Chapter 106: You’re Comparing Me to Him?

There was no way to bring the electric fan back to Zhoujiazhuang—no electricity meant suffering.

Actually, getting a small generator wasn’t that hard. With Zhou Yimin’s current abilities, he could easily get his hands on one. Diesel generators, for example, were already available.

Some very remote areas still didn’t have electricity. So, when production teams there organized film screenings, what did they do?

Typically, the projectionist would bring a small diesel generator. So a projectionist actually carried quite a bit of equipment, and transporting all those machines and devices to the screening site wasn’t easy.

That’s why film projection wasn’t just a technical job—it was physical labor, too.

Every seemingly glamorous job had its tough, behind-the-scenes side.

In a few years, when the 16mm micro-film projectors are developed, it’ll be a true blessing for rural movie lovers.

It was said that the 16mm micro-film projector was a new type of projector tailored specifically for rural areas.

At present, the mainstream was still the 35mm film projector: clear images, great sound—but big and heavy, requiring a steady power supply.

There was no denying it: the most practical thing was still getting electricity.

Life without electricity really was inconvenient.

To get Zhoujiazhuang connected to the grid, the village would first need to become prosperous. Otherwise, if the villagers couldn’t afford to use electricity, what was the point of the authorities extending power lines out there?

In the short term, if Zhou Yimin wanted electricity, his only option was to get a small generator himself.

Generators weren’t as high-tech as people imagined. Zhou Yimin could even gather some materials and cobble together a rudimentary one by hand.

At the end of the day, all it did was rotate coils inside a magnetic field to generate current.

From what Zhou Yimin knew, hand-cranked generators were still in use—similar in principle to regular ones, just powered manually. The average human could sustain 0.1 to 0.2 horsepower, roughly 73 to 150 watts, and not for long stretches.

So hand-cranked generators typically didn’t exceed 100 watts.

What did 100 watts mean? Many people might not have a clear sense of that. Let’s put it this way: a bedroom light bulb usually uses about 10 to 15 watts.

So, at most, a hand-cranked generator could power ten such bulbs.

In the evening, the steel factory workers began their shift, and news of Zhou Yimin being commended by the factory spread, bringing fresh liveliness to the courtyard.

It turned out that Zhou Yimin’s reward wasn’t just limited to prizes. He also received a cash bonus and a promotion in job grade.

The speed of his promotion was outrageous—like eating or drinking. If memory served, since he became a full-time worker, he had already been promoted three levels in less than a month.

And everyone knew exactly why. There wasn’t much controversy about such rewards. Anyone who made that kind of contribution would have received the same.

You could say Zhou Yimin deserved every bit of it.

“No, Mom, why are you hitting me?” The first victim in the courtyard appeared—being chased and smacked by his own mother.

Aunt Chen glared at him. “You pay the same tuition. Look at you, then look at Yimin.”

It was acceptable to be a bit worse than someone else—not everyone came with the same specs. But you’re this bad?

It was like comparing two phones bought at the same price: one could make calls, browse the internet, take photos, and so on—while the other could only send texts. Who wouldn’t be mad?

This wasn’t just a budget version—it felt like they came from different eras entirely.

Soon after, Luo Dapeng returned from Zhoujiazhuang. He had gone prepared this time, spending a few yuan to bring snacks for the “little brothers.”

If conditions had allowed, he might have already been crowned king.

Right now, Luo Dapeng was very popular in Zhoujiazhuang. Everyone treated him warmly, partly because of his friendship with Zhou Yimin, and partly because he got along well with the village kids.

However, as soon as he got back, he was inexplicably whacked twice.

He was stunned.

What the hell? He hadn’t even done anything.

Just moments ago, he’d been basking in the joy of being “the boss.” Then bam—instant reality check. Like a bucket of cold water dumped on his head.

Upon investigating, he found out he wasn’t the only one who got hit.

Well, in that case, no problem.

If everyone’s unlucky, then it’s like no one is unlucky.

Still, he fled to Zhou Yimin’s house.

“My mom’s lost her mind—comparing me to you,” Luo Dapeng complained.

How dare she? Didn’t she know what kind of “product” she’d given birth to? Sure, the tuition was the same, but from the day I was born, I was already under-spec’d!

This was a hardware issue. Shouldn’t that be the manufacturer’s responsibility? How could you blame the product? That’s just unreasonable.

“You’re eating and still have the energy to talk trash?” Zhou Yimin rolled his eyes.

The two of them were eating watermelon.

And not just any watermelon—ice-cold, sliced, and served in a basin with crushed ice. Where the ice came from, no one knew. Luo Dapeng didn’t ask either—there was food to eat, and he was never shy about it around Zhou Yimin.

“Man, ice in this heat—what a blessing.” Luo Dapeng even picked up two pieces of ice from the basin and crunched away with a satisfying ka-ka-ka.

One word: bliss.

“You like it? There are two big chunks in the kitchen. I didn’t smash them yet. Take one later if you want,” Zhou Yimin said.

In this kind of weather, without an air conditioner, it was brutal.

Now that they had a fan and some ice in the room, it was just a hair short of having AC. Now that’s what you call living—it was a real treat.

“Really? Then I’m taking it for sure.” Luo Dapeng was thrilled.

He peeked into the kitchen and saw a massive half-meter-long block of ice—and instantly grinned from ear to ear.

Zhou Yimin was speechless. This guy was overjoyed over a chunk of ice like some kind of simpleton. No wonder your mom beats you.

This “main account” was basically ruined. Time to start a “smurf” and raise the next generation.

“Whatever, help yourself,” Zhou Yimin waved dismissively.

It was just a block of ice—only two cents each from the system store. If it weren’t so hard to explain where it came from in Zhoujiazhuang, he would’ve already pulled them out to cool off his grandparents.

Luo Dapeng ditched the watermelon, grabbed one of the big ice blocks, and headed out. Before long, the courtyard kids were all gathered again.

Zhou Yimin had never expected this.

He gave the ice to Luo Dapeng so he could cool off indoors—not so he could break it up and hand it out like treats to his loyal “minions.”

Then again, it wasn’t entirely his fault. Getting even a single piece of ice this season was incredibly rare.

Even though it wasn’t a sweet popsicle, just a plain chunk of ice, to the kids, it was still a magical summer treat. Sucking on a piece was pure joy.

When Zhou Yimin found out, he was thoroughly speechless.

If those kids ended up with diarrhea, Luo Dapeng was going to pay. Let’s see how he talks his way out of that.

Around that time, Zhou Dazhong returned to Zhoujiazhuang once again—his tricycle loaded with donated items from the steel factory: a solar stove, thermos, pencils, notebooks, and more.

(End of Chapter)