Chapter 93: Zhao Zhenguo Is Stunned

The man smiled as he set down his work, took out a cigarette, and introduced himself—his name was Zhao Zhenguo, Guo Li was his wife, and Director Li was his mother.

“Yimin, thanks for the milk powder.”

He noticed that this time, Zhou Yimin had brought two more bags of milk powder.

They’d previously been worried about the baby having nothing to eat, but now it seemed there was more than enough.

You had to understand, each of these bags was a full jin (about 500g), enough to last several days. And altogether, Zhou Yimin had already brought them six bags.

“Cousin, you’re being too polite,” Zhou Yimin said, accepting the cigarette Zhao handed him but not lighting it.

There was a baby in the house, after all!

Through their chat, he learned that Zhao Zhenguo worked as a workshop supervisor at a noodle factory, and his father was the director of a coal yard—he’d be back soon.

A whole family of directors?

You’re a “Director Family” through and through!

Zhou Yimin couldn’t help but poke fun to himself.

Even so, it was still difficult for their family to get milk powder. That just showed how precious and scarce it was in these times.

“Noodle factory? Cousin, what kind of noodles does your factory produce?” Zhou Yimin’s interest was piqued.

What a coincidence—he had just recently been thinking about how to produce instant noodles. There was no way the steel factory could make noodles, right? That would be a joke.

“We’ve got some at home, I’ll grab some for you.”

With that, Zhao Zhenguo brought out a few packages of noodles. They were part of his internal staff benefits—after all, as a manager at the noodle factory, it was natural to have some perks.

No matter the factory, a portion of their products was typically reserved for their own workers, as welfare items.

It wasn’t just managers—even regular workers would get some during holidays and festivals.

“Dried noodles?” Zhou Yimin was a bit disappointed.

These were the straight kind.

Dried noodles had a long history—China had similar forms as far back as the Tang and Song dynasties, and they were formally produced in the Yuan dynasty, mainly by sun-drying.

Since the founding of the People’s Republic, most dried noodles were handmade, with only a few made by machines.

If they had wave-shaped noodles instead, with a bit of improvement to the process, they could be turned into instant noodles.

“You don’t like dried noodles?” Zhao Zhenguo was surprised.

Come on, they were made of flour! Who didn’t like flour-based noodles in these times?

Zhou Yimin shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t like them—it’s just that there’s nothing new about them.”

“What kind of novelty are you expecting?” Zhao Zhenguo laughed in disbelief.

Having food at all was already a blessing, and you still wanted some new gimmick? This was the first time he’d heard someone talk like that.

Zhou Yimin explained that as a single man, he didn’t like cooking when alone. He hoped to have something fast and effortless to make.

“Has your factory ever thought about making instant noodles?” Zhou Yimin didn’t drop the term “instant noodles” right away, but led into it slowly.

Zhao Zhenguo blinked, then said, “Boiling noodles is already pretty fast.”

Zhou Yimin: “……”

He paused for a few seconds, then said, “But you still have to boil them!”

“What, you want to just eat them dry?” Zhao Zhenguo was shocked.

Zhou Yimin resisted the urge to roll his eyes and said, “What if there was a kind of noodle that didn’t need to be boiled, just soaked in hot water for a few minutes to eat?”

Zhao Zhenguo shook his head. “I can say with certainty—there’s no such thing.”

“No, no, no, Cousin, you’re out of touch! I heard from a friend that a popular type of ramen just came out overseas. It’s called chicken soup ramen, and it’s flying off the shelves.

They say it’s a kind of instant noodle you can eat after soaking it in hot water for two or three minutes.

I was thinking, why don’t we produce something like that too and export it to earn foreign exchange for the country? If it’s such a big hit abroad, why aren’t we doing it too?” Zhou Yimin asked.

Once again, he made up a “friend.”

This kind of information wasn’t hard to dig up. Even though domestic access to information was restricted for ordinary people, the higher-ups had to keep an eye on international trends.

Zhao Zhenguo was stunned.

It took him a while to recover.

Earn foreign exchange?

Who wouldn’t want that?

He knew full well how desperately the country needed foreign exchange. But there was so little in the way of domestic products that could compete—foreign buyers just weren’t interested.

At this point, China was still an underdeveloped industrial nation. In the eyes of other countries, its products were primitive and backward.

And it wasn’t just foreigners—most Chinese people thought the same.

Since the founding of the PRC, China had been trying to boost exports. That’s why the Canton Fair was launched.

A lot of people didn’t know that the Canton Fair was founded in 1957.

Zhao Zhenguo had never thought about earning foreign exchange. They were just a regular noodle factory, not some ambitious venture.

Imagine saying you were going to export noodles—people would laugh their heads off.

Like foreigners didn’t have noodles? Like they were hard to make?

To be blunt, foreign countries weren’t short on food. Their cost of producing noodles was probably even lower.

That said, Zhao Zhenguo also knew—if their factory could produce export-grade noodles, it would be a huge opportunity for both him and the factory. The government’s attention would go way up.

The factory would be upgraded, and he’d rise with the tide.

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t tempted.

“That kind of noodle you mentioned—is it really that popular overseas?” he couldn’t help asking.

Zhou Yimin shook his head slightly. “I just heard it from a friend, not totally sure. You could look into it—it shouldn’t be hard to find out.

When I heard it, I thought—noodles aren’t that technical, right? If foreigners can make them, why can’t we?

Later, I looked into some old texts and found that our country had similar instant noodles a hundred years ago. Back then, it was a chef in the household of a certain Magistrate Yi in Yangzhou who invented it by chance.”

He’d come up with a justification.

After all, even the hand pump had been something he read about in old books and modified.

The same could be said for instant noodles.

There really had been similar kinds of noodles in the past, and if someone went looking in ancient texts, they might just find something. So he wasn’t afraid of being called out. If he improved it further, it could easily beat the current Japanese version.

In 1960, instant noodles probably weren’t even patented yet, right?

If not, then why not get ahead and register it now?

Zhao Zhenguo felt a surge of excitement. Eight hundred thoughts raced through his head.

Right now, the most important thing was to verify if such noodles truly existed overseas and if they were really that popular.

If it was true—

Then it would absolutely be worth trying. If they could earn foreign exchange, the noodle factory’s status would soar, and his own rank would rise too.

At the same time, he felt genuine admiration.

His mother had mentioned that Zhou Yimin had invented the hand pump and been recognized for it. Just a few days ago, he’d also come up with the solar stove and was probably due another award.

He really lived up to his name!

And now he’d even thought up instant noodles. Even if he claimed it came from an old book, that just showed he had broad knowledge, a love of learning, and a knack for innovation.

“Yimin, sit tight. I’ll go find someone to help me look into this.”

With that, Zhao Zhenguo dashed out the door.

(End of Chapter)