Starting from 1950

Zhou Zheng slammed the document stamped with a bright red "Top Secret - Urgent" seal onto the table.

"You know the situation? 100,000 jin! Forty-eight hours! Are there any problems in each department?" Zhou Zheng's voice was not loud, but it struck everyone's heart like a heavy hammer.

"Our security department is fine! Everyone will go down to the workshop to help!" Zhang Zhenguo was the first to speak up.

"Our workshop is fine too. We're still a little short of 10 jin of flour in the warehouse, but we're confident we can meet the production target within 24 hours and won't delay the fried noodle workshop!" Zhao Sanyuan said in a deep voice.

"The moving team is fine too," said Zhang Dashan, the moving team leader.

"Our fried noodle workshop guarantees 20 woks running non-stop for a second, no problem!" Wang Cui and the director of the second fried noodle workshop said in unison.

Ruan Sumei is the packaging team leader, mainly responsible for leading the female workers to pack the stir-fried noodles into grain bags.

It was her first time attending such a meeting, and she was a little nervous. But with Wang Cui's encouraging look, she quickly raised her hand and said, "We're fine with it too."

Zhou Zheng nodded in satisfaction, his gaze sweeping across the faces of everyone present. He said solemnly, "I just heard from the logistics personnel in Andong that it's snowing heavily on the other side of the river! What does this mean? It means our soldiers might survive on just one bowl of fried noodles in this freezing weather! This shipment of 10 jin of fried noodles must be completed! There are no conditions! If we fail, I will voluntarily request that I be court-martialed! Gentlemen! The lives of the soldiers at the front, and my own head, depend on you!"

Upon hearing this, everyone's blood boiled, and they all stood up, ready to shout in unison, "We guarantee to complete the mission!"

"Wait! Wait! I have a problem!"

Su Yang did not stand up with them, and even interrupted the slogans that everyone was about to shout.

"Su Yang!" Wang Cui, who was standing next to him, changed her expression and whispered, "Now is not the time to fool around."

Ruan Sumei also looked anxious, afraid that he would cause trouble.

"Oh? What's wrong with you?" Zhou Zheng looked at Su Yang with some surprise.

He wasn't angry. He understood Su Yang and knew that although the boy was young, he was calm and wouldn't speak without reason.

Su Yang got up from his seat, walked to Zhou Zheng in the main seat, and picked up the chalk amidst everyone's puzzled looks.

Behind Zhou Zheng was a small blackboard with the daily tasks of each department written on it.

He erased the writing and asked Zhou Zheng, "Factory Director, the higher-ups ordered us to fry 10 jin of noodles in 48 hours, right?"

Zhou Zheng didn't understand, but he nodded nonetheless. "That's right."

Su Yang wrote 100000 on the blackboard, and then wrote 48 hours (2880 minutes).

He then asked Wang Cui and the workshop director, "Your two workshops together have 20 pots, right?"

The two nodded, and Su Yang wrote 20 on the blackboard again.

He pressed further, "How many kilograms are in a pot of fried noodles? How long does it take to fry them once? I mean, the time for adding the flour and taking them out of the pot should also be included."

Everyone present knew this by heart. The workshop director blurted out, "We fry 25 jin at a time, and each batch takes a little over 20 minutes to fry. Adding the time wasted... it takes about 24 or 25 minutes in total."

Upon hearing this, Zhou Zheng and Wang Cui's expressions suddenly changed, as if they had grasped something.

"One wok takes 25 minutes to stir-fry one batch, and each batch weighs 25 jin (12.5 catties). That means one wok can stir-fry one jin (0.5 kg) of noodles per minute! If one wok runs non-stop for 48 hours, it can stir-fry 2880 jin (1244 catties) of noodles..."

Su Yang didn't ask anyone else, but instead started writing math problems on the blackboard.

2880 x 20 = 57600

The meeting room fell into a deathly silence.

This is just a simple math problem for elementary school students.

So caught up in our emotions, everyone completely overlooked this problem.

Many people broke out in a cold sweat.

Then came a sense of relief, relief that Su Yang had discovered the problem in advance; otherwise, if they had only noticed it the next day, the consequences would have been...

Zhou Zheng glanced at Su Yang with a complicated expression, feeling somewhat regretful.

How could someone who could remain calm and composed on the battlefield get so emotionally charged while doing logistical work?

"Ahem! As the factory manager, I must first apologize; I have neglected my duties. But..."

Zhou Zheng then changed the subject, "The most important thing now is how to complete this 10-jin task. Everyone, please share your opinions!"

"Could we... add another pot?" someone suggested in a low voice.

"No way!" the logistics chief immediately rejected the idea. "There's not enough time!"

"Then how about increasing the heat and reducing the cooking time for each batch? Or frying more in each batch?" someone else suggested.

"No way! If we overcook it, the whole pot will be ruined. 25 jin is the amount we tested and found to be just right. Any more and it will be undercooked, and it will cause diarrhea for the soldiers on the front lines, which would be even more troublesome." Wang Cui immediately rejected the idea.

With each road blocked, a sense of despair began to spread silently, like a cold tide.

Zhou Zheng's face was ashen, and his fists clenched so tightly under the table that they cracked.

He knew everyone was telling the truth, but orders from the front lines were absolute!

Failure to complete the task makes one a sinner!

His gaze swept over the crowd, finally landing on Su Yang, who was somewhat eager to try in the corner.

"Su Yang, you're also part of Limin Flour Factory. You're quick-witted, what ideas do you have? Speak up!" Zhou Zheng called on him.

All eyes immediately focused on Su Yang.

A teenager was singled out at a decision-making meeting that concerned the fate of the entire factory?

Many people looked puzzled or even dismissive.

But at Limin Flour Factory, no one dared to underestimate this "rat extermination genius".

Su Yang was waiting for Zhou Zheng to call on him. He did have a solution, albeit a risky one.

He stood up, but instead of answering immediately, he gave everyone a heads-up, "I can say what I want. If you think it's feasible after I've said it, you can do as I say. But don't blame me if something goes wrong."

Zhou Zheng's eyes lit up, thinking to himself, "I didn't expect you to actually have a solution?"

He patted his chest and said, "Just tell me what you want, let's discuss the feasibility first, and I'll take full responsibility if anything goes wrong!"

Su Yang's gaze swept over the faces filled with anxiety and exhaustion, finally settling on Zhou Zheng's face. "Factory Director Zhou, leaders, and fellow workers. Relying on these twenty large pots in the factory, producing 100,000 jin in 48 hours is something even a god couldn't do."

These words were like a bucket of cold water, chilling some people to the bone.

But Su Yang changed the subject, his eyes gleaming:

"However, 100,000 jin of fried noodles don't necessarily have to be produced in these twenty pots!"

"What do you mean?" The meeting room was filled with astonishment.

Su Yang took a deep breath. "My idea is... to break it down into smaller groups and mobilize the masses!"

"We'll take the pre-mixed raw flour mix from the factory, ready for direct stir-frying, and divide it into small portions, like... ten pounds per portion! We'll offer it out to the citizens of Shenzhou! They can take it home and use their own small pots and stoves to stir-fry it according to the simple process we provide! After stir-frying and cooling, we'll send it back to the factory for unified inspection and packaging!"

"boom--!"

The meeting room erupted in chaos! This idea was too crazy, too outrageous!

"Nonsense! This is utter nonsense!" Zhao Sanyuan was the first to slam his fist on the table and stand up. "Fried noodles are military rations! They're meant to save the soldiers on the front lines! Let civilians take them home and cook them? What if they take them home and don't return them?!"

"Yes! Su Yang, this idea is too... too risky!" Liu Mancang shook his head repeatedly. "Ordinary people don't have that kind of skill! What if it's undercooked and the soldiers get diarrhea? That could be fatal on the battlefield!"

"Time! Distributing and collecting them, how much time will that take? Forty-eight hours is simply not enough for all that back and forth!" Zhang Zhenguo also raised a real problem.

Questions and objections arose one after another.

This method sounds fraught with uncontrollable risks.