Chapter 122 – Training Laicai

The remaining work was actually quite simple: connect the sewage pipes, install the squat toilet, and lay the floor tiles in the bathroom. That would pretty much wrap things up.

Yes! Floor tiles.

This was the first of its kind in Zhoujiazhuang, yet the villagers found it perfectly natural—no one thought there was anything unusual about it.

At noon, Zhou Yimin cooked rice using Wuchang premium grains.

Zhou Zhiming and the others working on the house still ate sorghum rice. As for the dishes, Zhou Yimin made braised pork—its amber hue was rich and glossy, tender yet not greasy, practically melting in the mouth.

To everyone, it tasted like something straight out of heaven.

As usual, Zhou Zhiming and the others each got two pieces of pork and a spoonful of potatoes as their side dish. They ate with oil dripping from their lips. Today, everyone ate very slowly.

Because they knew, starting tomorrow, they wouldn’t be eating meals like this anymore.

From tomorrow on, they’d have to go to the village canteen like everyone else and eat sweet potatoes. There was a faint sense of loss in the air.

Zhou Yimin encouraged Laicai to eat more. Even if the kid was just the one feeding the fire, that was still hard work, if not a contribution.

Luo Dapeng hadn’t left yet either, and he was eating there as well.

“Yimin, your cooking is really something—no worse than the chefs at those restaurants,” Luo Dapeng said.

Since tagging along with Zhou Yimin, he’d been to a few restaurants—maybe three or five times. He had a general idea of what restaurant food was like, so he could naturally judge the quality of Zhou Yimin’s braised pork.

Zhou Yimin smiled. This was all from watching those food videos in his past life.

After coming back in time, he gradually discovered that his memory had greatly improved. A lot of things he had seen in his previous life could replay in his mind like a movie.

It was thanks to that ability that he was able to recreate things like the hand-pump well and solar cooker.

“Seriously, Yimin’s skills are no joke—better than what you get at the restaurants,” Zhou Xuqiang also nodded.

Lately, he’d been coming over to scrounge meals so often that he actually felt like he’d put on a little weight. In an era where most people didn’t have enough to eat, his family might’ve been the only exception.

The old man chuckled and scolded, “Have you even been to a restaurant?”

Still, the two elders were secretly happy.

Any time someone praised their grandson, they loved hearing it.

At the same time, they silently cursed their son, Zhou Xuhua. Clearly, that guy had rarely cooked for their precious grandson in the past—no wonder the kid had to learn by himself and got so good at it.

Third Aunt had high hopes for Laicai. Whenever Yimin cooked, he liked bringing the kid along, sometimes even teaching him a few tricks—not just how to feed the fire.

She’d seen that with her own eyes, and knew Yimin was passing down his cooking skills to Laicai.

In this era, being a cook was actually a pretty good profession! Many people were envious.

People used to say: even in times of famine, a cook never starves.

But that’s only something you’d hear in the new era. These days, all kinds of blue-collar jobs were no longer looked down on; instead, there was a strong emphasis on the dignity of labor. That’s why jobs like being a cook could become enviable.

You have to understand—back in ancient times, the status of a cook was extremely low.

They were considered one of the “lowest of the nine trades.” Just think about that—how good could the job have been?

The ruling class liked to say “Food is the heaven of the people” and pursued refined tastes, yet at the same time acted all highbrow, spouting lines like “A gentleman stays away from the kitchen.”

In the writings of ancient officials, nobles, and scholars, you’d find countless descriptions of fine cuisine, but very few words about the chefs behind them.

In the old days, people only became cooks out of desperation, just to get by and survive. Most who worked as cooks came from humble backgrounds, with little to no education, and held no real social status. Their main role was to serve the indulgent lifestyles of the elite.

Cooks used to be called things like “fire hands,” “kitchen hands,” or “kitchen servants”—you can imagine just how low their status was.

And it wasn’t just cooks. Artisans and craftsmen were only slightly better off than slaves.

But nowadays, craftsmen were considered skilled labor and were highly sought after. Even if someone wanted to learn, they might not be able to find a teacher!

“Laicai, you should spend more time learning from your big brother.”

When Third Aunt said that, the old man and the others all turned to look.

They hadn’t seen Zhou Yimin teaching Laicai how to cook, so their reactions were a bit surprised.

Laicai nodded. “Big Brother taught me how to make braised pork today!”

“Yimin, you…” Third Uncle Zhou Xuqiang didn’t know what to say.

Zhou Yimin replied casually, “I noticed he’s interested in it, so I gave him a few pointers. We’ll see how it goes in a couple of years. If he still likes it, I’ll find him a proper teacher and let him train seriously. Learning to cook is hard work.”

Honestly, if he could train a proper chef, Zhou Yimin would be thrilled. In the future, he wouldn’t have to cook himself—just bring home ingredients and wait for a meal.

That last part completely flew over Zhou Xuqiang and his wife’s heads.

They only remembered the part about finding a teacher and learning culinary skills.

That was fantastic!

Having a chef in the family meant they wouldn’t need to worry about starving in times of disaster.

The couple was overjoyed. When they looked at Laicai, their eyes now gleamed with the hope of raising a promising son.

After lunch, Luo Dapeng returned to the city.

By the afternoon, Zhou Zhiming and his crew officially began building the incubation room. Since it wasn’t very big, they aimed to finish it in just one afternoon.

Zhou Yimin provided guidance from the sidelines—where to place vents, and so on.

“These racks—are they for hatching eggs in the future?” someone asked.

Quite a few people came by out of curiosity. The idea of not using hens to hatch chicks was still a bit unbelievable to the folks in Zhoujiazhuang.

Zhou Yimin nodded. “Yes! There’ll be piping installed around the inside walls. Later, steam will run through these pipes to provide heat, keeping the room at the same temperature as a brooding hen…”

He explained the setup to everyone again, regardless of whether they could fully grasp it or not.

Outside, there would be a stove with a pot on top. Water would be boiled in the pot, and steam would travel through the pipes. When the steam cooled at the other end, it would condense back into water and return to the pot.

It was a closed-loop system. You could call it high-tech or low-tech.

In simple terms, it was just boiling water.

But even nuclear power plants—those pinnacles of technology—boiled water too, didn’t they?

Zhou Yimin’s version just looked much more basic. After all, he was only trying to hatch eggs; it didn’t need to be fancy.

If he wanted to be more refined, he could probably set up a small thermal power station.

Now that would be interesting.

In fact, if you added a generator to the mix, it’d be thermal power generation. A power plant isn’t as complicated as people think—generating electricity isn’t that hard.

Honestly, if Zhoujiazhuang couldn’t get electricity in the future, he was seriously considering setting up a power generator in the village. Without electricity, there were too many things they couldn’t do.

By sunset, they had finally finished the incubation room.

Tomorrow, Zhou Yimin planned to bring the eggs back and start hatching chicks.

The villagers were all looking forward to it. They had more or less heard about Yimin’s plan to make all of Zhoujiazhuang prosperous—how could they not care?
(End of Chapter)