Courtyard House: Drunk and tipsy, the whole courtyard exposed at the start.

"Furthermore, the sauce packets need a lot of oil and seasonings, preferably meat sauce or meat chunks. How can this problem be solved?"

"Besides, I have a sweet tooth, so I make some myself every month to stock up on whenever I want, which is fine. But if I were to mass-produce, I'd have to fry it to dehydrate it instantly, which is different from what I'm doing now, making it slowly."

"We must set up a production line, and a very advanced assembly line at that, otherwise the output won't be able to keep up."

"Finally, there's another very important point: powder packets, sauce packets, and the plastic packaging of instant noodles—if this problem isn't solved, we can't turn them into modern products for export."

"So, I think it's unlikely."

Zhang Dabiao shook his head. "This is a practical problem. Even if you have a secret formula, you can't set up a factory if you can't solve it."

After thinking for a long time, Director Zhao decided to go back to the department for a meeting to discuss it further. In addition, when he left, he gave Zhang Dabiao a lot of money in farewell notes—Zhang Dabiao had spent quite a bit of money today.

Zhang Dabiao also breathed a sigh of relief, finally getting rid of these officials.

As for proof, a certificate issued by the ministry can serve as a protective charm even if the wind picks up.

Zhang Dabiao didn't know if these amulets would be of any use, but he would collect them slowly. He planned to fill a wall with them, so that if someone raided his house, displaying all these things on a wall would be quite impressive.

------------

Recently, neither the ministry nor the factory has contacted Zhang Dabiao, presumably because there's a disagreement at the higher-ups. But Zhang Dabiao doesn't care. He's just a figurehead in the ministry, only there for accounting purposes. So what the ministry wants to do is none of his business; he's still a kid! Don't bother him with these national affairs.

However, Zhang Dabiao still goes to Qinjiatun twice a month, though frankly, he's not getting much supplies anymore. And he has to go out in groups, because there are a lot of robbers around; the factory has even issued Zhang Dabiao a gun. Xu Damao also takes two new propaganda team members with him when he goes to the countryside, and they're also armed.

After everyone arrived in Changping together, their respective communes had militia members to meet them. Now, I really don't dare to travel alone.

After the autumn harvest, things became even more chaotic.

However, he still had to bring some fine grains to his master Qin Dingsong and the old hunter every month, and Qin Jingru also had to go back to her hometown to visit her parents. To be honest, if it weren't for Qin Jingru working outside the village, it's hard to say whether her family could have survived these days.

Qin Dingsong's job was to supervise and check Zhang Dabiao's martial arts practice each time, and then correct his mistakes. He was also overjoyed that his apprentice would send him food every two weeks; his apprentice was filial, and in these times, sending food was a great act of filial piety! It made Qin Dingsong proud!

As the brigade leader, his family had no shortage of food. But he was still the clan chief, and he had to take care of the clan's affairs. It was only natural for everyone to borrow grain from the clan chief to make a living.

So, after a while, Qin Dingsong couldn't keep up, but he had no choice but to borrow. In those days, not being able to borrow grain meant certain death! As for the neighboring village… he dared not say!

Moreover, nowadays, a pound of cornmeal can be exchanged for a wife!

This is true!

But nobody does that, because the trade-off is—they can't afford to raise them.

Others can stand by and watch, but he can't; he's the clan leader and the brigade commander.

Today he gave Zhang Dabiao a task—

We can gather 2000 jin of grain in a month!

Zhang Dabiao rolled his eyes: "Master, do I look like grain? Why don't you just eat me?"

"Where am I supposed to get two thousand catties of grain for you?"

"Two thousand catties per month?"

"I'm not saying anything more, I'll just betray my sect."

Zhang Dabiao was also straightforward: "You can only eat as much as your stomach can handle, and you can only sit on as big a stool as your backside can handle. I respect you as the master who taught me martial arts, and showing you respect is an act of honoring my teacher, but that doesn't mean I'm a fool."

Two thousand kilograms a month?

My Youth Mutual Aid Association No. 95 has so many people who farm, fish, dig wild vegetables, and even go to the suburbs to exchange for coarse grains. After more than half a year, we only have 3000 catties of grain. Now you want me to get you 2000 catties a month?

If I were to follow the example of my time-traveling predecessor, I would be sent to my death by a single peanut.

All my hard work and struggles have only yielded a pittance from selling grain. What am I even doing this for?

I'll just choose to betray my sect. At worst, you can cripple my martial arts, I'll recover in two or three days and come back.

Zhang Dabiao's attitude was very clear: he simply wouldn't do it, so what could you do about it?

Qin Dingsong's face darkened, and after a long pause, he finally explained, "Da Biao, there are more than 400 people in our village. Even if we only get 2,000 jin a month, that's only about 5 jin per person, which will only last for two weeks at most."

"I'm at my wit's end. Do you really want me to kneel down and beg you, Master?"

At this point, Qin Dingsong was about to stand up when Zhang Dabiao panicked and quickly stepped forward to press Qin Dingsong firmly back into the chair.

"Master, Master, it can't be that bad, please sit down, we'll think of something, we'll think of something..."

Holy crap! A master kneeling before his apprentice! If word gets out, how am I, Zhang Dabiao, supposed to live?!

Regardless of whether Qin Dingsong tricked him or not, he couldn't let his master kneel down to him.

This is absolutely outrageous!

Putting everything else aside, at least when he taught me martial arts, he truly didn't hold back.

The old hunter standing nearby took a puff of his pipe and said, "Da Biao, this old man is really out of options."

"The people in the clan invited him to drink and give him advice. After drinking too much, the old man started to take on all sorts of things and boasted that he was talking nonsense."

"And I don't know which clansman went to the city and heard about you selling that patent and getting 20, so..."

Zhang Dabiao was speechless: "So you've set your sights on me, huh?"

"Master, Uncle Pi (Old Pizi, an old hunter's nickname), let's be honest, I really can't do this."

"And to be realistic, it's only right that I respect my master, but I have no obligation to help the whole village."

"My hometown is Zhangjiatun, Zhangzhen, Shunyi District, and the situation there is not good either."

"Well, now that I've helped your village, my family from my hometown is asking for my help. What am I supposed to do?"

Zhang Dabiao showed Qin Dingsong absolutely no respect. This wasn't about saving face; it was about the bottom line: once it was crossed, there would be no turning back.

"As for that 20, I've already put it in a fixed deposit. Even if I could withdraw it, so be it—"

"Where am I supposed to buy food in this kind of year?"

"Currently, grain prices in the pigeon market are on average eight times higher. The official price for cornmeal is 4 cents per pound, but the black market dares to sell it for 50 cents per pound. The official price for japonica rice is 20 cents per pound, but the black market dares to sell it for two dollars!"

"The standard price for pink noodles is 18 cents, but it can sell for 5 dollars on the black market!"

"Not to mention pork, which was rationed at eight or nine cents a pound, but sold for five to ten dollars on the black market!"

"Besides, even if you have the money, you might not be able to buy it! How can I buy it?"

As Zhang Dabiao spoke, he slapped the back of his right hand against the palm of his left hand, making a loud cracking sound.

"Even if I were willing to pay up to buy it, 2000 catties a month, if I took the money to the black market, I'd be killed the moment I stepped in, believe it or not?" Since arriving in this era, Zhang Dabiao had never been to the black market, though he had been to the Pigeon Market twice, for safety reasons.

All the time travelers who come here are going to make a fortune in the black market, but Zhang Dabiao wants to play it safe. He has no worries about food and drink, he has land, houses and girls, and there is 20 yuan lying in the bank. If the wind blows, he can run to Hong Kong in an instant. Why should I take that risk?

"Even if I'm not killed, if anyone in our village reports me, I'll lose my life."

This is the most critical part. If they buy 2,000 jin of grain from the black market every month, and then wait for their relatives in Zhangjiatun to come looking for them, that means they'll have to buy 4000 jin a month...

If Zhang Dabiao doesn't die, who will?