"Don't tell me that old bastard Wang Mingliang actually got the jump on us?"
Qian Changjiang looked at Guo Weihua, who had returned looking worried and bitter, and was genuinely getting anxious.
"Old Qian, I'm not one to criticize you, but your ideological awareness needs to improve. You need to keep up with the pace of the nation's development. You're still turning your nose up at her—saying this won't do, that won't do. Do you know what treatment Ms. Lu gives her workers? Trainees get 35 yuan a month, and regular workers get 60 yuan a month. With treatment like that, how could she be a capitalist exploiting the working class? If she were, then every worker in Shanghu Town would be happy to be exploited by her.
Now look what's happened. Dayu Town caught wind of it and came running. I'm telling you, Old Qian, this time we have to be united in our goals and coordinated in our actions. You can't hold us back again. We absolutely cannot let Wang Mingliang steal this out from under us, or we'll have failed the people of Shanghu Town."
"Well, well—I didn't know. Is Ms. Lu really that generous? How many hours a day do they work?"
Although Qian Changjiang's face showed some embarrassment, he still had lingering doubts. Surely paying such high wages meant they'd have the workers putting in overtime day and night, right? If that were the case, they might earn the money, but their bodies would be ruined. You couldn't just look at short-term gains.
"Hmph. Eight hours. A strict eight-hour work system. Overtime comes with separate bonuses. You see, the prejudice in people's hearts is like a mountain."
"I just didn't know, that's all. So what do we do now? I'll follow your lead. We can't let that old bastard Wang Mingliang get his way."
Shanghu Town, Beiquan Production Brigade.
These past two days, whenever the Lu family stepped outside, they'd be surrounded by villagers, all asking about Lu Chuyu's plans to invest in building the factory.
Shi Cuixia had lived in the village for so many years, but this was the first time she'd been so flattered, and she wasn't quite used to it yet.
"My niece did discuss building this factory with Secretary Guo of our commune. It's a food factory, specializing in instant food products. As for the specifics, I'm an illiterate woman—how would I know the details? But my niece did say that the child's father will be the factory director."
"Cuixia, we've been old friends for years now. Once the factory is built, can you find a spot for my eldest son? He's got the strength of an ox. He definitely won't let you down."
"My nephew's wife passed away before the new year. How about I bring him over tomorrow to meet Baozhen?"
"Granny Sun, don't you go spouting nonsense. Our Baozhen's looks can't be matched anywhere in the surrounding villages. Your nephew's a widower—how could he be worthy of her? Cuixia, let me tell you, my nephew is three years younger than Baozhen, still a young bachelor, and his family isn't badly off either. As the saying goes, 'A wife three years older is like holding a gold brick.' How about I bring him over one of these days so you can take a look?"
"Lin Lanhua, you shameless old thing! Trying to steal my thunder, are you?"
Just as the two women looked about to come to blows, Shi Cuixia hurried forward to mediate. "Stop arguing, both of you. I know you mean well, but our Baozhen's health hasn't fully recovered yet. Her father and I have already decided—we'll keep Baozhen at home first to properly recuperate. As for matters of the future, we'll discuss them later. And as for the factory hiring, although her father will be the director, he doesn't have the final say either. My niece said there will be a unified recruitment exam and such. I don't understand the details myself."
After hastily dropping a few words, Shi Cuixia hurried back home.
Although she enjoyed being flattered by the villagers, her husband had long since told her that she must never privately promise anything to anyone.
But Baozhen's marriage prospects—that did make her heart stir a little. Granny Sun's nephew was a widower, and if her niece hadn't come looking for family, he might have been a suitable match. But now the Lu family was different. Once Baozhen's health improved, Lin Lanhua's nephew might be worth meeting.
Never mind village boys—even young men from town were something Shi Cuixia dared to consider now.
Baozhen took after her father in looks, had a good temperament, and was capable of bearing sons. Although she was divorced, Baozhen was now the daughter of a factory director. She was a match for any young man.
"Mother, do you want to go to Uncle's house?"
Lu Baoxi sidled up to Shi Cuixia when she returned. She knew her mother had gone out just to show off, and she wanted to do the same. She still hadn't forgotten the looks her aunt and cousin had given her during the New Year—like they were looking at something filthy.
No mother knows her daughter better. Shi Cuixia naturally understood what Lu Baoxi was thinking. Every time she went back to her natal family during holidays, didn't she always suffer their disdain? Her sister-in-law's barbed remarks left a bitter taste in her heart. She sighed—it was all because of poverty.
"We're not going. You've already taken several days off. Tomorrow, have your brother bike you to town. No matter what, you need to get your high school diploma. As for your uncle's family—once the factory is built and your father becomes director, they'll come to us on their own."
Lu Baoxi said "Oh." Anyway, sooner or later they'd all be jealous of her. From now on, she, Lu Baoxi, would be the daughter of a factory director.
The next day, before dawn had even broken, Shi Cuixia was up, checking the small jars of pickled vegetables she had prepared and packed the night before.
Lu Baohua walked out yawning. "Mother, what delicacies hasn't Cousin ever tasted? Do I really have to bring these to the town guesthouse?"
Shi Cuixia shot Lu Baohua a glare. "What do you know? It's the thought that counts. I may not have many skills, but my pickled vegetable craftsmanship is something I can be proud of. This jar contains pork chili paste—remember to mention it can be stored in a cool place for about ten days or so. This jar is pickled vegetables, great for appetizing the stomach with congee in the morning, and it can last one to two months. If she likes it, tell her to just send word through someone anytime, and I'll make more for her. These two jars are for Baoxi to take to school—don't mix them up."
"Don't worry. One's this big, the other's this small. Even an idiot could tell them apart."
"Mother, Second Brother, look—doesn't this dress look good on me?"
Lu Baoxi was wearing a yellow floral-print dress, her face beaming with delight.
Shi Cuixia stepped forward and swatted her. "You child, spring chill and autumn freeze—aren't you afraid of getting arthritis in your old age? Take it off right now and save it for next summer."
"Oh, Mother, take a closer look—I'm wearing stockings on my legs. The stockings Cousin gave me. I'm not cold."
Lu Baoxi naturally didn't want to change. The thought of her classmates gasping in admiration and envy today had kept her awake until the wee hours of the night.
"Mother, these past couple of days it's only chilly in the morning and evening. Baoxi can just drape a padded jacket over her legs in a bit."
"I can't be bothered with you two. Go ahead and be vain. When you're older and your knees ache from arthritis, you'll know who suffers."
As the siblings walked out the door, Lu Baohua wore a smug look of seeking credit. "How about it? Your big brother knows you best, right? I want to discuss something with you."
"Is it about borrowing my new bicycle for Sister-in-law to ride?" Lu Baoxi asked directly before Lu Baohua could even speak.
"See, my little sister gets me. Don't worry, I promise to wipe it clean after riding—I'll do it myself."
Lu Baoxi gave a "hmph" and held out her palm. "Give me fifty cents in pocket money, and I'll agree."
"No room for negotiation?"
"No room for negotiation."
Lu Baohua grimaced and reluctantly pulled out fifty cents. "Here you go. Even Zhou Bapi couldn't squeeze me drier than you."
When they arrived at the town's only middle school, Lu Baoxi became the center of attention the moment she stepped off the bicycle—especially with the wheeled suitcase she was pulling, not to mention the floral dress she was wearing.
Lu Baoxi naturally had fair skin, and with that dress on, she looked every bit a city girl, with not a trace of a country bumpkin in sight.
"Lu Baoxi?"
Just as she was basking in the spotlight, Lu Baoxi heard someone call her name and quickly turned around. Talk about a pillow arriving just as you're feeling sleepy—wasn't it her arch-rival Chen Fangfang?
"Good morning, Chen Fangfang."
"Where did you get that dress?"
Chen Fangfang had seen this very dress at the city's department store—it was a hot commodity shipped in from Haicheng, priced at twenty-six yuan. She had begged and pleaded with her mother for ages, but the woman wouldn't part with the money. What right did a country girl like Lu Baoxi have to own it?
"My cousin bought it for me. Not just this dress—look at this suitcase, have you ever seen one like it? It was brought back from abroad. And this watch, a Patek Philippe, also a foreign import."
The moment Chen Fangfang heard this, she understood. Her father worked at the town government, so of course she knew that the overseas Chinese returning to invest in building a factory in town was surnamed Lu. But she had never once imagined it would be Lu Baoxi's relative. In that instant, she only felt miserable—deeply miserable inside. Covering her face, she ran out of the school.
That's it?
Lu Baoxi's eyes were full of confusion. Why did she run? Shouldn't she have accused her of bragging, or even of stealing someone else's? She just believed it? And ran off?
Though Chen Fangfang usually looked down her nose at people and despised the pretty-faced Lu Baoxi the most, she wasn't stupid. Once she knew Lu Baoxi was a relative of the overseas Chinese Lu Chuyu, she knew better than to provoke her. Naturally, she wouldn't dare mess with her again.
But the resentment in her heart lingered—uncomfortable, unsettled.
There was no way she could attend school today, nor in the future. She wasn't going to pass the college entrance exam anyway. She'd have her father go find the principal and pull some strings to get her high school diploma.
.
Lu Chuyu took a taste of Shi Cuixia's pickled pork paste and raised an eyebrow. The flavor was actually quite good. Add some high-tech preservatives to extend the shelf life, and it would be a meatier version of "Lao Gan Ma." Of course, if it were to go on a production line, the ratios would still need experimentation—and in business, you certainly couldn't put this much meat in.
She opened her system panel and browsed the System Mall. There was indeed an advanced production line for dipping sauces, but the Emotion Points required were considerable. She'd set that aside for now—you can't get fat from one bite. What she needed to prioritize was exchanging for instant noodle flavors.
She planned to first exchange for the most classic braised beef noodle and spicy beef noodle flavors. At this time, bowl-packaged instant noodles didn't even exist yet—she'd be pioneering a new chapter in history.
As for the name, she decided to call it "Master Lu."
Lu Chuyu felt that since they planned to expand into foreign export markets, the marketing had to be done well—at the very least, they needed a brand story. Although the recipe was purchased from the System Mall, it could easily be passed off as a thousand-year-old secret formula of the Lu family.
Were there any prominent Lu family clans in Chinese history? Lu Chuyu furrowed her brow and racked her brain for a long time before finally coming up with one that was respectable enough.
The Lu clan of Wu Commandery, one of the four great families of Wu.
China had gone through a special period in its history, and after the "Destroy the Four Olds" campaign, many family genealogies had not been preserved. So if she claimed to be a descendant of the Lu clan of Wu Commandery, she figured no one would have evidence to prove otherwise—though she also had no evidence to prove it herself.
But after all, the branches of a great clan were numerous, and she wouldn't claim to be from the main line. She doubted anyone would bother to challenge her on it.
Although Chinese people never really cared about such lineage—after all, after thousands of years, whose ancestors hadn't produced some notable figure—for Americans, whose history was so short, bloodline and status mattered a great deal.
After all, the less you have, the more you care. She wanted to sell instant noodles in the United States, so this kind of identity and brand packaging was absolutely necessary.