Chapter 7: Chapter 4: Braised Beef with Dried Bamboo Shoots

Zhou Miao rode the 28-inch roadster, carrying Zhao Tieying and Zhou Momo home.

Zhou Momo sat on the front crossbar, not forgetting to tilt her head and wave at Zhou Yan, calling out in a childish voice, "Brother, I’m going home now."

"Okay," Zhou Yan replied with a smile.

This 28-inch roadster wasn’t just a means of transportation; it was his dad’s delivery vehicle. He relied on it every day to haul hundreds of pounds of beef to market.

In this era of scarcity, money alone wasn’t enough to buy a bicycle; you also needed a bicycle coupon.

"Zhou Yan seemed a little different today," Zhao Tieying said with a smile, her arms wrapped around Zhou Miao’s waist.

"He seems more mature, and he’s gotten closer to our little girl. Being a hero really changes a person," Zhou Miao replied.

"Those noodles today were truly delicious. I’ve never had noodles that good in my whole life. He’s really learned a thing or two." Zhao Tieying’s smile grew wider, but it was quickly replaced by a flicker of confusion. "But he learned his craft from Master Xiao. If the noodles at the factory cafeteria were that good, how would Wang the Fifth’s noodle stall still have any customers?"

"That is a bit strange..."

...

"Zhou Yan, are you planning on selling this restaurant?" Wang the Fifth’s voice came from behind just as Zhou Yan was about to enter his shop.

Zhou Yan frowned and turned around.

He looked at Wang the Fifth, who stood about five-foot-one, had a Mediterranean hairstyle, a slightly chubby build, and a shrewd smile.

Zhou Yan said, "Who told you that? My restaurant is doing just fine. I’m not selling."

The smile on Wang the Fifth’s face froze. He said urgently, "Not a single customer all day, and you call that ’doing just fine’? That’s no way to run a business. Even if your parents are rich, they can’t afford for a kid like you to burn through money like that. I know an old-timer’s words can be harsh, but..."

"If they’re harsh, then keep them to yourself. Best you stay far away from me." Zhou Yan took a step back. "I have trypophobia. I can’t stand being around people whose minds are cluttered with schemes."

Wang the Fifth’s noodle stall was right at the entrance of the silk factory, directly across from Zhou Yan’s restaurant. Zhou Yan knew the man was up to no good; otherwise, his mother wouldn’t have chewed him out earlier.

He added with a laugh, "Instead of worrying about my shop, you should worry about how many hairs you have left on your head. My restaurant is switching to noodles tomorrow. I’m afraid you’re about to start losing hair even faster."

After speaking, Zhou Yan turned, entered his shop, and shut the door.

"Noodles?" Wang the Fifth was stunned for a moment. As he processed Zhou Yan’s words, he flushed with anger and embarrassment. "That spendthrift doesn’t even know where to buy noodles, and he wants to sell them? Does he really think opening a noodle house is that simple? His restaurant will definitely go under in less than half a month!"

He wasn’t interested in the shop itself, with its 15-yuan monthly rent. But he coveted the eight-immortals tables and long benches that Zhou Yan had commissioned. When the time came, he could lowball him and pick up a few sets. It would be much more cost-effective than hiring a carpenter to make his own.

Zhou Yan went into the kitchen to take stock of his ingredients. He had about ten catties of flour left, which would be enough for tomorrow.

He needed to prepare the side dishes and ingredients like chili peppers, dried bamboo shoots, scallions, and ginger today. That way, he’d have enough time to cook the toppings after getting the meat early tomorrow morning.

Before heading out, Zhou Yan counted the cash he had on hand. He originally had 3 yuan, 8 jiao, and 5 fen. His dad had secretly slipped him 2 yuan, Zhou Momo had made a friendly contribution of 5 fen, and his mom had given him another 10 yuan and 4 jiao. The grand total was 16 yuan and 4 jiao.

It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was all in one-yuan and five-jiao bills, making a thick stack in his hand.

This was Zhou Yan’s entire fortune, the capital for his comeback, and it carried the weight of his parents’ expectations.

Zhou Yan pocketed the money, padlocked the door, and set off to do his shopping.

By the time he returned to the restaurant, laden with bags of all sizes, the sky had already started to grow dark.

’A bicycle would be great. Once I make some money, the first thing I need to buy is a bike.’ Zhou Yan placed the large bags of dried bamboo shoots and vegetables on an eight-immortals table, shaking out his numb hands. He then picked up the teapot of cold tea on the table and took several large gulps.

There were too many places to go to buy ingredients. Relying on his own two feet was exhausting. At that moment, his desire for a 28-inch roadster reached its peak.

He bought ten catties of dried bamboo shoots for five jiao and five fen per catty, and a catty each of millet and erjingtiao peppers for one jiao and five fen. Five catties each of radish and lettuce cost another yuan. All told, he spent six yuan and eight jiao. He took a ledger from behind the counter and recorded the expense.

He made himself a simple bowl of dough drop soup to eat, then found two sheets of large red paper and a calligraphy brush.

On one sheet, he wrote a new menu to post on the wall. It listed just three types of noodles, clearly priced at six jiao per bowl.

On the other, he wrote a new sign. He nailed it to a wooden board to make a display, which he would place by the door tomorrow to attract customers.

He grabbed two handfuls of dried bamboo shoots to soak and sliced the radishes into strips, putting them in a pickle jar to brine.

The Newbie Gift Package from the system didn’t just contain three noodle recipes, but also a secret pickle recipe. If he started them today, they would be ready to eat the day after tomorrow.

After finishing all this, he washed up and went upstairs early. He fell asleep the moment he hit the bed.

...

The next day, before the sun was up, Master Zhou was already awake and out the door to buy groceries.

When it came to making money, Zhou Yan had always been incredibly enthusiastic.

He couldn’t help it; he was terrified of being poor.

Holding a Tiger Head brand flashlight, he followed his memory to the Zhou Village Yankantu Slaughterhouse. Zhou Miao had already prepared the catty of sirloin tip and catty of brisket he wanted, along with ten catties of beef bones.

The sirloin tip and brisket were priced at 1.5 yuan per catty, a full yuan cheaper than the beef stalls outside. He didn’t charge for the beef bones. ’Now that’s a real dad!’

On the way back, he also stopped by Stone Bridge Head to pick up the catty of premium spare ribs he had pre-ordered from Zhang the Third.

"Zhou Yan, why just one catty of baby back ribs today? You don’t need any pig trotters or pork belly?" Zhang the Third looked at Zhou Yan, a bit puzzled. Lately, Zhou Yan had been his biggest customer. Every time he came, he wouldn’t just buy meat, but also plenty of offal like pork kidney, liver, and intestines.