N-M Chapter 72 Has a Bottom Line
Chapter 72 Has a Bottom Line
Chapter 72 Has a Bottom Line
The next day, just as dawn was breaking, the morning mist enveloped the still-sleeping city like a thin veil.
Wang Sheng and his mother, Wang Xiulan, were already pedaling their modified tricycle, equipped with a silent motor, through the quiet streets. The wheels rolled over the wet asphalt, making a steady "shush-shush" sound, and the flashlight strapped to the front of the vehicle cut through the hazy darkness ahead.
The air was cool and dewy; a deep breath refreshed my lungs.
"Mom, are you cold?" Wang Sheng glanced at Wang Xiulan, who was wearing a thick coat beside him.
"It's not cold, I've warmed up." Wang Xiulan smiled, her eyes showing her usual resilience. "But you, you stayed up so late last night, why didn't you get some more sleep?"
"I can't sleep just thinking about that pot of soup," Wang Sheng said honestly, his tone filled with eagerness.
The destination is the Xiaguan Wholesale Market, the city's gut, the place that awakens earliest every day.
Two streets away, the hustle and bustle could be faintly heard, rising like a tide from afar. Turning the last corner, a huge shantytown came into view, brightly lit and teeming with people, a world apart from the quiet streets outside.
Various vehicles blocked the entrance, and porters carried huge packages back and forth. Shouts, bargaining, and the sound of goods hitting the ground mingled into a lively and noisy scene.
Today's goal is clear: the essential ingredient for Huainan beef soup.
Most importantly, it's made from the finest beef shank.
Upon entering the poultry section, a cacophony of smells assaulted the senses: the sweet, raw odor of fresh meat, the distinctive gamey smell of animals, the moisture from washing the floor, and the stench of medicated hides and furs piled up in the corners…
The atmosphere here is primal and raw, proof of the earliest stages of the food chain. The ground is always damp, reflecting the stark white light from the ceiling; one must carefully avoid blood and bone fragments as one walks.
Wang Xiulan walked familiarly towards the beef bone and side dish section, buying her breakfast necessities along the way. Wang Sheng, on the other hand, composed himself, his sharp gaze sweeping over each stall.
His gaze moved between the hanging meat fans, and deep in his consciousness, the skill called [Eye of Ingredients] silently activated.
The surrounding noise seemed to lessen, and his attention was highly focused on the texture, color, and fat distribution of the meat.
Many pieces of meat look good, but with a skilled eye, the details become apparent: the hind leg meat has a slightly duller sheen, indicating declining cell activity; the rib slice has a good fat-to-muscle ratio, but the muscle fibers are loosely connected, making it prone to falling apart after stewing.
Finally, he stopped in front of a stall with a wooden sign that read "Sichuan Yellow Beef - Freshly Slaughtered Today." The red paint on the sign was a little faded, giving it a genuine look. On the hooks, several slices of beef were still steaming slightly, as if they had just come out of a refrigerated truck.
His gaze was fixed on the rightmost shank.
The meat is a deep, even, and vibrant ruby red. The muscle fibers are tightly bound together, interspersed with translucent, evenly distributed tendons and fat like snowflakes. In the eyes of an expert, this piece of meat seems to be surrounded by a very faint, healthy, and abundant "aura," indicating that it comes from a healthy, well-fed cow in its prime, and that it was slaughtered and processed properly, with a freshness close to perfect.
It is it.
Wang Sheng was resolute.
The most important goal has been achieved!
Get it right!
"Hey! Boss Wang! Here to pick out beef so early?"
A loud voice, with an unmistakable Sichuan-Chongqing accent, rang out, instantly drowning out the surrounding noise.
Wang Sheng was taken aback and turned his head.
Call him? He's a frequent shopper at this market, but aside from a few regular vendors, he's not exactly a familiar face.
Until I saw the person's face clearly—a square face with thick eyebrows.
It was the Sichuan restaurant owner who had once guided him on the essence of pig's trotter soup!
Today he was wearing a faded but exceptionally crisp cotton chef's uniform, with the sleeves neatly rolled up to his elbows, revealing his well-defined forearms. He was directing two young men to hang half a piece of beef on a high hook.
Upon seeing Wang Sheng, his eyes lit up. He strode over past the cutting board, wiping his hands on his apron as he walked.
"Brother Chen! Good morning!" Wang Sheng remembered that his name was Chen Qiming and immediately greeted him with a smile. "The cafeteria is looking to introduce a new soup, so I'm looking for a good piece of beef."
"Huainan beef soup?" Chen Qiming approached, his large, fan-like hand patting Wang Sheng's shoulder with warmth and force. Wang Sheng could feel the roughness and strength in that hand. "Goodness! Coming to this at this time of year is really brilliant! You've got a lot of tricks up your sleeve, kid!"
He moved closer to the shank meat that Wang Sheng had his eye on, not touching it with his hands, but squinting his eyes and flaring his nostrils as if trying to catch the slightest scent. He carefully examined the texture and luster of the cut surface of the muscle, then nodded emphatically: "Sharp eye! This is the best shank heart from today's first batch. The tendons are beautifully formed, it's good meat from a lot of activity, it'll be very gelatinous when stewed, not dry, and very fragrant!"
Just as Chen Qiming raised his arm to point to the direction of the tendons in his flesh, Wang Sheng caught a glimpse of an old, bluish-black tattoo on the outside of his forearm—it seemed to be the tail of some kind of coiled creature, with rough and even somewhat ferocious lines, the ink color blurred and faded due to its age.
Chen Qiming keenly noticed that Wang Sheng's gaze lingered for a moment.
He paused for a second.
Then, to Wang Sheng's surprise, instead of trying to hide it, he openly and even with a hint of "let you see clearly" rolled up his left sleeve again, all the way up to his arm.
A complete dragon tattoo is displayed. The dragon's body is coiled, its head held high, and its menacing posture exudes an old-fashioned,江湖 (jianghu, a term referring to the world of martial arts and chivalry) vibe.
But the marks of time are obvious: some lines are blurred, the ink is of varying shades, and in some places even tiny, skin-colored spots have appeared.
Chen Qiming grinned, a smile that held a worldly wisdom honed by experience, and a clear, self-deprecating humor about his youth: "Back then, I was so naive. I watched too many Hong Kong gangster movies, and I thought having a dragon tattoo on my body was so cool, so menacing, I wouldn't be afraid of anything." His tone was calm, as if he were telling someone else's story. "Back then, I followed some fellow villagers to the docks in Guangdong, carrying heavy loads, earning a meager living. One day I made a small fortune, and on a whim, I went to the tattoo artist I thought was the coolest at the time and got this tattoo."
He rubbed the most faded dragon scale area on his arm with the rough fingertips of his right hand, his eyes somewhat distant: "I only slowly came to understand later that this thing, when carried on your back, is not necessarily fierce, but in people's eyes, it is easy to have a preconceived notion."
He looked up at Wang Sheng with sincere eyes, "People with tattoos aren't necessarily bad people, I know that, and you probably know that too. But many people don't know that, or they instinctively want to be on guard. It's like when you see a snake, even if it's not venomous, your first reaction is still to take two steps back, right? Some impressions, once planted, are hard to change."
"Alright, let's not dwell on these old stories." Chen Qi suddenly waved his hand, bringing the topic back on track, and resumed his cheerful demeanor. "You're making beef soup, what kind of main dish are you planning to serve it with? If it's just soup, the students probably won't be full."
"Prepare to serve with sesame seed cakes, or some potstickers," Wang Sheng replied.
Chen Qiming's eyes suddenly lit up, and he slapped his thigh again, this time making himself hiss: "Hey! You've come to the right person! This combination is remarkably similar to our Sichuan Juntun Guokui (a type of flatbread) with hot and sour soup!"
He got excited and leaned against a nearby cement pillar, gesturing wildly with his hands, spittle practically flying from his mouth, as if a steaming bowl of food were right in front of him: "That Juntun Guokui, hey, that's real skill! The dough has to rest thoroughly, the flaky pastry has to be fragrant, then you wrap it around a spicy beef or pork filling, roll it into a round cake, stick it on the griddle, drizzle oil, and slowly bake it. When it comes out of the oven, the outer shell is golden brown, layers of flaky pastry, and when you touch it, it crumbles! One bite, and 'crunch!' Your mouth is filled with the aroma of wheat, the fragrance of flaky pastry, and the spicy and savory flavor of the meat filling!"
He swallowed hard and continued, "At this time, a bowl of piping hot and sour soup is the perfect accompaniment! It must be made with a thick pork bone broth as the base, along with kelp strips, tender tofu strips, and duck blood curd. You have to be generous with the pepper and Baoning vinegar. The sourness must be just right, and the spiciness must be intense. One sip, and it warms you from your throat to your stomach, and you'll instantly break out in a sweat on your nose! Or you can have a kelp soup, made with a broth of old hen stewed until the kelp strips are tender and soft, fresh and flavorful."
"There are many ways to eat it! You can break open the crispy guokui (a type of flatbread) and soak it in the hot and sour soup, letting it absorb the broth until it's soft on the outside and crispy on the inside, full of flavor; or you can hold the guokui directly and dip it in the special red chili oil sauce on the side, which is fragrant and spicy, doubling the crispiness! After a bowl of hot soup and a hearty guokui, the satisfaction is truly substantial. No matter how old you are, you'll feel full after eating it!"
Wang Sheng listened intently, as if the crispy sound, the tangy and spicy aroma, and the satisfying feeling of fullness were already rushing towards him. He couldn't help but nod and say, "Brother Chen is absolutely right! Hot soup with hearty pastries is the perfect match for autumn and winter. It warms you up, satisfies your hunger, and makes you feel comfortable."
"That's right!" Chen Qiming shook his head smugly.
Just then, a series of rapid flapping and rustling sounds came from the stacked iron cages next to them.
Wang Sheng turned his head and saw several gray-furred, red-eyed live rabbits, restlessly fidgeting in their cage, their noses twitching.
A thought suddenly struck him.
When Su Weiwei was helping to clean up the day before yesterday, she seemed to casually mention that she hadn't had authentic Sichuan-style spicy braised dishes in a long time, especially rabbit heads, which were particularly delicious and made her mouth water just thinking about them.
He didn't pay much attention at the time, but now that he thinks about it...
If a special Sichuan-style braised dish, such as spicy rabbit head, could be added to late-night snack stalls or future boxed meals, would it become a new hot item?
Sichuan's braised dishes, especially spicy rabbit heads, are a nationwide sensation and a dish that people lick their fingers and crave.
And the man in front of you, Brother Chen, is a genuine Sichuan restaurant owner.
"Brother Chen," Wang Sheng pointed to the cage of rabbits and asked casually, "Your Sichuan cuisine is known for its braised dishes, right? Is there anything special about how you prepare this kind of rabbit for braising?"
"A rabbit?"
Chen Qiming raised an eyebrow, perked up, and walked to the cage to examine the rabbit inside. "That has to be our Sichuan spicy rabbit head! The soul of late-night food stalls, the perfect dish to accompany drinks! Don't underestimate it; the skill lies in the braising. It has to be flavorful, spicy enough to satisfy, and numbing enough to last. The key is the pleasure of sucking it out—the marrow, brain, and cheek meat from every crevice, bit by bit. That taste is something even a god wouldn't trade! Paired with an ice-cold beer, or our hometown's traditional herbal tea, it's absolutely fantastic!"
Sure enough!
Wang Sheng was certain.
He stopped beating around the bush, straightened up, and his expression became serious and sincere: "Brother Chen, to be honest, I'm particularly interested in your braised rabbit head skills. Not only do I crave it myself, but I'd also like to see if I can make something special for the cafeteria."
He paused, looked directly at Chen Qiming, and said, "Tomorrow at noon, after I finish my breakfast stall business, can I go to your shop to learn this skill from you? How much would the tuition be? Just tell me."
Chen Qiming was taken aback at first, then burst into laughter, patting Wang Sheng hard on the back (making Wang Sheng stumble): "Hey! Don't mention tuition! Don't be so formal! Last time you asked me about the cooking time for that pig's trotter soup, I went back and thought about it, made some changes, and hey, the taste is definitely on another level! There's an old saying in our line of work: skill for skill, friendship lasts a lifetime! Come over tomorrow at noon, I'll make room for you in the kitchen! I'll show you every step clearly, from selecting rabbit heads, caramelizing sugar, preparing the old braising liquid, adding spices! I guarantee you'll learn it!"
"Thank you so much, Brother Chen!"
Wang Sheng was overjoyed; this was an unexpected delight, a complete turn of events.
Not only can you learn new skills, but you can also deepen your friendships with your peers.
"Don't mention it! I'll be waiting for you tomorrow!" Chen Qiming said heartily.
Having settled the matter, Wang Sheng was in high spirits. Pointing to the shank meat he had already set his sights on and the beef bone next to it, he said, "Boss, that's all. Weigh it!"
The stall owner was a lean, middle-aged man who worked quickly and efficiently, weighing the beef and calculating the price while muttering to himself, "The young boss knows how to pick—oh, by the way, the price of beef has dropped a bit today, it's 50 cents cheaper per pound than last week."
"Oh? The price has dropped?" Wang Xiulan asked as she walked over carrying a large bag of beef bones, tofu skin, and fresh cilantro.
"That's right!" The stall owner sighed as he skillfully wielded his heavy cleaver, neatly chopping open the bone to reveal the plump marrow inside. "I heard from people upstream that there's been another batch of beef coming in from abroad recently. The news says that Argentina is almost paying off its debt to the United States by exporting beef. Sigh, those of us who raise livestock and do wholesale in China are getting tighter and tighter."
Thump! Thump! Thump! The cleaver landed powerfully and precisely on the thick wooden chopping board, making a dull thud.
"The market was good a couple of years ago, and meat prices were high. I was bold and followed the trend to hoard some futures. Hey, I actually made some money. I got cocky back then and even bought a Mercedes-Benz."
He pointed to the mud-covered, weather-beaten Wuling Hongguang van in the corner behind his stall, chuckled self-deprecatingly, and said, "Now? Sigh, I sold the Mercedes a long time ago and got this old buddy back to haul goods. In this market, we get up earlier than chickens and work harder than oxen, just trying to make a living and save up some hard-earned money to send our kids to school. We can't think about anything else."
After buying all the ingredients—beef, beef bones, and side dishes—the back of the tricycle was piled full and heavy.
Wang Sheng and Wang Xiulan rode their bicycles back to the familiar campus in the gradually brightening morning light.
Back in the cafeteria's backyard, the mother and son immediately began the intense pre-processing work.
The beef is immersed in clear, cold water, and the blood slowly seeps out; the beef bones are cracked open with the back of an axe, revealing the tempting milky white marrow; the tofu sheets are tied into knots, and the cilantro is washed clean after removing the roots.
Wang Xiulan stroked the expensive piece of beef shank, still feeling a little distressed: "The quality of this meat is good, but the price is really—are we really going to wait until tonight to use it? Won't the flavor be lost after sitting for so long?"
Wang Sheng carefully dried the surface of the beef with a clean cotton cloth, then wrapped it tightly in plastic wrap, as if it were a precious treasure.
He opened the professional refrigerator, which was quite expensive and featured precise temperature control and rapid cooling functions, and carefully placed the beef into the middle shelf.
"Mom, don't worry." He closed the refrigerator door, listening to the deep, reliable hum of the compressor as it started. "This is what we're going to do tonight. Good things are worth waiting for, and they need to be prepared. This refrigerator is excellent at locking in freshness. If we leave it out overnight, the flavor compounds will slowly blend together, which might even be better than cooking it right away."
Zhao Gang and Chen Mo, who were helping to move things, watched the refrigerator door close and then looked at Wang Sheng. Their curiosity and anticipation were almost overflowing, as if they could already smell the rich aroma of tonight's soup.
Wang Sheng couldn't help but chuckle, waving his hand like he was shooing away chicks: "Alright, alright, stop staring at me like that! Have the fried dough sticks and noodles risen properly? Has the soy milk been fermented? Are the side dishes ready? There's still so much work to do! Once the soup is ready tonight, you'll all have a share. Watching you like this now is just pointless!"
In the morning, during breakfast time.
The queue in front of window number 07 was still a long, winding line. But today, a distinctly different emotion, a mixture of anxiety and excitement, was surging within that line.
The students moved slowly with the line, craning their necks and twitching their noses like little dogs, trying to catch even the slightest hint of rich aroma in the air filled with the scents of fried food and soy milk.
"Senior! Boss Wang!" A familiar-looking boy leaned against the windowsill, his eyes shining, his voice low but unable to contain his excitement, "Give me a hint? Just one sentence! Is it beef 'soup' tonight?"
"Brother Wang, stop teasing us!" A tall, muscular athlete's loud voice drew everyone's attention. "There are hundreds of threads about it on the forum! Our dorm's late-night chat was all about it last night; we were so craving it we couldn't sleep!"
Wang Sheng's hands moved so fast they were almost blurry. He picked up fried dough sticks, filled glutinous rice balls, packed and mixed rice noodles, and collected money and gave change. The process was as smooth as an assembly line, yet it carried the unique warmth of handmade work.
He raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the young, eager faces filled with longing, and a calm and confident smile involuntarily appeared on his lips.
"What's the rush?"
His voice was steady and clear, reaching everyone's ears: "Good food is worth the wait, good soup is worth the wait. Come tonight, and you'll know everything, won't you?"
He paused deliberately, noticing many students instinctively holding their breath, before slowly and deliberately speaking, as if making a solemn promise: "Don't worry. I guarantee that what's in that pot tonight will absolutely be worth your wait; it will definitely taste exactly what you've been hoping for. And—"
His eyes gleamed, and his tone became more emphatical: "The soup must be piping hot, thick and milky white, and its aroma will waft for miles; the meat must be plentiful, large chunks, and tender and flavorful; after eating, you'll feel warm all over, completely satisfied, and go home with a satisfying burp!"
"Poppy hot and creamy white! The aroma wafts for miles! Plenty of meat! Big, tender chunks!"
The queue in front of window number 07 erupted in cheers!
"Meat galore! Big, tender chunks! Did you hear that?! Boss Wang is awesome!"
"I can't take it anymore, I'm starving! Why is it only morning?!"
"What time does it start tonight? I don't have classes this afternoon, so I'll come early to stake out the place!"
Seeing the students' enthusiasm ignited instantly, and their almost tangible anticipation, Wang Sheng's initial slight unease completely vanished.
He lowered his head and continued his work, but the smile in his eyes deepened.
This is exactly the effect I wanted.