Chapter 146: The Self-Cooking Pot

There were many things in Zhoujiazhuang that Zhang Jianshe found novel. He went around to take a look.

For example, the practice of “borrowing land” from dried-up rivers and mountains surprised him quite a bit.

In fact, the current food shortage in our country is due in part to drought, in part to human factors, and also because a lot of land in the country hasn’t been reasonably utilized.

The government had already taken notice of the latter issue, which is why, starting a few years ago, they mobilized over a million people to develop Beidahuang.

The area known as “Beidahuang” is primarily located within Heilongjiang Province. It includes the Sanjiang Plain, Songnen Plain, both slopes of the Wanda Mountains, and large swaths of wasteland north and south of the Lesser Khingan Mountains.

It was precisely this development project that gave China a major granary—Beidacang. The country’s ability to be self-sufficient in food owes a lot to Beidacang.

Today’s Beidahuang is mostly made up of meadows, swamps, and some forests. It receives abundant precipitation, with annual rainfall exceeding 500 mm. Summer days are long and warm—conditions highly favorable to crop growth. It’s one of the world’s three major black soil belts.

Of course, when it gets cold, it’s really cold. The average winter temperature is around minus 30 degrees Celsius, earning it the nickname “Frozen World.”

In fact, that land had already drawn attention right after the founding of the People’s Republic. In the early stages, it was primarily soldiers quietly doing the hard work of developing the land. The hardships they faced are beyond imagination—like not even having houses.

Some might scoff: “What’s so hard about not having a house? Just build one, right? How hard can that be?”

But building a house takes time, doesn’t it? In the meantime, they had to eat and sleep outdoors. Not to mention factors like the freezing temperature—just the wild animals alone meant you had to stand guard with one eye open at night, or you might get dragged off.

There were way more wild animals than people.

Back then, each pioneer had to work more than twelve hours a day, with only one day off every ten days. No matter how exhausted they were, no one ever complained.

“You want polyethylene film?” Zhang Jianshe caught on—Zhou Yimin seemed quite eager for that stuff.

“Of course! With that, we can grow crops even in winter.”

Zhang Jianshe wasn’t an agriculture expert, but he had some basic knowledge. Covering crops with polyethylene film could raise the temperature, but it likely still wouldn’t reach the heat levels necessary for plant growth.

Besides temperature, plants also need water, sunlight, and carbon dioxide to grow.

He figured Yimin must have some other tricks up his sleeve, so he didn’t question it outright.

“I’ve got a friend who works at a polyethylene factory. I’ll help you get in touch and try to get you a batch.”

Zhou Yimin was overjoyed when he heard that and thanked him repeatedly.

It was like someone delivering a pillow just as you were feeling sleepy.

“Thank you, Uncle Zhang!”

He could buy polyethylene film from the system’s in-brain store for a cheap price, but he needed a cover story—just in case someone investigated. There had to be a traceable source for the material.

If it were just food, he could take it out without concern—it’d be eaten and gone without a trace. But this stuff could easily give him away. Having a proper source was much safer.

Zhang Jianshe laughed and scolded, “Thank me for what? You brat, asking for a beating?”

Around 4 p.m., Lu Guofu arrived.

Coincidentally, it was also the time when the school kids were being dismissed.

The old Party Secretary had sent people to help Mr. Lu set up the site—like propping up the projection screen. In the front, several rows of chairs had already been laid out, and the classroom chairs were being put to good use.

“Uncle Lu, the generator’s right here.” Zhou Yimin carried the generator over.

“Good, leave it there.”

The generator didn’t need to be placed too close, as it would be a bit noisy when running and could affect the movie experience. It could be positioned farther away, and a cable could bring the electricity over.

Once Lu Guofu had the equipment set up, Zhou Yimin invited him to his house for a short rest. Dinner would be ready soon anyway.

As for the equipment, the old Party Secretary assigned someone to guard it, preventing mischievous kids from getting too close. If the equipment got damaged, the village wouldn’t be able to pay for it.

“Uncle Lu, could you come once a month to show a movie?” Zhou Yimin asked as they walked.

Lu Guofu didn’t hesitate at all and agreed, “Sure! Can’t promise exactly which day, though.”

He trusted Zhou Yimin wouldn’t make him work for nothing.

“I’ll leave the timing up to you, Uncle Lu,” Zhou Yimin said with a smile.

Hearing this, the old Party Secretary and the other villagers following behind were all pleasantly surprised.

Did that mean their village could watch a movie every month? Who could’ve imagined that? Even the Hongxing Commune couldn’t guarantee a movie every month.

Yet Zhoujiazhuang was about to make it happen.

When they arrived at Zhou Yimin’s home, Lu Guofu first greeted the old lady with some birthday wishes. After all, the main reason for today’s movie screening was to celebrate her birthday.

After offering his blessings, he joined the others for some tea.

His eyes couldn’t help but fall on the award certificate on the wall and the newspaper clipping beside it. He was inwardly amazed, and the conversation naturally turned to Zhou Yimin’s invention.

Speaking of inventions, Lu Guofu sighed and said to Zhou Yimin, “Yimin, you don’t know—after you left yesterday, my two brats got obsessed with inventing things. They’re almost possessed.”

Zhang Jianshe chuckled, “It’s great that kids are into inventing! That should be encouraged.”

As a researcher, he naturally hoped kids would develop a love for invention and experimentation.

“Inventing is good, sure, but they shouldn’t go off the deep end,” Lu Guofu said with a bitter smile.

Zhou Yimin asked curiously, “What do they want to invent?”

From the sound of it, those two kids had some pretty wild ideas.

“They saw their mom cooking rice and decided they wanted to invent a pot that could cook rice by itself. Now tell me, if that’s not wild imagination, what is?”

Good grief! A pot that cooks rice on its own—might as well say the pot’s become a spirit!

At this, both Zhang Jianshe and Zhou Yimin froze for a moment.

But Zhou Yimin immediately thought of the rice cooker. Isn’t that basically a self-cooking pot? As a transmigrator, he’d seen all kinds of rice cookers in the modern world, each with fancier features than the last.

As far as he knew, the rice cooker’s structure was actually quite simple—not as difficult as people imagined. It wasn’t some kind of futuristic tech.

And besides, it had already been invented. The world’s first rice cooker was invented in 1950 by the Tokyo Telecommunications Engineering Company, founded by Ibuka Masaru.

The original design was extremely basic: operated with a single button, and the inner pot was made of aluminum. Later on, the appearance of mechanical rice cookers changed significantly, with floral prints and cartoon designs added to the previously plain white bodies.

By 1955, Toshiba took the lead in developing an electric automatic rice cooker—the first mass-produced model in the true sense.

In 1960, which is this very year, Panasonic produced the first automatic rice cooker with a keep-warm function. That same year, rice cookers with timers also began hitting the market, marking the rice cooker’s entry into the electronic control era.

Zhang Jianshe laughed and said, “That’s called a rice cooker. It’s already been invented abroad.”

Lu Guofu was shocked: “Huh? It actually exists?”

(End of Chapter)