Chapter 231 - 149: Hey, Mapo Tofu
Lai Fu nodded and made a few gestures with his fingers.
"Oh my, so the kind person from this morning was Zhou Yan! I had no idea." Mrs. Sun looked at Zhou Yan, her expression a little emotional. "No wonder the old saying goes that people with a connection are destined to meet. You two had never even seen each other, yet Lai Fu could rely on a cousin like you to help him sell his tofu. You... you’re just too good of a person."
Mrs. Zhou also looked at Zhou Yan with some surprise. She knew Zhou Yan bought his tofu from Lai Fu, but she didn’t expect him to have helped sell out the rest.
"Great-aunt, how much tofu does Lai Fu need to sell in a day for you two to make ends meet?" Zhou Yan asked, getting straight to the point.
Mrs. Sun thought for a moment and said, "A jin of tofu sells for two jiao. A jin of soybeans costs two jiao. One jin of soybeans makes three jin of tofu. After factoring in miscellaneous costs and losses, if he can sell ten jin of tofu a day, he can keep one yuan for himself. That would be enough to get by."
’Selling ten jin a day? Shouldn’t that be easy for anyone with hands?’
Zhou Yan estimated that the two blocks of tofu he helped Lai Fu sell this morning were about twenty jin total—small blocks, ten jin each.
If he sold two blocks, Lai Fu could earn two yuan a day. That’s sixty yuan a month.
That income was higher than a frontline worker at a textile factory.
Of course, a grueling trade would have a decent profit margin. Otherwise, who would work themselves to the bone for it?
"Great-aunt, you just focus on teaching him to make the tofu well. Don’t worry about sales. I’ll figure something out for him. I can guarantee he’ll sell at least ten jin of tofu a day." Now with a plan in mind, Zhou Yan patted his chest and assured Mrs. Sun.
But Mrs. Sun waved her hands repeatedly. "You’re so busy running your own restaurant. How could we possibly trouble you? We couldn’t, we just couldn’t."
"Now you’re treating me like a stranger. I just haven’t started making tofu dishes yet. Once I learn to make Mapo Tofu, I might need my cousin to deliver ten jin of tofu to my restaurant every day," Zhou Yan said with a smile, first putting Mrs. Sun at ease before asking curiously, "Great-aunt, your mobility isn’t what it used to be. Are you still able to make tofu by hand?"
Mrs. Sun shook her head. "I can’t do it anymore. I just move a stool over, sit, and tell Lai Fu what to do. I guide him step-by-step for one block, and he makes the other one himself. That’s why one block is a bit better and the other is a bit worse. You could surely taste the difference."
"There is a bit of a difference. The one you guided him on is especially good. The tofu is delicate and tender, but also resilient. I used it to make crucian carp soup and it didn’t fall apart even after boiling for eight minutes. The one Lai Fu made is about the same as what they sell outside, but there’s still a gap compared to yours," Zhou Yan said with a nod. "In the future, if my restaurant needs any, I’ll take the block you guided him on. Once Lai Fu reaches your level, I’ll take the ones he makes on his own."
"Spoken like a true chef. You really know your stuff." Mrs. Sun’s gaze toward Zhou Yan changed slightly, and she nodded repeatedly. "Then we’ll definitely give you the good one. It’s different when you’re selling it to customers in a restaurant."
Zhou Yan added, "Have him make two blocks of tofu again tomorrow. He can sell them at the head of the bridge. I’m going to buy groceries tomorrow morning, so I can drop by and help him call out to customers a bit. If people buy it and like it, they’ll naturally come back next time. Once you’ve built up a reputation, the business won’t be hard to do."
"Alright! It’s just... we’re troubling you so much." Mrs. Sun nodded.
"We’re family, don’t say such things." Zhou Yan waved his hand dismissively. He looked at Mrs. Sun’s red, swollen eyes, hesitated for a moment, and finally spoke up. "Great-aunt, have you been to a hospital for your eyes? To me, it looks like an infection. Would you like me to take you to the hospital to get them checked out one of these days?"
Passing down a craft is not something that can be accomplished in a day or two.
Although Lai Fu had mastered the basics, to achieve perfection and reach Mrs. Sun’s level of skill, he would need his master’s guidance.
Mrs. Sun’s eye ailment was a source of some concern for Zhou Yan.
It didn’t look like glaucoma. He guessed it was related to her frequent crying after losing her son, more likely an infection.
Mrs. Sun shook her head. "There’s no need. I had Liu the Fifth look at them before. He said my eyes can’t be cured, and I should just cherish each day I can still see."
"What the hell does that barefoot doctor Liu the Fifth know? He used to be a veterinarian! He read the *Barefoot Doctor’s Manual* for two days and suddenly had the guts to treat people!" Mrs. Zhou was a bit irritated. She took Mrs. Sun by the arm and said, "Li Hua, you still need to go to a hospital and see a real doctor."
"Alright..."
As the two old women began to chat, Zhou Yan went to wander around the courtyard.
The rammed-earth house was riddled with cracks, a rather shocking sight.
Having experienced a house collapse before, Zhou Yan knew very well that this dilapidated building would never survive next summer’s rainy season.
The last time his family’s house collapsed, it was because Comrade Zhou was alert enough to pull his mother and Zhou Momo out in time, which was why they weren’t injured.
But Lai Fu was deaf and mute, and Mrs. Sun had trouble with her legs. If this house were to collapse, they might not actually be able to get out.
’Rebuilding the house is simply too expensive,’ Zhou Yan mulled. ’If they could earn money selling tofu, they could rent a house with a courtyard in town. It would be more convenient for business, too.’
Of course, it was their family’s business, not his to decide. When the time came, he could only offer them a suggestion.
The dried tofu skin sticks sunning in the courtyard piqued Zhou Yan’s interest. He walked over and picked one up. It was a pale, translucent yellow, dried to a crisp. With a gentle snap, it broke cleanly. The cross-section revealed many tiny, hollow holes. He brought it to his nose and sniffed, catching a rich, pure aroma of soy.
Truly worthy of the [Extremely Good] Identification. The quality was indeed high.
An idea sparked in Zhou Yan’s mind. This was a great ingredient for braised dishes. Plus, it wasn’t affected by the seasons and could be sold year-round.
Zhou Yan then ducked into the thatched hut off to the side for a look.
Inside were six smoking racks, though only one stove was lit at the moment. On a sieve, hundreds of slices of pressed tofu, all of uniform thickness, were neatly arranged. Their color was quite beautiful.