Republic of China, 1928: Starting from a Wonton Shop

Cold, bone-chilling cold.

Li Chunsheng struggled to open his eyes and saw a blanket of white snow. Winters in Beiping were never fair, especially in the capital at the moment. Beiping was still under Yan Xishan's control, while Fengtian was in Huanggutun, which had been completely destroyed. The situation was turbulent.

He hunched his shoulders, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his tattered cotton-padded coat, where it was slightly warmer. The excruciating pain in his head had just subsided, and he had finally finished processing the memory that didn't belong to him.

Li Chunsheng, 20 years old, is the owner of Li's Wonton stall outside Qianmen in Beiping. His father fell ill a week ago and died despite medical treatment, leaving him only this old shop that he has run for more than ten years, and a three-dollar high-interest loan owed to the Black Tiger Gang.

"This is a hellish start," Li Chunsheng said with a wry smile. In his previous life, he ran a small restaurant but died suddenly in the kitchen. He never expected that when he opened his eyes, he would find himself on the streets of Beiping in 1928.

"Bang!"

A crisp sound broke his thoughts.

A large foot wearing black cloth shoes slammed into the stove in front of them, causing the iron pot, which had been passed down for two generations, to shake violently. The lukewarm soup inside spilled onto the ground with a sizzle, sending up a cloud of white smoke.

"Young Li, it's noon now," said a man with a large pockmarked face, wearing a black cotton-padded jacket and toying with two iron balls in his hands. He had a forced smile on his face. "Grandpa's patience is limited. Yesterday you said your father had just passed away and you were short of money, so you asked for a one-day extension. What do you say today? If you still can't come up with the money, you can forget about this stall and come with me to the mine to dig coal to pay off your debt."

Li Chunsheng looked up; this was Ma San, the person in charge of collecting debts on this street.

In my memory, the body I was in before was already weak. Last night, I was so frightened by these people that I developed a high fever and froze to death in front of the stall, which led to my current self.

"Third Master," Li Chunsheng slowly stood up from the stool, speaking ingratiatingly, "paying back debts is a matter of course; but in this freezing weather, you smashed my pot, how am I supposed to earn money for you?"

Ma San was stunned. This kid usually acted like a mouse in front of a cat when he saw him, and wouldn't even say a word. How come he could stand up straight and speak today? And this kid was actually half a head taller than him.

"Oh ho? Getting sharp-tongued?" Ma San sneered, taking a step closer. "Enough nonsense! Where's the money?"

Li Chunsheng felt his pocket; there were only two copper coins inside.

Three silver dollars, equivalent to several thousand yuan today, was a huge sum for a roadside vendor in an era when a bowl of wontons cost only five copper coins.

"Third Master, there really isn't any right now," Li Chunsheng said truthfully.

Ma San's face darkened, and he was about to make a move when Li Chunsheng spoke up first: "Third Master, please don't make a move! Even if you smash up my stall, I can't conjure up any money; if you arrest me and send me to mine coal, when will I ever be able to pay off the interest on that meager wages? How about this, please give me two more hours, and before I close up shop tonight, I'll try to put together the first interest payment for you."

Ma San squinted at Li Chunsheng. There were already quite a few homeless people and passersby looking over. If he really drove someone to their death, although he could bribe the police, it would still be a problem.

"Two hours?" Ma San glanced at the sky; it was around one o'clock in the afternoon. "Alright, kid Li, I'll trust you one more time. If I don't see fifty copper coins of interest before dark, I'll chop off your hands and stew them into soup!"

After saying that, Ma San spat and led his two henchmen, cursing and swearing, to collect money from the stall next door.

Li Chunsheng breathed a sigh of relief. This was just a temporary measure. Two hours, fifty copper coins, and a bowl of wontons cost five copper coins. He had to sell at least ten bowls.

The problem is, look at the soup in this pot. It's murky and has a fishy smell. There are a few scallions floating on the surface. The minced meat next to it is even more appalling. There's too much fat and too little lean meat. It's also mixed with who knows how much flour. How can anyone eat this? For him, looking at this soup base, he'd be lucky not to vomit, let alone have any appetite.

Just as Li Chunsheng was worrying about the pot of mushy soup, a clear notification sound suddenly rang in his mind.

The Culinary Skills Proficiency System is now activated.

[Host: Li Chunsheng]

Current occupation: Street vendor

[Current Mission: Crisis resolved; earn 50 copper coins within two hours.]

[Newbie gift pack has been distributed: Basic techniques for making broth; wonton making.]

A semi-transparent light blue panel appeared in front of Li Chunsheng.

[Stock Preparation: 0/100 (Beginner)]

[Wonton Making: 0/100 (Beginner)]

Li Chunsheng's lips curled up slightly. As long as one can rely on their skills, there's no problem.

He quickly checked the stock on the stall: a few unwanted pork bones, a third of an old hen's carcass, and a piece of cheap pork skin that he didn't know how long ago he had bought it. The only seasonings were coarse salt, Sichuan peppercorns, scallions, and a piece of ginger.

"It'll have to do, alright." He sighed. There was nothing he could do; the conditions were limited, so he'd just have to make do.

He first poured the murky soup into the swill bucket without hesitation, and then scrubbed it several times.

This action stunned the old man selling roasted sweet potatoes nearby: "Anan, are you crazy? That broth has been used for months!"

Li Chunsheng ignored them and quickly washed the pot and started the fire. The cold wind howled, but the small wonton stall was bustling with activity.

He picked up a few pork bones, flicked his wrist, and precisely smashed the back of the knife into the middle of the bones.

With a crisp crack, the bone split open, revealing the pinkish marrow inside. This bone-breaking technique takes at least two or three years to master.

[System notification: Bone-crushing and marrow extraction, proficiency +1]

Put the bones, chicken carcass, and pork skin into a pot of cold water, bring it to a boil over high heat, and as soon as it boils, blood foam rises to the surface. Li Chunsheng calmly skims off the blood foam.

Half an hour later, a magical change began to occur in the pot that had initially smelled fishy. The gelatinous substance from the melting pig skin made the soup noodles slightly viscous, and specks of fat from the bone marrow floated on the surface. The umami flavor of the chicken frame was completely brought out, and a rich aroma of meat began to waft through the cold air.

The old man selling roasted sweet potatoes next to him sniffed, and his stomach growled loudly, "My goodness, what's that smell? It smells so good!"

At that moment, at the corner of Qianmen Street, a rickshaw puller stopped, panting heavily.

His name was Shunzi. He had just finished a long trip, running all the way from Dongjiaomin Lane to here. His clothes were soaked with sweat, which was then dried by the wind. He was shivering from the cold, and his stomach was already empty. He had a few coins in his pocket that he had just earned, but he couldn't bear to spend them.

"It's fucking cold!" Shunzi rubbed his hands, which were covered in chilblains, and was about to go to the roadside to eat a cold cornbread to tide him over when suddenly, a fragrant aroma seemed to enter his nostrils.