Courtyard House: A Major Power's Heavy Industry, Hand-Crafted Nuclear Fusion

Hongxing Steel Rolling Mill, First Canteen.

The midday sun shone through the greasy glass windows, casting dappled patterns on the cement floor of the cafeteria.

The air was filled with that unchanging smell of cabbage and vermicelli stew, mixed with the aroma of aged vinegar and cheap soy sauce.

This is the busiest place in the steel rolling mill, and also the place most full of "human touch".

But lately, the atmosphere here has been a bit strange.

Since that guy named Su Zheng invented the vegetable cutting and serving machine not long ago, the front hall of the cafeteria has undergone earth-shattering changes.

The old food service windows, where the staff used to serve food with shaky hands and judged customers by their appearance, have now been replaced by a row of silver-white metal lumps.

That was a row of "gravity-sensor-based quantitative meal dispensing machines".

The structure is very simple: a huge stainless steel hopper connected to a spiral conveyor at the bottom, and a tray with a spring scale at the outlet. Workers just need to put their lunch boxes on the tray, swipe their meal ticket cards (which are also newly introduced), and the machine will "clunk" and accurately spit out four ounces of rice and a spoonful of vegetables.

No more, no less, fair and honest to all, young and old.

Without the "shaking of the spoon" and the "looking at people's faces," the workers ate faster and there were no more complaints.

However, beneath this seemingly harmonious wave of automation, a sense of resentment is brewing in the kitchen.

The source of this resentment was Comrade He Yuzhu—also known as Shazhu—who had just returned to his unit after a 15-day detention.

"Pooh!"

Sha Zhu stood in front of a large iron pot with a diameter of 1.2 meters and spat hard on the ground.

His signature white chef's uniform was already yellowed, and the collar was covered in grease stains.

He swung the heavy iron ladle, weighing dozens of kilograms, around with a whooshing sound, as if venting some kind of anger.

"What a piece of junk machine! What kind of portion control is this?!"

While stirring the half-cooked cabbage in the pan, Sha Zhu complained to Liu Lan, the kitchen helper beside him, "Is that what you call eating? That's feed! That's pig feed!"

"There's absolutely no human touch! Every spoonful is carefully prepared! Who gets more, who gets less—that's the chef's skill! Now, it's all just cold, hard lumps of metal. I think this cafeteria is doomed!"

Liu Lan rolled her eyes as she chopped the pickled vegetables: "Alright, Sha Zhu, just shut up. Everyone's been praising that machine ever since it was installed. Besides, you've just started out, so it's better to keep a low profile."

"Keep a low profile? Why should I keep a low profile?"

Sha Zhu slammed the large ladle against the edge of the pot, making a loud "clang" that shook the entire kitchen.

"That grandson of a Su Zheng has taken over the work in the front of the house. But can he take over the work in the back of the kitchen? Can he take over my skills?"

Sha Zhu pointed to his nose, his face full of arrogance, "Cooking is all about the heat! It's about the wok hei (the smoky aroma imparted by a hot wok)! It's about the skill of your hands! Can a machine understand what 'stir-frying' is? Can it understand what 'thickening' is? As long as I, He Yuzhu, am still here, the stomachs of this steel mill will still have to listen to me!"

Sha Zhu was filled with hatred.

Those fifteen days of detention were a nightmare for him.

The communal sleeping quarters in the cell, the stale cornbread, and the musty smell that he could never wash off made him grit his teeth every time he thought about it.

The culprit behind all of this is Su Zheng.

Now that Su Zheng has run away, he has to settle this score with the mess Su Zheng left behind.

"Automation? Trying to sideline me? And now you've locked me up in jail?"

Sha Zhu stared at the bubbling cabbage in the pot, a sinister smile creeping onto his lips. "Fine, then I'll let you taste it. Without a chef's help, this machine is worse than pig swill!"

As he spoke, Sha Zhu picked up the salt jar next to him.

He was supposed to add two spoonfuls of salt, but with a flick of his wrist, he poured in half a jar instead.

Then came the vinegar.

It's soy sauce again.

Finally, not content with that, he grabbed a handful of Sichuan peppercorns, didn't sauté them, and simply sprinkled them in.

"Let's see how you eat this!"

It's exactly twelve o'clock.

The workday bell rang.

The workers flooded into the canteen like a tide.

Although the food serving windows are now automated, eliminating the frustration of "shaking ladles," people still habitually crowd towards the window managed by Sha Zhu—after all, he's the head chef, and while his character wasn't great in the past, his skills were undeniable.

Zhao Ming was also caught in the crowd.

He came a little earlier today on purpose.

As Su Zheng's eldest disciple, he now shoulders the important responsibility of "acting on behalf of his master".

The master said in the letter that he wanted to give Sha Zhu a "surprise", and he had to put together the scene.

"Zhao, what are we having for dinner today?" a fellow worker asked with a smile.

"Braised cabbage with glass noodles, I heard Chef He is in charge today," Zhao Ming replied casually.

"Hey, Sha Zhu's back? That's great. That kid may have a foul mouth, but his cooking is really delicious."

The workers walked up to the automatic meal dispensing machine with great anticipation.

The machine is operating normally.

With a "clatter," a steaming bowl of cabbage and glass noodles fell into the lunchbox.

Zhao Ming picked up his lunchbox and found a seat.

He looked at the color of the dish and frowned slightly.

The color of this dish seems a bit too dark.

Did you add too much soy sauce?

He picked up his chopsticks, took a bite, and put it in his mouth.

next second.

Zhao Ming's expression changed.

salty.

It's extremely salty.

It was like swallowing a mouthful of salt.

Moreover, the sour smell of aged vinegar hits you right in the head, mixed with the bitterness of unfried Sichuan peppercorns, the taste... is simply indescribable.

"Pooh!!"

The coworker next to him immediately vomited.

"What is this thing?! Did it kill the salt seller?"

"My God! Is this food even fit for human consumption? It smells like dishwater!"

"Why are these Sichuan peppercorns raw? My mouth went numb after just one bite!"

The cafeteria instantly erupted in chaos.

Hundreds of workers, each carrying a lunchbox, their faces masked with pain.

Some people even went directly to the sink to rinse their mouths.

"The machine must be broken!" someone shouted.

"No! The machine only dispenses the food, it doesn't cook it! This food is prepared in the kitchen!"

"Who did this? Bring the cook out!"

The outcry grew louder and louder.

The curtain to the kitchen was lifted, and Sha Zhu, with a toothpick in his mouth, sauntered out.

Seeing this scene, he was overjoyed.

now it's right!

This is what we call "the voice of the people"!

This is exactly the effect he wanted.

Let the workers know that no matter how good the machines are, they're useless if no one cooks.

Without He Yuzhu, you'd have to eat this kind of pig swill!

"What's all the noise about? What's all the noise about?"

Sha Zhu frowned, feigning concern. "If you don't like it, then don't eat it! You're all spoiled rotten! This is how this big pot of food tastes. You don't like it? Go home and make it yourself!"

"He Yuzhu! You did this on purpose, didn't you?"

An older worker pointed at the lunchbox and cursed, "This food is so salty it could poison someone! It's never been this bad before!"

"The past is the past, the present is the present."

Sha Zhu shrugged, looking utterly shameless. "These days, everyone's doing all this automation, right? Machines serve food, so I have to cooperate with them. To make sure every spoonful is flavorful, I have to add more salt. That's 'science,' understand?"

"You're talking nonsense!"

Zhao Ming stood up.

He carried the box of overly salty cabbage and walked step by step to Sha Zhu.

"He Yuzhu, you are wasting food and destroying production."

Zhao Ming's eyes were cold, and he even resembled Su Zheng somewhat. "This dish is not fit for human consumption."

Sha Zhu was delighted when he saw that the person was Zhao Ming.

"Hey, isn't this Technician Zhao? What's this? Master's not here, so the apprentice wants to teach me a lesson?"

Sha Zhu leaned closer to Zhao Ming, lowered his voice, and said in a tone only the two of them could hear, "Kid, don't think you can turn the world upside down just because you have a few broken machines. This kitchen is your grandpa Sha Zhu's territory. I can make it salty or bland as I want. What are you going to do about it? If you're so capable, why don't you cook it yourself?"

Sha Zhu looked defiant.

He was betting that Zhao Ming couldn't cook.

What does a tech guy know about cooking?

As long as he controls the core hegemony of "taste," Sha Zhu will always be fearless.

Zhao Ming looked at Sha Zhu's smug face, but he wasn't angry.

Instead, he laughed.

His smile held a hint of pity.

"Master He, do you think cooking is a very profound skill?"

"Nonsense!" Sha Zhu retorted, "The Tan family cuisine lineage has been passed down! Twenty years of training since childhood! You think it's like tightening screws?"

"it is good."

Zhao Ming nodded and placed the lunchbox on the table. "Since Chef He feels he is irreplaceable, let's make a bet."

"What are we betting on?"

"I'll bet on this meal."

Zhao Ming pointed to the kitchen, "I'll have someone cook a new pot of food right now. If they can make something that tastes better than anything you've ever made in half an hour, and I don't even have to lift a finger..."

"You're going to eat this bowl of salted cabbage in front of all the workers in the factory."

Sha Zhu paused for a moment, then burst into laughter: "You don't need to lift a finger? Do you expect a ghost to cook for you? Fine! It's a bet! If you lose, you'll have to call me Grandpa every time you see me, He Yuzhu!"

Sha Zhu was incredibly pleased with himself.

No one needs to do it?

Even if you hire another chef, they couldn't make a big pot of food in half an hour!

Is this kid out of his mind from anger?

However, just as he was feeling smug, the cafeteria door was suddenly pushed open.

"Make way! Make way!"

Factory Director Yang led the team personally, followed by seven or eight burly men from the security department.

They pushed in a huge machine covered with a red cloth, chanting slogans.

This machine is much larger than the previous food dispensing machine, and it even has several thick pipes attached to it.

"This is..." Sha Zhu's smile froze on his face.

"This is a treasure designed by my master, Su Zheng!"

Zhao Ming walked up to the machine and ripped off the red cloth.

"Whoosh—"

A colossal steel behemoth, brimming with cyberpunk aesthetics, was displayed before the crowd.

It has a huge silver roller, a complex hydraulic transmission arm, a dense array of temperature controller dials, and a transparent feed hopper through which you can see the rapidly rotating internal blade assembly.

[Multifunctional Hydraulic Transmission Automated Food Processing and Cooking Terminal (Code Name: Kitchen God-1)]

This is the name Su Zheng gave it in the letter.

But it's not over yet.

Next to this machine was something even more outrageous—a glass cabinet labeled "Seasoning Ratio Matrix," containing dozens of containers resembling IV drip bottles, each holding oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, sugar, wine, starch water, etc.

Each tube is precisely connected to the main pot.

"What... what the hell is this?" Sha Zhu stared wide-eyed, a sense of foreboding rising in his heart.

"This is the chef."

Zhao Ming patted the cold machine casing. "A tireless, lazy, emotionless, milligram-precise... super chef."

"You're just bragging!"

Sha Zhu tried to remain calm, "Cooking is an art! It's about feel! How can this iron thing know when to add salt? How can it tell if the heat is right?"

"Why don't you try and see?"

Without wasting any words, Zhao Ming directly directed several workers to bring over a basket of potatoes and a bowl of pork belly.

"Director Yang, let's add something new today. Twice-cooked pork with potato slices."

Zhao Ming walked to the control panel and pressed the start button.

"Buzz—"

The machine emitted a low rumble.

Step 1: Ingredient preparation.

Zhao Ming poured the muddy potatoes directly into the washing chamber.

High-pressure water jets spray out instantly, and the internal roller brushes spin rapidly. In just ten seconds, the clean potatoes are rolled into the cutting chamber.

"Sizzle—"

A sickening cutting sound.

Sha Zhu craned his neck to look, and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

Those potato chips looked like they had been copied from a photocopier.

The thickness is absolutely no more than 2 millimeters, each piece is uniform in size, and even the gloss of the cut edges is exactly the same.

Next up is the pork belly.

The hydraulic cutter assembly flipped up and down so fast that it was just a blur.

The pork belly was cut into standard thin slices, with alternating layers of fat and lean meat, neatly arranged.

"That knife skill..." An older kitchen helper swallowed hard, "is better than me after thirty years of practice..."

Sha Zhu's face paled slightly, but he still stubbornly insisted, "What's the use of good knife skills? The key to stir-frying is the heat!"

Step 2: Cooking.

Zhao Ming entered a series of commands on the control panel:

[Recipe: Twice-cooked Pork]

Serves 50

[Flavor: Salty, savory, and slightly spicy]

[Cooking Curve: Su Zheng - A3 Model (Stir-fry)]

"ignition!"

boom!

A blue flame shot out from the combustion chamber at the bottom of the machine.

That wasn't an ordinary coal fire; it was a pressurized gas fire (Su Zheng had modified the factory's gas pipeline).

The temperature soared instantly.

The drum pot begins to rotate.

First, heat the pan and then add cold oil.

150 grams of lard are precisely sprayed into the pot through the nozzle.

Next up are slices of pork belly.

"Sizzle—"

The sound of sliced ​​meat hitting the pot echoed throughout the entire cafeteria through the loudspeaker.

That's not just random speculation.

The drum has special guide vanes inside, which allow the meat slices to draw a perfect parabola in the air with each rotation, ensuring even heating and rapid oil extraction.

"This...this lamp holder has been fried?" Sha Zhu was dumbfounded.

Through the observation window, he could clearly see the slices of meat quickly curling up into pretty little bowl shapes—this is the most exquisite "lamp-shaped nest" of twice-cooked pork, a sign that the cooking time has reached its peak.

Immediately afterwards, fermented soybean paste was sprayed in.

The chili oil exploded instantly, and the aroma, as if guided by eyes, wafted into everyone's noses through the exhaust vents.

Add the potato slices to the pot.

Stir-fry over high heat.

The drum suddenly started spinning faster, as if an invisible giant hand was frantically tossing the food.

Salt, sugar, soy sauce... various seasonings are sprayed in with millisecond-level precision under the control of a microcomputer.

three minutes.

In just three minutes.

"Ding!"

A notification sound plays.

The roller tilted, and a large bowl of bright red, fragrant, and sizzling potato slices with twice-cooked pork slid out.

That fragrance...

How to describe it?

It was a pure, unadulterated, scientifically precise deliciousness.

Not a trace of burnt meat, not a trace of raw meat; every slice of meat and every slice of potato was coated with sauce.

"Gulp."

I don't know who swallowed first.

Immediately afterwards, the entire cafeteria was filled with the sounds of swallowing.

The nausea from that bowl of salted cabbage was instantly dispelled by this overpowering aroma.

"Director Yang, please taste it."

Zhao Ming handed over a pair of chopsticks.

Factory Director Yang had been craving it for a long time.

He picked up a piece of meat and put it in his mouth.

Rich but not greasy, melts in your mouth, and has a strong caramelized aroma.

"good!!"

Factory Director Yang slapped his thigh suddenly, "This is real twice-cooked pork! It's even more authentic than what the chefs at Quanjude make!"

The workers swarmed around them in a flurry.

"Give me one!"

"Me too! Me too!"

When the workers tasted it, their exclamations of praise almost lifted the roof off the canteen.

"Amazing! This machine is sentient!"

"This is so delicious! I've never had such a good big pot of food in my life!"

"Compared to this, what Sha Zhu made is practically pig feed!"

The excitement is theirs.

Sha Zhu stood alone in the corner, his whole body ice-cold.

He looked at the machine, still humming and preparing the next batch of food, and felt like an outdated clown.

His pride in his mastery of temperature control was mercilessly mocked by the temperature control dial.

His proud skill of flipping the wok was utterly defeated by that hydraulic roller.

His prized seasoning skills were utterly crushed by that matrix of seasonings.

Lost.

We lost completely.

This isn't a difference in skill level; it's a difference in the times.

It was a ruthless crushing of agriculture and handicrafts by industrial civilization.

Zhao Ming carried a plate of freshly cooked twice-cooked pork to Sha Zhu.

"Master He, would you like to try some?"

Sha Zhu, his hands trembling, picked up a slice of potato.

Entrance.

crisp.

Just cooked through, yet fully infused with flavor. This is the most difficult temperature to control when making potato slices.

Sha Zhu's tears fell.

It wasn't because it tasted good, it was because of despair.

He knew that from this day forward, He Yuzhu was completely useless in this cafeteria.

He could no longer control anyone, could no longer wield the spatula, and... he no longer even had the right to cook.

"He Yuzhu".

Factory Director Yang walked over and pointed to the pot of salted cabbage made by Sha Zhu.

"You have to accept the consequences of your bet."

"This dish is a result of your own actions. Since you think this is 'science,' then please finish it. If you can't finish it, don't come back tomorrow."

Sha Zhu looked at the bowl of pickled vegetables that even pigs wouldn't eat, and then at the cold, impersonal machine next to him.

He suddenly remembered Su Zheng.

That young man from far away in the Northwest.

He seemed to see Su Zhengzheng standing on a cloud, coldly looking down at him, a mocking smile on his lips.

"A devil...he's a devil..."

Sha Zhu muttered to himself.

He finally realized that he had messed with the wrong person.

Su Zheng is the kind of person who can kill without a knife and destroy hearts without words.

He crushed half a lifetime of pride with just one machine.

Sha Zhu knelt down with a thud, picked up the bowl of salted cabbage, and stuffed it into his mouth while crying.

"I'll eat...I'll eat..."

"I'll never do it again... Grandpa Su... I admit defeat..."

……

That night.

An urgent telegram was sent from the steel rolling mill to Base 001.

[The machine is running perfectly. Someone has taken the medication and is currently undergoing stomach lavage. —Disciple, Zhao Ming.]

The Great Northwest.

Su Zheng looked at the telegram and casually tossed it into the stove.

The flames engulfed the paper, illuminating his young yet resolute face.

"Gastric pumping? That's too easy on him."

Su Zheng stood up and straightened his collar.

Outside the door, the horn of a Jeep blared.

Ye Xinyi was already waiting for him in the car.

"Engineer Su, let's go."

Ye Xinyi peeked out, the morning sunlight shining on her hair. "The special train to Beijing has been arranged. The leaders in the ministry are all waiting for our 'Xuanwu' to report."

"They're here."

Su Zheng picked up his simple luggage and strode out the door.

……