Chapter 325

Zhou Yimin started measuring from the location of the reservoir—not with a ruler, of course, since there was no ruler that long. If this were the future, he could’ve just used laser equipment to instantly measure the exact distance.

But now, he could only rely on the most primitive method—each step was roughly one meter, so he’d count the number of steps to estimate the total distance.

To be safe, he would make sure to allow for extra. Humans aren’t machines, and it’s impossible to guarantee that every step is exactly the same length. It could only be an approximate value.

If he didn’t buy enough, he’d have to do it all over again later, which would be a pain.

When the village chief saw Zhou Yimin measuring, he made sure the villagers didn’t disturb him.

Zhou Yimin didn’t overthink it. As long as he got a rough figure and prepared a little more than needed, it would be fine.

Fortunately, no one interrupted him. If they had, he would’ve probably gotten annoyed and forgotten the count, forcing him to start over.

After more than half an hour of measuring, he finally got a rough estimate. He’d walked about 2,000 meters, so to be safe, he’d buy an extra 200 meters.

That much cable would definitely be enough—and there might even be some left over.

This total already included the cables needed to bring electricity into each household.

To avoid suspicion, Zhou Yimin pretended to be doing something else. He got on the tricycle from the factory and rode out of the village, wandering around nearby for a while. Once the timing seemed right, he’d bring the cable back to the village.

He wandered outside for more than an hour, then took out the electric cable he’d bought from the store and loaded it onto the tricycle. He also brought out a cardboard box.

Inside the box were light bulbs—100 in total—but each was only 15 watts. Altogether, the cable and bulbs had cost him about 200 yuan.

These bulbs were of an improved type.

Previously, Zhang Yan and the others had taken Zhou Yimin’s valuable advice and created a similar bulb. The state was now producing them in large quantities.

So, it wasn’t strange at all for Zhou Yimin to have them now.

Everyone knows that incandescent lamps rely on the tungsten filament to heat up and emit light through radiation, producing a bright glow.

The working temperature of the filament often reaches up to 3000℃, and only tungsten can withstand such high heat. But even tungsten gradually evaporates, depositing onto the inside of the bulb’s glass. That’s why older bulbs often look blackened after extended use.

To allow the tungsten atoms to disperse more evenly across a larger surface and to improve heat dissipation, incandescent bulbs are shaped like a pear—bulbous and rounded. To prevent the tungsten from oxidizing and burning out at high temperatures, the interior of the bulb is kept in a vacuum.

The filament may look like it’s only two or three centimeters long, but in reality, it’s a coiled tungsten wire over a meter long—just extremely thin, even finer than a strand of hair, so it’s hard to see with the naked eye.

The base of the incandescent bulb is threaded and can be screwed into a socket.

In the early days, the socket material was quite unique—made of a phenolic resin called “bakelite.” It was the first plastic ever put into industrial production. It was hard and brittle, water-resistant, non-conductive, heat-resistant, and very strong.

It also had a peculiar trait: frequently switching the light on and off would shorten the bulb’s lifespan. So in the past, people treasured their bulbs and minimized usage, typically only turning them on in the morning and evening.

Zhou Yimin pedaled the tricycle back in the direction of Zhoujiazhuang.

At this point, the job of installing utility poles wasn’t even one-tenth complete. Judging by the pace, it would take at least a day or two to finish.

If they had excavators or other machinery, they could’ve erected fifty poles in less than a day.

But right now, it was all manual labor, so progress was slow.

When the village chief saw Zhou Yimin returning on the tricycle, he knew the cables had been brought back and quickly came up to meet him.

“These are the electric cables, Yimin?” the old village chief asked.

He was a little anxious—partly worried that it had been too much trouble for Zhou Yimin, and partly that it might be too expensive, which would hurt them financially.

“That’s right, these are the cables. Get someone to help unload them,” Zhou Yimin nodded.

China’s cable industry can trace its history back to the early 20th century. It went from nothing to something, from small to large-scale.

In 1897, China’s first underground power cable was used in the city of Shanghai. It was a 2,700-meter-long rubber-insulated, lead-sheathed lighting cable, imported from abroad.

In 1939, the Central Electrical Equipment Plant was built and put into production in Kunming, producing China’s first domestically made cable—marking the beginning of independent wire and cable manufacturing.

Before 1949, China’s wire and cable industry was quite small, with only about 2,000 workers and roughly 500 pieces of equipment. The highest annual copper consumption was only 6,500 tons.

This goes to show that cables were still very precious at the time. Power was usually prioritized for confidential government units, then for factories, and only after that for residents.

In Beijing back then, if someone wanted electricity in their home, they had to pay separately—and it wasn’t cheap. Some people weren’t willing to pay and still used kerosene lamps.

“How much did all this cable cost, Yimin?” the old chief asked, finally voicing the question he was most concerned about.

Although the village had made quite a bit of money, only those who had known real poverty understood that even if they had a little saved up, they were still reluctant to spend it. They preferred to hoard it.

“It wasn’t much. Two thousand two hundred meters of cable and one hundred bulbs, altogether just 210 yuan,” Zhou Yimin replied casually.

It was originally 200 yuan, but he added an extra 10 as a symbolic gesture.

If he were to sell these things, the price would definitely be much higher—two to three times more wouldn’t be out of the question. The issue was that cable production was still far too limited.

In fact, Zhou Yimin wasn’t even sure if cable counted as a controlled material during this time—whether it was even sold openly.

“Two hundred and ten? That’s not bad, not bad at all,” the old chief breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been worried it would cost a fortune and had stressed over it for nothing.

The brigade leader standing nearby guessed, “Old chief, I doubt it was that cheap. Yimin probably got it through some special channels, right?”

Zhou Yimin waved his hand. “Nothing like that.”

But even though he denied it, the brigade leader and the chief both suspected it had to be from a special source—maybe he even pulled some favors. Just like that hydroelectric generator before—if the whole village had emptied their pockets, they still might not have been able to afford it.

“I’ll go back and get the money for you,” the old chief said.

He didn’t have that much on him and had to go home for it. Who in the countryside carried that much cash on them?

Right now, any available funds in the village should first go to Zhou Yimin.

After all, he had already fronted a lot of money for the village. They needed to show they had some decency, and not wait until he came asking.

Things were looking up for the village now—they’d made a lot of money from selling vegetables. Later on, there’d even be dividends for the village, and every household would likely get a fair share.

(End of Chapter)