Zhou Yan began to survey his restaurant. The establishnt was two hundred square ters in total. After subtracting the large kitchen, the dining hall was still around a hundred and thirty square ters. It held twenty traditional square tables with plenty of space to spare. It had been wired for electricity, with eight light bulbs hanging from the ceiling.
More than half the startup money had been spent on these tables and chairs, and the materials were exceptionally sturdy.
There was also a courtyard out front that extended all the way to the river embanknt, large enough for several dozen more tables.
The kitchen was quite spacious. The original Zhou had learned his craft in a factory canteen and had laid out the back-of-house quite well: there were dedicated areas for washing vegetables, cutting, and cooking, as well as a separate room for cold dishes. It was fully equipped with all manner of knives and kitchen tools.
A three-burner earthen stove supported two large iron woks and a stockpot. Beside it, chopped Chestnut Wood was neatly stacked waist-high.
A three-tiered spice rack sat by the stove, fully stocked. The top shelf held oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar; the middle held dry spices like Sichuan peppercorns and chili peppers; and the bottom held earthenware jars of broad bean paste and pickled peppers.
There was also an empty space to the side, offering great potential for expansion.
It was a classic case of having all the gear but no idea.
The huge sum of over 1,300 yuan had been blown on this place.
Most private entrepreneurs just starting out would simply set up a street stall to do business. No rent, no need to buy much equipnt—it was all about saving money in any way possible.
But Zhou Yan absolutely loved this kitchen.
These two large iron woks weren’t just for stir-frying; they would be perfect for boiling noodles, too.
[Ding! Main Quest issued: Achieve 100 Restaurant Influence (Gain 1 Influence for each satisfied custor). Accept: Yes/No!
Quest Success Reward: One random recipe!]
A new quest suddenly appeared. Zhou Yan accepted it without hesitation.
Zhou Yan went outside, brought in one of the traditional square tables, and placed it in an empty space to the right of the entrance.
The cypress wood table was brand new. The planks were seamlessly joined with dovetail tenons, and the surface was planed to a mirror-like smoothness. Carpenter Wang’s craftsmanship was excellent.
This would be his noodle-making station. A proper work surface was essential for making hand-pulled noodles.
He took a bag of flour from the cabinet, weighed out a pound, added the right amount of salt and water, and began to knead.
Zhou Yan himself had never kneaded dough before, and the original Zhou had never dealt with pastries or noodles either.
But the mont his hands touched the dough, he began to knead instinctively. With skilled pushes and pulls, the wrinkled ball of dough yielded in his grasp, quickly becoming smooth and soft.
He covered the dough with an enal basin to let it rest. He would have to repeat the process of kneading and resting three tis before the dough would be ready to be pulled into noodles.
While the dough rested, Zhou Yan checked a nearby shelf. It held a dozen or so eggs, a couple of handfuls of wilted green and red chili peppers, and so durable staples like ginger, garlic, and potatoes.
The restaurant hadn’t been open yesterday, so naturally, no ingredients had been prepped.
The restaurant didn’t have a refrigerator, and the October weather wasn’t yet cold enough to preserve things, so at had to be bought fresh daily.
Zhou Yan pocketed his at ration coupons and so money, planning to buy beef for a noodle topping. He wanted to test out a recipe first.
"Brother! Brother! Open the door! It’s Momo!"
Just then, a knock rang out, accompanied by a sweet, childish voice with a distinct Sichuan accent.
A warmth stirred in Zhou Yan’s chest. He slid the bolt open. The door flew inward, and a little bundle of a child stumbled in, about to fall face-first onto the floor.
Quick as a flash, Zhou Yan grabbed the back of her collar and hoisted her up.
She was a tiny thing, as perfect as a porcelain doll, with big, round eyes. Her face still held its baby fat, and her cheeks looked even softer than the dough he’d just kneaded, making one want to reach out and give them a pinch.
Zhou Yan looked at the three-and-a-half-year-old girl in front of him.
’This is... my sister? She’s so cute!’
"Huh?" Zhou Momo kicked her short legs a couple of tis, realized she hadn’t hit the ground, and tilted her head up to look at him with wide eyes. She giggled, "Brother, you’re amazing! You caught ."
"I can’t promise I’ll catch you next ti you fall," Zhou Yan said, reaching out to pinch her cheek. Just as he’d thought, it was incredibly soft.
Her reactions were a beat slow, making her seem endearingly ditzy.
His parents had her late in life. She was the youngest child and the only girl in the Zhou Family. With five older male cousins, she was the undisputed darling of the clan.
Holding Zhou Momo, Zhou Yan looked toward the two people standing outside.
On the left stood a tall, thin, middle-aged man with dark skin. He wore a navy-blue Zhongshan suit and stood with a ramrod-straight back. Though the suit was old and faded, its elbow patches were neatly stitched, and it was washed impeccably clean. His calloused right hand held a piece of beef weighing a little over a pound.
On the right was a short, middle-aged woman in a dacron blouse with a yellow flower pattern on a blue background. Her skin was fairer than that of most won from the countryside. Though fine lines creased the corners of her eyes, her rosy cheeks gave her a vibrant, high-spirited look.
The woman had the sa large, expressive eyes as Zhou Momo, and she was looking at Zhou Yan with a smile.
Zhou Yan opened his mouth, but the words "Dad" and "Mom" felt utterly foreign. He’d never said them in his previous life. And while the original Zhou’s mories and lingering emotions made him feel an affinity for the couple, the words caught in his throat, refusing to co out.
Just then, Wang the Fifth, who ran a noodle stall by the factory gate, sidled over. He peered into the restaurant and muttered, "Didn’t they say the Zhou Yan Restaurant was going under, and Zhou Yan jumped into the Qingyi River?"
Zhao Tieying’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold glare. She spun around, fixed her eyes on Wang the Fifth, and jabbed a finger at him. "You goddamn idiot! Lookin’ like a toad! You’re the kind of foul creature that shuns the sun and festers in the shade! Good for nothin’ but making trouble! You’re so shaless you’d take off your own pants before hangin’ yourself!"
"You got eyes in your head or just a pair of useless balls? All you do is blink, you can’t see a damn thing! What do you get out of spreadin’ baseless lies about my son?"
"You... You shrew..." Wang the Fifth stamred, his face flushing crimson with humiliation.
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