Chapter 85: Even the Wild Boar Turned Around and Laughed

“If only we could eat at Lao Mo’s, that would be perfect.”

Luo Dapeng made a wish.

The “Lao Mo” he was referring to was the Moscow Restaurant. Since its opening in 1954, it had been one of those Western-style restaurants in Beijing that people would do anything to get into.

It was said that the interior decorations were entirely in the style of our “Big Brother,” and the kitchen equipment was top-of-the-line—almost fully electrified. There were seven large refrigerators, two big electric stoves, and all kinds of electric appliances for making coffee, baking pastries, and deep-frying food.

All the tableware used in “Lao Mo,” except for the porcelain made in Jingdezhen, was supplied by our “Big Brother.” Just the glassware—glasses and crystal cups—numbered over ten thousand pieces.

Zhou Yimin couldn’t help but recall a popular joke in later years about Lao Mo’s tableware.

It was said that the spoons at Lao Mo’s were all made of silver. Some people, after dining, would secretly take the spoons home, which caused quite a headache for the restaurant. In the end, they had no choice but to switch to stainless steel.

When the Moscow Restaurant first opened, it only served a select few—mostly Soviet experts, foreign guests, and the like.

At that time, ordinary people who wanted to get in and have a taste of Western food had to have an admission ticket.

The ticket was something Lao Mo himself came up with—it was just a receipt from the Moscow Restaurant.

Now, after several years, people were still just as enthusiastic about Lao Mo. The line outside the towering building wound around in multiple loops.

If a regular person could manage to eat at Lao Mo once, they could brag about it for a month or two.

Especially for someone like Luo Dapeng—a spirited young man—it was incredibly tempting. In the capital, such spirited young men were often called “wanzhu” (playboys or flashy guys). Getting to eat at Lao Mo wasn’t just about money; it was a symbol of status.

To the wanzhu, going to Lao Mo for Western food was an event full of prestige. To them, it wasn’t just a meal—it was practically a ceremonial pilgrimage.

“Lao Mo? Maybe next time,” Zhou Yimin said.

In truth, he wasn’t that interested in Lao Mo.

As a soul from the future, he had seen every kind of international restaurant there was.

What kind of “foreign food” hadn’t he tasted?

Restaurants like Lao Mo were a bit like how KFC and McDonald’s would be in the future—wildly popular when they first opened, seen as classy and impressive. People thought eating there made them something special.

They didn’t realize it was just fast food.

After that, Zhou Yimin took them to a more well-known restaurant.

The most famous among them was probably Fengzeyuan, which had hosted many foreign guests and had an excellent reputation.

Speaking of Beijing’s old restaurants, you had to mention the “Eight Buildings,” “Eight Halls,” “Eight Springs,” and “Eight Residences.” Of course, due to various reasons, many of these old establishments no longer existed.

Zhou Yimin ordered several dishes.

Even Zhou Dazhong, let alone Luo Dapeng and Li Youde, rarely got to eat a meal of this caliber!

They devoured the dishes completely—truly a “Clean Plate Campaign”—they nearly licked the sauce off the plates.

“This life is so satisfying!”

Luo Dapeng rubbed his belly, feeling like this was the first time he had truly honored his stomach. He was thoroughly content.

Now that he and Li Youde were working with Zhou Yimin’s “well-connected friend,” they were earning quite a bit. Eating at such a restaurant once a month wouldn’t be a problem.

…

When Director Li brought home bananas, the family was once again filled with gasps of amazement.

“Yimin is incredible! We don’t see fruits like this often in the north!”

“Not just rare—I’ve only seen them twice in my whole life.”

Director Li told his family, “The day after tomorrow, Yimin is coming over for dinner.”

“Then we’ve got to prepare a proper meal.”

Although Director Li’s daughter-in-law hadn’t met Zhou Yimin, she was already very grateful to him. After all, the milk her baby was drinking now was all thanks to Zhou Yimin!

“I’ll go stand in line to buy a roast duck.”

There was also an old hen at home. They had planned to butcher it soon to help the postpartum daughter-in-law recover.

“Let’s go get some more meat too!”

The whole family gathered to discuss the menu.

They took Zhou Yimin’s upcoming visit very seriously.

After eating, Zhou Dazhong dutifully returned to the steel factory. Unlike Zhou Yimin, who wouldn’t go unless he had a task or something to hand in, Zhou Dazhong didn’t skip work.

Zhou Yimin, meanwhile, went home to catch up on sleep—he hadn’t rested well the night before.

Half-asleep, he heard someone knocking on the door.

“Yimin, Yimin! Someone from Zhoujiazhuang is looking for you.”

Zhou Yimin opened his eyes and shook off his drowsiness. He recognized Li Youde’s voice and got up to open the door.

“Someone from Zhoujiazhuang?”

“Yeah, they’re outside the courtyard. They haven’t come in,” Li Youde said.

Zhou Yimin was puzzled. Why were people from Zhoujiazhuang coming to see him now? Who could it be? He stepped outside and saw that it was Zhou Dafu and four other young men from the village.

“Dafu, here to look for work again?” Zhou Yimin asked with a smile.

Zhou Dafu’s desire to move to the city wasn’t a secret in Zhoujiazhuang.

“Uncle Sixteen, we went hunting in the mountains and caught a few things. Take a look…” Zhou Dafu gestured to two burlap sacks behind him. One of them was stained with blood.

Goodness! If this were the future, someone might think it was a dismemberment case.

The other sack was moving. Something inside it was alive.

“Let me take a look. What do you have there?”

Zhou Yimin guessed these guys were probably inspired by Zhou Dazhong getting into the factory and were still unwilling to give up. They must have gone into the mountains to hunt, hoping to sell their catch for money to buy a job slot.

“It’s a wild boar and a few pheasants.”

Zhou Yimin took a look. The boar was already dead—not very big, probably under a hundred jin, still young. There were five pheasants, still lively and hopping around.

But what was up with this guy?

Zhou Yimin noticed that Zhou Dafu seemed to be limping.

“What happened to your foot? Did the wild boar charge you?” Zhou Yimin asked.

Zhou Dafu looked embarrassed and didn’t respond.

The others didn’t hold back their laughter: “He twisted it while running. The wild boar never even chased him.”

Zhou Dafu flared up, like someone had stepped on his tail. “It was coming for me at first!”

“Don’t flatter yourself. That boar never even looked at you properly the whole time.”

“Yeah! When it saw you fall, it turned its head and laughed!”

Zhou Yimin: “…”

With someone like you, how did you even dare go hunting?

Zhou Yimin grabbed one of the pheasants and said, “You guys wait here. Dafu, come with me.”

He had noticed earlier that Eldest Uncle was home.

Zhou Dafu didn’t know what was going on but obediently followed Zhou Yimin, hobbling along.

“Eldest Uncle, are you busy?”

“Yimin? What’s up?” Eldest Uncle was holding some medicinal herbs and looked over at Zhou Yimin, who had a pheasant in hand.

“This kid twisted his foot. I was hoping you could take a look at it.”

As he spoke, he handed the pheasant to Eldest Aunt nearby. “Auntie, take this pheasant as a consultation fee.”

“Oh my! Yimin, you’re too polite. Taking a look at his foot is no trouble for your uncle at all,” Auntie said happily.

Only then did Zhou Dafu realize that Uncle Sixteen had brought him to get treated.

(End of chapter)