Starting from 1950

"Grandma, slow down, take this flowchart! Use low heat when frying, stir frequently, and be careful not to burn it!" Wang Cui's voice was already visibly tired, but she still patiently and meticulously stuffed a mimeographed "Simple Flowchart for Home-Fried Noodles" into the hands of an elderly woman with white hair, and handed her a five-pound cloth bag.

"I know, don't worry, young lady! I've cooked all my life, I can handle this little thing. Get one for my grandson too, his parents are working the night shift at the factory, we'll cook at home!" The old lady took the cloth bag tremblingly, her eyes full of determination.

"Comrade! Give me two bags! My pot is big!" A burly man stepped forward.

"My family runs a small restaurant with three stoves. Give me three bags of 20-yuan snacks!" A woman wearing a headscarf hurriedly added from behind.

"We're from the middle school next door, and our teacher asked us to help collect them!" A group of teenagers wearing red scarves stood on tiptoe, their little faces red from the cold, but their eyes were bright.

The distribution point was crowded with people. Those who received the flour either carefully held it in their arms or hurriedly stuffed it into the baskets they had brought. Then they immediately turned around and hurried into the deep night of Shenzhou, heading towards their homes with their lights on.

By midnight, with the last bag of raw flour being handed to a seven or eight-year-old girl, all 6 jin of flour prepared by Limin Flour Factory had been distributed.

After much persuasion from Wu Xinxue and the propaganda department, the remaining villagers were finally dispersed, and the group began their journey home.

Su Yang sat in the back of the car, and Wu Xinxue was so tired that she fell asleep leaning against him.

"I wonder how much we can collect tomorrow?" Wang Cui suddenly sighed.

The passengers either closed their eyes to rest or took the opportunity to catch up on sleep.

No one answered her question, or rather, no one could be sure of the answer.

That night, the entire Tiexi district seemed to be ablaze by those 60,000 jin of raw flour.

On this cold winter night, warm lights illuminated the kitchens of countless homes, wafting a unique aroma of caramelized food, quite different from usual.

......

The next day.

A truck slowly drove up to Tiexi Square.

Su Yang, Zhou Zheng, Wang Cui, Zhang Zhenguo, and more than a dozen security officers filed out of the back of the train.

The cold wind whipped up snowflakes that stung people's faces. Everyone stared at the empty square and fell into silence, their hearts sinking to the bottom.

"I knew it..."

Zhang Zhenguo's eyes were bloodshot. He had just opened his mouth to say a few words when he was interrupted by a voice from afar.

"You've finally come to collect the fried noodles! We've been waiting for you for ages!"

The flour mill workers looked in the direction of the sound and saw the wooden door of the tailor shop across the street from the square open, and then one, two, three, and in the blink of an eye, more than a dozen people came out.

Each of them was carrying one or two cloth bags, which were clearly distributed by the Limin Flour Factory yesterday.

"This snow really came at the worst possible time. We were afraid our fried noodles would get wet, so we went to the shop across the street to take shelter from the snow," a man in a Zhongshan suit said with a smile.

After saying that, he shouted across the street, "Come out, everyone! The people from Limin Noodle Factory who collect fried noodles are here!"

As soon as he finished speaking, more than a dozen shops across the street opened their doors almost simultaneously, followed by people carrying large and small bags coming out and walking towards the square, instantly blocking the road completely.

"Hurry up and collect them! Load them onto the truck quickly, or they'll get damp from the snow!" said an elderly man with gray hair, blowing on his beard.

"Come on everyone! Check that your bags are sealed tightly, then just throw them into the car!" Su Yang was the first to react and called on everyone to get started.

Many people who had taken shelter from the snow further away saw this and began to gather in the square, knowing that the people from the flour mill had arrived.

Gradually, crowds surged in from all directions, each clutching a cloth bag tightly in their hand.

"Quick! Help me!" Zhou Zheng's voice trembled, not from cold but from excitement.

The remaining people, as if waking from a dream, quickly began to maintain order.

The truck was quickly filled, but the line of people still stretched as far as the eye could see.

The heavens were kind; the snow actually stopped at that moment.

Zhou Zheng instructed the driver to go back and unload the goods quickly, and to have the other two vehicles come along as well.

After the truck left, he walked quickly toward the platform, stumbling as he did so.

He stood on the platform, his voice choked with emotion, and said to everyone, "Thank you all for your support of our work! And thank you all for your help to the soldiers on the front lines..."

Looking at the dense crowd in the snow, he forgot the words he had thought about all night.

Fortunately, no one laughed at him.

The people in line responded in waves:

"I'm not just supporting you guys, my son's also on the battlefield. Maybe he'll even get to eat noodles cooked by his old man, haha!"

"Me too, my partner went too!"

"My relative is also a soldier. I don't know if he went to the other side of the river, but that doesn't stop me from making noodles for the soldiers on the front lines."

Zhou was supposed to give a speech, but the crowd started chatting amongst themselves, leaving him standing there on the stage.

Zhou Zheng wasn't angry. He smiled and slowly walked off the stage.

With yesterday's experience and the fact that the public could spontaneously throw bags of fried noodles onto the trucks, the flour factory's trucks made more than a dozen trips back and forth by lunchtime.

Finally, no more people came to return fried noodles. Zhou Zheng was anxious to know the total number of noodles that had been returned. He left two security officers to continue waiting, while the others returned to the flour factory with the last half-truck of fried noodles.

Because of the snow, the flour mill's inspection and inventory work was carried out in the warehouse.

Apart from the two workshop workers who were still frying and packaging noodles, everyone else got involved.

Su Yang, Zhou Zheng, and the others sensed something was wrong as soon as they returned to the factory warehouse.

Several statisticians from the logistics and finance departments huddled together, all frowning.

"What's wrong? Did you bring back less fried noodles? How much exactly?" Zhou Zheng's expression changed, and he quickly asked.

"No...it's not too little, it's too much!" Zhao Sanyuan's expression was complicated.

"What!" Zhou Zheng exclaimed in disbelief, wondering if he had misheard.

"How much more?" Su Yang asked.

"Not counting the half-truckload you brought back, that's an extra 4925 jin!"

"???"

"......"

"Did the locals mix coarse grains into the fried noodles? The proportion of refined grains is too low, that won't do! The logistics department will hold them accountable!" Wang Cui pressed.

"Um... Director Wang," Ruan Sumei interjected, "we checked each bag individually, and most of them were still cooked exactly as we sent them yesterday. As for the extra ones, we checked and found that the proportion of wheat flour had increased. For example, a bag that originally weighed 5 jin was returned as 6 or 7 jin."

The scene fell silent; everyone understood what had happened.

After the people took it home, they added more flour and fried it together, which is why there was so much more!

Many people's eyes gradually reddened.

"Are there any that don't meet the standards?" Zhou Zheng asked.

"Yes, but very few, less than 1%, and none of them were burnt. They were just undercooked. Our workshop will process them again in a bit," the workshop director replied.

Zhou Zheng looked up, wiped his eyes, and said in a hoarse voice, "Never mind that for now. Everyone, take stock of the last half-truck and get a total. I'll go check the noodle-frying workshop. The other people's 6 jin have already been fried, but why haven't our 4 jin been finished yet?"

"Snapped!"

Just as Zhou Zheng left, a crisp sound rang out in the workshop—Zhao Sanyuan had slapped himself hard across the face.

"I'm such a fucking bastard. Yesterday I actually doubted whether the people would return the flour they took."

Zhang Zhenguo chimed in with a wry smile, "Me too. I went to the square this morning, got off the bus and didn't see anyone. I thought they'd all taken the flour and weren't returning it, but who knew..."

Many people looked ashamed; from yesterday to today, quite a few shared the same thought as the two of them.

Su Yang couldn't help but chuckle. "Take your time counting. If any mice come, remember to call me from the broadcasting room."

Having said that, he left the warehouse with light steps.

.......

When Su Yang arrived at the broadcasting room, Wu Xinxue was sleeping fully clothed on a makeshift bed on the floor. She heard a noise as he closed the door and suddenly sat up.

"Do you have a script to read?"

She rubbed her sleepy eyes, and only relaxed when she saw that it was Su Yang who had come in.

"Why are you here?"

"Of course I've brought you food!" Su Yang pulled an oil paper package from his pocket as if by magic.

"Wow! Steamed buns! Where did they come from?"

Wu Xinxue's stomach immediately started rumbling when she smelled the aroma. She opened the oil paper package and found two buns inside. She couldn't resist taking a big bite.

Su Yang secretly bought the steamed buns from a breakfast stall next to Tiexi Square, and he kept them close to his chest.

After finishing her steamed buns, Wu Xinxue had no intention of going back to sleep. She got up, wiped her face with a damp towel, and continued reading the daily propaganda materials.

Su Yang lay down on the floor with his eyes closed, feeling utterly bored.

There's been so much going on these past few days. My body can handle it, but I'm mentally exhausted.

About two hours later.

"Xinxue, make an announcement right away! We've just completed the task assigned by our superiors ahead of schedule, and even exceeded it! All 106727 jin of fried noodles have been counted, and we expect to finish packing them by 4 PM this afternoon!" Xu Hongyan pushed open the door, her face beaming with joy.

"Huh? 106727 jin? How come there are 6727 jin?"