16
The First Small Goal: Selling Like Crazy
For over half a month straight, Wang Xiao leveraged her advantage as a transmigrator to sell recipes like hotcakes.
Truly, nearly every notable restaurant and braised food shop in Jinning City had become her customers.
She once again deeply appreciated the importance of connections and the sincerity of people in 1990—not a single establishment attempted to exploit her stored knowledge without payment. The only point of contention between both parties was whether she could lower the price by another hundred yuan.
Of course not.
That was pure, gleaming cash.
After twenty days, Wang Xiao’s personal assets had skyrocketed from 369.4 yuan when she first returned from Zhou Town to 14,433.4 yuan, which even included her newly received November salary of 64 yuan.
Tsk, Wang Xiao felt she had set her small goal too modestly when adjusting for the times. Being a “ten-thousand-yuan household” was nothing special; one would need to be a millionaire to truly claim achieving a small goal.
Naturally, she didn’t dare say this to her parents—she was afraid of getting scolded.
After all, Comrade Wang Tiejun and Dr. Chen Yanqiu’s combined income over nearly three years paled in comparison. Flaunting such wealth so blatantly could easily earn one a brick to the head.
Regardless of how dumbfounded her parents were, every buyer of her secret recipes was beaming with joy.
Uncle Pang practically treated Wang Xiao like royalty, showing up every few days with braised food in hand to share drinks with Old Wang. He’d skillfully steer the conversation with hints and sweet talk, only to reveal his true intention at the last moment.
“Let’s be direct, dear niece,” he’d say. “How much for that recipe book you have? Your uncle is asking on behalf of the food company—they’re willing to pay twenty thousand for it.”
Chen Yanqiu gasped in shock. Having not accompanied her husband and daughter on their rounds to restaurants and braised food shops, she lacked firsthand experience and couldn’t comprehend how a few recipes could generate so much money.
Uncle Pang, however, didn’t find the price excessive in the slightest. After all, adding Mao Roast Duck, Rattan Pepper Chicken, and Braised Chicken Feet to their Dongzhimen braised food shop’s menu had boosted their revenue by half compared to the busiest summer period—even after the start of winter.
Not only did nearby residents bring their own bowls to buy braised food for meals, but workers from the area also stopped by after work with their lunchboxes to take some home for their families.
What did that mean? It meant money.
In just one week, the braised food shop had already recouped 1,200 of the 1,800 yuan spent on purchasing the secret recipes—the payback speed was astonishingly fast.
The situation was similar for other braised food shops under the food company.
Here’s the key point: each braised food shop paid for the recipes individually. Although they all answered to the same parent company—the food company—they still competed with one another. There was no reason to freely share a coveted “martial arts manual” once obtained.
Even if Uncle Pang had such noble intentions, Wang Xiao would never agree.
In the end, every shop acquired the recipes at the same price: 800 yuan for Mao Roast Duck, 500 yuan for Rattan Pepper Chicken, and 500 yuan for Braised Chicken Feet.
Wang Xiao sold to six shops in one go, essentially covering the entire city. From this alone, she earned 10,800 yuan.
So, would she magically produce recipes worth twenty thousand yuan out of thin air? Of course not.
Even though she hadn’t taken math during her postgraduate entrance exams, she hadn’t forgotten the basic arithmetic learned during nine years of compulsory education. When retail prices were high and sales were guaranteed, why would she sell at a clearance discount?
She shook her head firmly, genuinely regretful: “Uncle, that book is already gone.”
She explained, “It used to be on the easternmost side of our library’s reading room. Last year, with all the school gatherings, the library got taken over. I couldn’t get in for a long time. After they cleaned and reorganized, many books went missing, including that one. I’d actually wanted to bring it home for my mom to see.”
Chen Yanqiu listening nearly rolled her eyes—this damn girl, bring it home for your mom? More like you wanted your mom to burn it as an offering for you.
Hmph! So slick about it, must’ve done it plenty of times before.
But she and Old Wang hadn’t gotten a single taste—so who was eating all those offerings? None other than that Chaiba dang surnamed Ruan and his family.
Just thinking about it made her blood boil.
Uncle Pang listened with a heart-wrenching pain, stomping his foot hard: “Those bastards must’ve stolen it and taken it abroad. Every last one of them—traitors to the country!”
Wang Xiao paused a moment before realizing he meant the college students and teachers who’d left the country during the recent turmoil. She gave an indifferent “Oh” and offered no further comment.
Uncle Pang then eagerly pressed Wang Xiao: “Do you at least remember what dishes were in the book? Write them down from memory—let your uncle get a glimpse, at least.”
Wang Xiao flashed a standard eight-tooth smile, though her tone remained apologetic: “Uncle, I really don’t remember much. For my major, it was just leisure reading—I only skimmed through it. Couldn’t let it interfere with my studies.”
Watching Uncle Pang’s face fall into despair and frustration, she threw him a lifeline: “But I’ll try hard to recall. The moment I remember anything, I’ll let you know right away. How’s that?”
She wasn’t worried at all about coming up with new popular dishes—because she didn’t need to invent anything.
The next thirty-plus years could be considered the most prosperous era for the Chinese people, and culinary culture naturally flourished along with it.
When times were lean, a bowl of plain rice with no side dishes still went down just fine. Add a plate of boiled pork slices dipped in salt, and it was even better.
Only when people had full bellies did they have the energy to pursue flavor, constantly innovating and refining dishes to meet diners’ higher expectations.
Right now? They were barely scratching the surface. She still had a whole arsenal of internet-famous foods to roll out. Failing that, down-home comfort dishes like pickled fish and braised chicken could still make a splash.
Uncle Pang had no choice but to emphasize repeatedly: “Then you must think hard—this is all the wisdom of our ancestors.”
Wang Xiao thought to herself, Why always rely on the ancestors? You’ve got to believe in the future. People’s tastes change with the times. If an imperial chef from ancient times cooked for you now, you might not even like it.
Of course, out loud she only assured him: “Absolutely, absolutely.”
And that was the honest truth—why let all those recipes gather dust in her head instead of selling them?
As for not being the first to market them—pfft, hardly any successful brands out there were the original creators.
She wasn’t worried in the slightest.
After seeing Uncle Pang off, Wang Xiao turned back to look at Chen Yanqiu’s expressive face. Without even needing to shift her gaze, she could guess her mother’s unspoken thoughts. She immediately pounced forward, clinging to Dr. Chen like a koala, her words dripping with honeyed sweetness: “Oh, Mom, look, I’ve earned money again. Let me buy you some Miqi Beauty Honey—you should stop using that snow cream. My college classmates all said Miqi works wonders; their mothers use it.”
Chen Yanqiu was the epitome of a typical parent of that era—the kind who struggled to voice their affection, rarely bothering with kind words for their daughter, let such intimate embraces. When Wang Xiao clung to her like a sloth, she instantly felt uncomfortable and instinctively pushed her away: “Enough now, go focus on your job properly. It seems all your energy is going into these crooked paths—don’t put the cart before the horse.”
Wang Xiao thought to herself, Making money is my true foundation.
Outwardly, she played the obedient child: “I’m doing perfectly fine at work; even my supervisor has praised me.”
She wasn’t exaggerating—she had an overachiever’s compulsion. Even though she had zero interest in her job as a warehouse keeper at the research institute, she kept the entire warehouse spotlessly clean and meticulously organized. Once, when the institute director unexpectedly led an inspection and saw the warehouse, he praised her as a “revolutionary screw” that shone brightly no matter where it was placed.
Chen Yanqiu, however, didn’t believe a warehouse keeper could achieve anything remarkable. The thought was almost laughable—her brilliant college-graduate daughter, reduced to a job that even a middle school graduate could handle? Wasn’t that a waste of the state’s cultivated talent?
She addressed her daughter seriously: “You need to talk to your supervisor—professionals should do professional work. The research institute isn’t paying you to clean warehouses; you should be in the lab working on projects. You must never abandon your expertise.”
She herself felt shortchanged as a factory doctor—she should have worked in a hospital long ago, where she could have at least become a top surgeon. Someone like her, who only attended a nursing school, might be one thing, but Xiao Xiao was a college graduate!
Wang Xiao shuddered at the thought.
Was she joking? She was already terrified of getting caught in the crossfire just sitting in the logistics warehouse every day—and now her mother wanted her to move closer to the frontline? She’d rather die than agree.
She quickly brushed it off: “Oh, Mom, adjusting positions isn’t that simple. It’s almost December—it doesn’t make sense to transfer before the year ends; the annual review would be messy. Let’s talk about it next year.”
Heh! What a clever trick—kicking the can all the way to 1991. She could always find another excuse by then.
Chen Yanqiu opened her mouth several times but ultimately just smacked her daughter’s arm harshly, rolling her eyes and scolding, “Stop fooling around and go to bed!”
Wang Xiao obediently went to the bathroom to brush her teeth, wash her face, and take a quick shower before happily diving under the covers in her room.
Truly, ending up in the Wang family in 1990 was her lucky break. Only a steel plant like this—using residual heat to supply hot water to the residential area—could guarantee her a refreshing hot shower every day, even in the dead of winter.
At her uncle’s place in Zhou Town, she never had it this comfortable.
Cozy on her firm-yet-soft palm rope bed, she yawned and plotted her next business moves.
There was no rush to blindly supply more new dishes to her partners in the provincial capital. After all, any delicacy needed time to gain popularity. At least until after the New Year, she had no plans to “recall” any new recipes.
During this period, her focus was on expanding the sales scale.
She had indeed sold to nearly all the presentable stores in the city proper, but there were still the counties below to consider. The provincial capital’s jurisdiction included five counties, each with considerable economic strength.
By marketing the formula under the banner of exclusive offerings for major provincial stores, she figured this round could easily net thirty to fifty thousand yuan.
With that capital, she could consider venturing into the next channel.
Wang Xiao was quite pleased with her plan, unaware that a crisis was looming right behind her.
Just beyond the wall, Chen Yanqiu, having applied snow cream and lying in bed, couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. She kicked her husband and announced solemnly, “No, I must go to the chemical research institute tomorrow to speak with Xiao Xiao’s supervisor.”
The unfortunate eighth-grade fitter was utterly exasperated: “If you have something to say, just say it. Why kick me?”
“If I didn’t kick you, you’d already be snoring.”
“I haven’t even fallen asleep yet.” Wang Tiejun refused to admit it outright, only worrying about one thing: “What do you want to talk to Xiao Xiao’s supervisor about? She’s already working, not in school. If she wants something, she can discuss it with her supervisor herself. It’s not like she’s lost her voice.”
“Lost her voice, my foot!” Chen Yanqiu retorted irritably. “Don’t you know your own daughter? She’s like a gourd with no mouth.”
Wang Tiejun instinctively wanted to argue. In his eyes, his daughter was quite capable now, talking smoothly and more persuasively than salespeople who could charm anyone.
But he still wanted to sleep, so he wisely conceded: “Then what do you suggest we do?”
“No, I still have to go to the research institute and talk to her supervisor.” Chen Yanqiu made up her mind. “It’s because she’s bored with her current non-professional chores that she’s pouring all her energy into these crooked paths.”
If she were still working in the project team like she did in the summer, she wouldn’t have time to bother with selling formulas. Back then, she wished she could split 24 hours into 48 and stay put in the lab without moving, even needing her mother to deliver her change of clothes.
That’s what a distinguished chemistry graduate should be doing!