Chapter 154: How Much Sugar Did He Use?

In fact, even now, there are still many places learning the ancient way of storing ice.

After all, in places without electricity, there are only two ways to get ice.

The most common method is to store ice in the winter and use it in the summer.

Typically, this involves building an ice storage cave.

Every year, during the coldest part of winter, ice blocks are collected. The reason for choosing the coldest time is because the ice is hardest and least likely to melt.

After collecting the ice, it is transported to a pre-prepared cave. These caves are usually built in shaded locations and dug deep underground, which helps slow down the melting of the ice.

Of course, the ice isn’t just thrown into the cave. First, a thick layer of fresh straw or reed mats is laid on the bottom, then the ice blocks are placed on top.

Moreover, between each layer of ice, things like rice husks or leaves are added to serve as insulation. The layers are stacked this way until the cave is full, then the entrance is sealed. The ice will be used the following summer.

This method can’t prevent the ice from melting entirely, it just slows the process. So to ensure there’s enough ice for the next year, people generally store more than they need.

It’s said that this ice-storing technique dates back to the Zhou Dynasty.

Back then, it was basically reserved for royalty. There were even officials called “ice men” who were specifically responsible for collecting, transporting, and storing ice for the royal family. Large numbers of “ice wells” were built near the palace.

Before transmigrating, Zhou Yimin had even seen ancient “refrigerators” in a museum.

By the Tang Dynasty, storing ice in winter was no longer exclusive to the royals. Ordinary people who had the means would dig cellars to store ice themselves. Besides using it personally, they also sold the extra ice.

By the Qing Dynasty, ice storage was widespread across the country. Around Daming Lake in Jinan, Shandong, storing ice had already become a full-fledged industry.

As the capital during the Ming and Qing dynasties and the new China, the capital city naturally had plenty of ice caves and cellars.

Getting hold of some ice wasn’t all that difficult.

Another method of making ice was with saltpeter.

This technique is probably familiar to most—it’s almost a mandatory skill for ancient time-travelers.

You take two basins, one larger than the other. Fill the large basin with water, then place the smaller one inside.

Next, pour saltpeter into the large basin and shake it constantly. As the saltpeter absorbs the heat from the water, the water in the smaller basin will freeze.

Saltpeter can even be reused. After making the ice, the saltpeter-containing water can be distilled or naturally evaporated to recover the saltpeter for future use.

Zhou Yimin thought it might be worth trying this method too. Maybe he’d keep some saltpeter at home.

Really, the best solution would be to have electricity. But in the short term, getting Zhoujiazhuang connected to the grid was going to be difficult.

“Grandma, how is it?”

The old lady nodded. “Mm! Tasty.”

She thought to herself: Just how much sugar did the boy put in this?

Zhou Yimin had half a bowl too. It wasn’t bad—just lacking some crushed ice. As it was, it was similar to the mung bean sweet soup popular in Guangdong.

In Guangdong and Guangxi, mung bean soup might even include seaweed. Some versions include fruit, or even traditional herbs. People from other provinces might not be able to stomach that.

Zhou Yimin kept enough for his family, and the rest he packed into buckets, calling someone over to carry it off for the road workers to have a refreshing treat.

He also had some sent over to the mushroom house workers.

With mung bean soup to enjoy, Zhang Lu and Lai Fang didn’t go out playing. They sat obediently at home, eating. There was a radio at home too! Days like this made Zhang Lu not want to return to the city at all.

“Brother Yimin, can I come here every weekend from now on?” she asked.

Zhou Yimin smiled. “As long as your parents agree, I’ve got no objections.”

Zhang Lu immediately deflated, because she knew her parents definitely wouldn’t allow it.

Seeing her disappointed, Zhou Yimin added, “If you want to eat something, you can go to my siheyuan too.”

That was much closer, wasn’t it?

Zhang Lu brightened up at once.

“But what if you’re not there?” she asked again.

“If I’m not home, you can go find Brother Dapeng or Brother Youde. Just tell them what you want to eat.” They all met yesterday, didn’t they?

…

“Mung bean soup made by Yimin—everyone have some.”

The road workers paused their labor, passing a few bowls around without even washing them. To the villagers, a little shared saliva wasn’t a big deal.

A few gulps of mung bean soup went down, cooling them off and taking the edge off their hunger.

“Uncle Sixteen, how much sugar did you use? It’s really sweet!”

The old village chief said, “Save a bowl for Master Chen, the one driving the tractor.”

When Master Chen drove in another load of coal slag and unloaded it, the villagers handed him a bowl of mung bean soup.

Master Chen couldn’t help swallowing hard.

As a driver, he earned a decent wage. In this era, being a driver was one of the most enviable jobs.

Since there were so few vehicles, drivers were considered precious talents—almost like national treasures or pandas.

To be a driver, you usually had to come from the military or have undergone specialized driving training—most were retired military vehicle operators.

It’s no exaggeration to say that in this era, becoming a driver was harder than becoming a civil servant in later generations.

Even as just a tractor driver, Master Chen was something special.

After all, communes typically didn’t have any other vehicles—maybe a few tractors at most. In a commune with tens of thousands of people, there might be only a handful of tractor drivers. The odds of becoming one were around one in ten thousand.

But even so, his family still struggled to get enough to eat.

“Thank you.” He expressed his thanks and raised the bowl to drink.

Hmm?

So sweet? How much sugar was in this?

Master Chen was genuinely surprised.

Mung beans were normal, sugar was expected—but this much sugar? In this day and age, sugar was a scarce resource.

One bowl of mung bean soup later, Master Chen felt much better all over.

To show his appreciation, he sped up the tractor.

By the end of the afternoon, they had paved about two hundred meters. The road looked neat and flat. Whether it was easy to walk on or not, it was certainly pleasing to the eye!

At this pace, Zhoujiazhuang’s roadwork would be finished in three or four days.

“Master Chen, stay for dinner before heading back?”

Master Chen waved his hand. “No need, you all eat. I’ll come early tomorrow.”

He topped off the tractor’s fuel tank, then drove off with flair. The way he handled the tractor left the village’s young men full of envy.

What man doesn’t like vehicles? Even if it’s just a tractor—or a bicycle.

And honestly, whether it’s a tractor or a bike, those were both far out of reach for most folks.

(End of Chapter)