out on such an enormous wave of traffic.

Besides, quite a few customers had been urging him to start offering stir-fries and braised dishes. Some even said he could just put a few noodle minces on the menu first. Some people simply did not like noodles.

He had just learned Agastache Carp, and together with Qiaojiao Beef, he could piece together four dishes and one soup for the menu.

His target customers were the Factory Canteen's core stir-fry customers.

He was more than motivated to poach customers from the Factory Canteen.

He would get started tomorrow!

Zhou Yan rode back to the restaurant and found someone standing at the entrance.

"Uncle Lin, why are you standing here?" Zhou Yan squeezed the brakes and looked at Lin Zhiqiang in surprise.

"I was just wondering if you weren't here." Lin Zhiqiang looked at Zhou Yan with a smile. "Little Zhou, I'm planning to treat some people to a meal at your place tomorrow. Besides noodles, do you have any other signature dishes?"

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