Chapter 310 - 177: To Become Rich and Not Return Home Is Like...

Chapter 310: Chapter 177: To Become Rich and Not Return Home Is Like...

Mrs. Qiu nodded. "That’s fine, too."

Wang, of course, had no objections. He pushed his bicycle and walked slowly along the riverbank with Mrs. Qiu.

"Fei, drive over to the town library and wait for us. We’ll walk," Duan Yu Yan said to Yan Fei, before falling back a few steps to follow behind the two elders.

Yan Fei would never dare let Miss Duan and Mrs. Qiu be on their own, especially with all the sparkling jewelry Miss Duan was wearing. If some reckless punk were to set his sights on them, he couldn’t bear that responsibility.

He shot Huang Bing a warning glance, got in the car, and followed the trio from a safe distance.

"Why the hell did he glare at me again? Do I really not look like a good person?" Huang Bing grumbled, pushing his bike out.

"You really don’t have a single feature that screams ’good person’," Huang Ying said, nodding in solemn agreement.

"It’s nothing. He’s just a driver," Huang Bing said dismissively. Watching Duan Yu Yan’s retreating figure, he added with confidence, "I’m sure I’ll get to talk to Miss Duan soon. She even gave me a few extra looks today!"

"Tsk. When people go to the zoo, they usually look at two kinds of things: the beautiful creatures, and the funny-looking ones—like red-bottomed monkeys."

"You... What are you trying to say?" Huang Bing glared at her.

Huang Ying looked at him. "Do you remember what that fortune-teller told you when we went to pray at the temple at the beginning of the year?"

"I do. He said I’d be troubled by love this year." A wistful look crossed Huang Bing’s face. "And look, here it is."

"I thought it was romance at first, too. I was worried you were going to get hung up on some girl this year," Huang Ying said with a straight face. "Only today did I realize he meant you’d be troubled by unrequited love."

"Huh?" Huang Bing paused, stunned. As he watched Huang Ying pedal furiously away, the meaning finally clicked. He gritted his teeth and yelled, "Huang Ying! Get back here!"

...

"The customers are going crazy for the Mapo Tofu. I think we could sell another twenty orders, no problem," Zhao Tieying said to Zhou Yan, who was just coming out of the kitchen and taking off his apron after the lunch rush.

"It’s always like that when something’s new. Everyone wants a taste. But twenty more servings means another twenty pounds of tofu. I’m not sure if Lai Fu and his team can produce that much," Zhou Yan said with a smile, equally pleased with the Mapo Tofu’s successful debut.

All of this tofu was made from soy milk that Lai Fu ground by hand, bit by bit. Production capacity was completely dependent on his physical stamina.

He was too thin. Even with good endurance, he had to make regular tofu, pressed tofu, and also help with the tofu skin. It was too much work, so his output was ultimately limited.

The best solution, Zhou Yan figured, was to buy a mule and get the large millstone in the courtyard working again.

That way, they could free themselves from the most grueling and physically demanding task—grinding the soybeans. The speed would increase dramatically, and production capacity would likely shoot up as well.

A donkey cost three hundred yuan. Zhou Yan figured they should be able to afford one before the New Year.

Then, not only could the donkey turn the mill, but it could also be harnessed to a cart to deliver the tofu.

That was how Lai Fu’s father used to do it—driving a donkey cart all over, delivering tofu.

Zhou Yan would definitely make sure to oversee this.

With a donkey cart, even if he moved his restaurant to Jiazhou in the future, he could still have Lai Fu deliver fresh tofu to him every day.

He was a core supplier, after all.

"Whether they can do it is your great-aunt’s problem. You just make the request, and they’ll figure out a way. Frankly, making regular tofu involves fewer steps than pressed tofu, but they earn the same amount. I’m sure they’d be happy to make and sell more of it," Zhao Tieying said.

"Alright, I’ll head over to Shangshui Village later," Zhou Yan agreed.

Zhao Tieying smiled. "Good. I’ll go back to the village with your old man and tell everyone about the meal."

"Mommy, I want to go back to the village and play!" Zhou Momo sidled up, tilting her head back with eyes full of anticipation. "I haven’t played with Huahua and Dabai in so long. I bet they miss me, too."

"Alright, we’ll take you with us," Zhao Tieying said, gently tapping her on the nose.

"Auntie, you all go on ahead. I’ll wash the rest of the dishes so you don’t have to rush back," Zhao Hong offered.

"Alright then, Zhao Hong. Thanks for your hard work." Zhao Tieying smiled and nodded, then called over to Zhou Miao. "Go upstairs and get changed. We should head back soon, or we’ll miss everyone before they take their afternoon naps or go out."

Zhao Tieying then picked up Zhou Momo and carried her upstairs as well.

When the three of them came back downstairs, they looked completely refreshed, all dressed in new clothes.

Comrade Zhou was wearing a Mao suit with western-style trousers, his feet shod in a pair of well-polished leather shoes. On his wrist was his Shanghai-brand watch.

Mrs. Zhao wore a floral blouse with a red knit cardigan. Her hair was tied back, revealing a pair of glittering gold earrings. On her feet were the same leather shoes Zhou Yan had bought for her.

Zhou Momo had changed into a thin wool sweater, over which she wore the little brown leather jacket Duan Yu Yan had given her that day. She even had a little wine-red hat on her head. It seemed Mrs. Zhao was already putting her newfound fashion knowledge to use on Zhou Momo.

"What do you think? Do we look the part?" Mrs. Zhao asked Zhou Yan.

"You do," Zhou Yan said, smiling and nodding. "You look like you’ve made a fortune in town."

"That’s exactly the effect I was going for." Mrs. Zhao was quite pleased with his assessment. She turned and picked up a magazine that was leaning against the wall.

"Mom, want me to get you a bag for that?" Zhou Yan asked.

"What do I need a bag for?" Mrs. Zhao shook her head. "It only looks natural if I carry it in my hand," she said, dead serious. "Pulling it out of a bag would look too deliberate. But if I’m just holding it, it’s different. Everyone will be able to see it."

Behold, the wisdom of an old master of the dramatic arts.