Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

Yi Zhonghai remained silent for a moment, but was eventually persuaded and still left some room for maneuver: "Okay, I'll go to the director's office this afternoon and sound him out first."

This wasn't just something Jia Dongxu was concerned about.

Throughout the factory area, countless people were on the lookout, with relatives, friends, and extended family all scheming how to get on board.

But this expansion of enrollment means that you can't just randomly send people in.

Those positions with low entry requirements and easy placement have long been taken by people like Li Huaide who have connections.

For example, he would casually give the twenty apprenticeship slots in the canteen to two acquaintances of He Yuzhu.

This round of recruitment is for front-line production workers, and even apprentices must have at least an elementary school diploma.

Steel rolling mills need skilled workers who can quickly get started, not people who just want to freeload.

You can't even read a few words? You want to work in a factory? Dream on.

Unless you have powerful backers who can withstand anything.

Liu Haizhong also heard about it.

But he wasn't interested in the job openings.

My eldest son is in vocational school and will definitely become a cadre in the future; my two younger sons are still wearing open-crotch pants and are not old enough at all.

He had his sights set on another position—a leadership role.

If the factory expands, the management team will need to be strengthened. Could Liu Haizhong be moved up a bit?

While others were busy cultivating relationships and seeking connections, He Yuzhu was the most leisurely.

Despite the commotion outside, he plunged into his office, diligently studying an agronomy book, and his skill proficiency improved rapidly.

Occasionally, he would get up and stroll leisurely around the cafeteria, kitchen, and warehouse, a notebook tucked between his fingers, his brow slightly furrowed, as if conducting research, but in reality, he had already made his plans in mind:

It must be done in a greenhouse.

Otherwise, when winter comes, radishes and cabbages will dominate the dining table.

When supplies became scarce at the end of the year, there was no more cabbage, so all that was left was shredded radish to make soup.

In the winter of Beijing, leafy greens are incredibly precious; a bunch of greens can be exchanged for two eggs.

But some people just crave that fresh and tender taste.

As the afternoon workday drew to a close, the last rays of the setting sun slanted into the factory office corridor. He Yuzhu was putting away his apron, planning to take a quick look around the kitchen—as long as the stove was clean and the ingredients were in order, he could pack up and leave.

But just as he turned around, Bai Danyu arrived.

Her simple work clothes accentuated her graceful figure, and her smiling eyes and brows were captivating, yet her gaze was so bright that it was almost impossible to look directly at her.

He Yuzhu's heart tightened, and he subconsciously touched the back of his neck.

The head of the personnel department, Ms. Bai, was once the "dream girl" that many men in the steel mill secretly talked about during their leisure time. Now, standing face to face with her, he felt somewhat awkward.

He coughed lightly and forced a smile: "Section Chief Bai, is this... something you need?"

Bai Danyu smiled gently, her voice as soft as spring water: "Deputy Director He, I'd like to ask first, which cuisine are you best at? So that I can prepare in advance."

He Yuzhu raised an eyebrow and gave her a slightly amused look: "If I say that, don't think I'm being arrogant."

He paused, then said calmly, "To be honest, there's nothing I can't do."

Sichuan, Hunan, Guangdong, Shandong, Huaiyang cuisine—home-style banquets, large pots and small stoves—you name it, I can cook it.

Bai Danyu's eyes flickered slightly, and her brows furrowed gently.

He Yuzhu immediately noticed and added with a smile, "If you don't believe me, go ask Director Li. He's been eating my food for two years, and his palate has become quite discerning."

Bai Danyu's expression softened when Li Huaide was mentioned.

Indeed, you can't fool people about this. Who would go to such lengths to appease a section chief just for a meal? She shook her head gently, her smile returning: "I was being too serious. I'm sorry, Deputy Director He."

"It's alright," he waved his hand. "Just prepare whatever you like. Let me know when you've decided on the time and place."

That's settled.

The news of the steel rolling mill's expansion was still spreading like wildfire in the factory, but for He Yuzhu, life remained as calm as still water.

Even after entering the factory, he remained as low-key as if he were invisible.

Every morning when I arrive at work, the first thing I do is head into the kitchen—checking hygiene, inspecting ingredients, and watching the cooking time.

When Master Luo was stir-frying, his wrist flicked and he casually remarked, "Raise the oil temperature by three points." When Master Zhang cut the meat a little too thick, he didn't even lift his eyelids and said, "Your knife skills are still lacking by a few ounces."

The apprentices didn't dare to breathe loudly, only daring to secretly memorize every word he said.

He Yuzhu is now teaching without holding back at all.

Say everything that needs to be said, and perform everything that needs to be performed.

Whether others can learn it or not is their business.

After all, his skills were honed through decades of hard work and life in his previous life; they couldn't be easily replicated.

His master, Li Yuanguo, was a culinary genius who was one in a century, and he only truly became a master of Sichuan cuisine when he was over forty years old.

In those years of scarcity, when even fresh meat was a rare treat, being able to make a big pot of stew taste good was already the pinnacle of a sixth-level cook's skill.

As for private tutoring? You need connections, opportunities, and someone willing to take you out for experience.

He Yuzhu has this opportunity.

But he doesn't plan to use it himself.

He gave this opportunity to the MCA.

That kid may be a bit dim-witted, but he's as loyal as an old dog.

In his past life, when he was preparing for the postgraduate entrance exam, Ma Hua would squat at the door every day waiting for him to finish class, carrying a thermos filled with his favorite chicken soup noodles.

Having been given a second chance at life, He Yuzhu decided to give him a good boost.

If you open a restaurant in the 1980s, you'll need a trustworthy person to be in charge of the head chef position.

The number of disciples is not important; loyalty is.

He calculated that he could only accept a maximum of three.

Four people are enough to take turns at the banquet; any more and the host will find it too chaotic, and any less and it won't be enough to make the occasion feel right.

If you accompany him to cook for the leader, then the three apprentices will take turns, one person per day, in an orderly manner.

MCA will definitely take one spot; it's a done deal.

The remaining two need to be carefully selected.

Besides teaching cooking skills and providing private tutoring, another thing He Yuzhu cares about is agricultural studies.

He spent his spare time every day studying soil quality, crop rotation, and compost ratios, filling notebook after notebook with notes.

In just a few days, my agricultural skills have reached level four, just one step away from the maximum level.

This ruthlessness also quietly brought him an unexpected reputation.

When leaders from a sister factory came to exchange ideas, it was supposed to be a business trip, but they were treated to an "extra meal" in the canteen—a table full of four cold dishes, eight hot dishes, and a soup, all delicious and visually appealing. They ate until their eyes were red, and they almost slammed their fists on the table and demanded a job transfer.

"Does your steel rolling mill have a royal chef hidden inside?" someone muttered, wiping their mouth. "This isn't a workers' canteen; it's state banquet standard!"

For several days in a row, these leaders from other factories didn't want to leave, and they kept begging Director Yang to let them stay for a couple more days.

"Can we eat for two more days? We'll be eating cornbread when we get back!"

Director Yang and Wang Shushu rolled their eyes as they listened.

I treated you to a nice meal, and now you've become addicted to it?

If everyone ate delicacies every day, who could withstand the reprimand from higher authorities? If leaders seek special privileges and distance themselves from the masses, who would dare to wear that political hat?

It's just a meal, and you want to linger? Get rid of me!

So, after the guests had eaten and drunk their fill, they were all "politely escorted" out.

However, the technical backbone and senior technicians who came with them were retained by the leaders of the steel rolling mill, who offered them good food and lodging and generous benefits—this was the real "talent introduction".

The expansion project is in full swing, and the construction of residential buildings for family members is also progressing simultaneously, with plans to accommodate more than 800 households.

Cement and steel bars were piled up all over the ground, and the progress schedule was broadcasting from loudspeakers all day long.

But none of this has anything to do with He Yuzhu.

He was a cook on temporary assignment; no matter how skilled he was, he wouldn't be allocated an apartment.

It's the weekend, so there's no need to cook for everyone.

He had arranged with Old Lady Li to go to the neighborhood office to transfer the property ownership.

That morning, after he had eaten breakfast, he changed into a faded blue cotton shirt and accompanied Old Lady Li out the door.

The autumn sun shone brightly, and the sycamore leaves along the street rustled. The two people's shadows were stretched long as they walked towards the small office that would change their lives.

There aren't many private savings now, but they're not nonexistent.

As long as you present a valid property certificate before registration, the government will recognize the house as yours; as for those unclaimed, undocumented vacant houses, they will be directly confiscated and distributed to those in need.

The transfer of ownership is extremely simple.

Old Mrs. Li sat down at the neighborhood office and said that the house was left to He Yuzhu by her. She signed her name in black and white, changed the name of the owner, and the procedures were completed on the spot.

As He Yuzhu walked out of the iron gate of the neighborhood office, the sunlight shone directly on his face—from that moment on, the house belonged to the "He" family.

"Grandma, when are you planning to move? I'll give you the money first," he asked as he walked.

Upon hearing this, Old Lady Li immediately waved her hand, glanced around, and lowered her voice: "Zhu Zi, let's talk about it when we get back. The money isn't urgent."

I'll stay a couple more days until I've settled everything in before leaving.

"Look at you, I'll see you out then."

"No, no, no!" she said with a smile, waving her hand. "You're at work, how can you be late? Besides, someone's coming to pick us up."

Back at the courtyard house, He Yuzhu took out 150 yuan without saying a word and stuffed it into Old Lady Li's hand.

With this handover and receipt, the property deed was finalized, and the matter was settled.

But he already had a plan in mind—to swap rooms with Old Zhang from Zhongyuan.

Old Zhang lived next door to him, and his house was exactly the same as Old Lady Li's: symmetrical in location and exactly the same in size.

If we could switch places, we could combine the two rooms, freeing up the kitchen, storage room, and bathroom to create a small suite.

However, this matter has to wait until Grandma Li moves out, and we still have to get past the neighborhood committee – after all, Old Zhang's house is rented, and the property rights are still in the hands of the neighborhood committee.

The front and back yards made no difference to him; as long as the neighborhood committee agreed, Old Zhang was very easy to talk to.

At most, I'd slip them ten yuan as moving expenses, and they'd be overjoyed.

Once the house was settled, He Yuzhu retreated into the house and focused on improving his agricultural skills.

Spending all day surrounded by books can be quite boring.

When he gets tired of reading, he'll casually pick up a piece of wood and carve some little things to relieve his fatigue—carving a spoon, shaving a paperweight. As his fingers fly across the paper, his worries drift away with the wood shavings.

But by now, the other two companies in Zhongyuan have already become restless.

When Jia Dongxu got home that day, he blurted out about the steel mill's recruitment.

As a result, when Jia Zhangshi and Qin Huairu heard this, their eyes lit up, and they kept nagging him about it, to the point that his ears were calloused.

Qin Huairu couldn't wait to give birth and go back to work in the factory.

For her, working in the factory wasn't just about getting a wage—it meant a ration of food and oil for her entire family of three! Suddenly, she could finally breathe a sigh of relief.