Canteen System Assistance Notes

"So we'll have lunch here, rest for an hour, and then we'll be off!"

After parking the car outside the "Jingtaichuan Shangshawo Road Maintenance Station," Wang Shunfeng turned off the engine and jumped out. If the entire convoy had parked inside the maintenance station, the Ming Dynasty-era fort would have been completely packed, so most cars had to park outside the fort.

The convoy of over 300 modern trucks resembled a classical phalanx of chariots, parked next to this feudal-era border fortress, creating a striking contrast. Wang Shunfeng pulled two lunch boxes from the glove compartment and dragged Wang Shijin toward the kitchen cart.

"Come on, Shi Jin. We're having dumplings for lunch today, with pork and leeks... Hmm? Shi Jin, what are you doing?"

Wang Shijin, who had been silent just now, stood at the back of the team, not saying a word. He clutched his lunch box and chopsticks, looking down at the rough, dry surface that couldn't even be called soil, then looking around at the desolate wasteland—there was almost no green in the Jingtai River in December—against the yellow background, the northwest wind blew the windsock of the fort's earthen wall askew, and rolled up sand and dust as high as his feet, whirring close to the ground.

"Uncle Wang, what's the point of doing this?"

Wang Shijin suddenly asked a question out of the blue.

"What?"

With a flick of the spoon, Wang Shunfeng poured about 30 steaming dumplings with thin skins and big bellies into the ten-jin lunch box. The sound of the dumplings making the slopping sound made it difficult for him to hear the child's mumblings. "Ten-jin, what did you say? Why have you been like a lost soul these past two days? Come, eat the dumplings. Do you want vinegar? It's over there, add it yourself."

The eighteen-year-old looked at the chive dumplings that had been steaming for a long time, held the lunch box in his hand, pursed his lips, and ultimately said nothing. He poured a few mouthfuls of vinegar on the dumplings and squatted aside. He hadn't bullied him, so what was wrong?

Wang Shunfeng was completely bewildered, holding his lunch box in his hands for a long moment. He carefully recalled the past few days' journey: the convoy had set out, passing through Suzhou, Ganzhou, and Gujian, with road crews providing support along the way. That meant the 300-kilometer journey to Zhongwei would be quite demanding, requiring drivers to leave at dawn and drive all the way until 6 p.m. to reach the Zhongwei road crew.

It seemed that the little fellow's silence started only after he passed Guzang.

Shi Jin was born in the hardscrabble area of ​​Yumen. According to Captain Qiu, his family was very poor when he was little, and he himself started out as a farmer, herding sheep and farming before starting school at the age of 17. He couldn't possibly say he couldn't handle this little hardship, could he?

Something unhappy must have happened.

Wang Shunfeng found himself facing problems he had never thought about or faced before. So what would Master Yu do at this time?

The newly appointed driver pondered: if he were ever in emotional distress, Master Yu would surely have come to talk to him. His mind flashed back to that middle-aged master, a skilled shot with a pistol and a smattering of English. He hoped to find some insights from his intertwined memories and experiences to help the ten-pound kid from Yumen.

Let’s talk to him first.

All work begins with communication, and communication can begin with taste buds. Wang Shunfeng approached the kitchen staff and, after much persuasion, begged for a spoonful of sesame and chili oil, placing it on the lid of his lunch box.

Peanut, sesame oil, and chili peppers—the rubber is finished in a few bites. The fleet's catchy saying vividly reflects the veteran drivers' fondness for this "tastiest dip in rubber" concoction. Wang Shunfeng believed that with this as an introduction, the ten-pound kid would definitely open his mouth and explain why he had suddenly become a stuffed sweet potato egg.

"Ten pounds! Come try this! Uncle brought you some delicious chili oil!"

He shouted and looked around for Wang Shijin. Suddenly, he found the thin figure squatting in the corner of the road maintenance station, tears streaming down his face.

Wang Shijin wiped his eyes with his sleeves, picked up dumplings with chopsticks and put them into his mouth, crying all the time. He took a few bites and then sniffed hard because of the unstoppable tears, but he always coughed because of the choking. But the tears kept flowing like an irrigation canal with water opened, dripping into the lunch box and onto the ground.

"Ten pounds! Damn it! What's wrong with you? Who the hell bullied you?"

Wang Shunfeng was furious. Who the hell dared to bully his little apprentice? He rolled up his sleeves and rushed over - but after hearing his voice, Wang Shijin just shook his head, pointed at a long, old wooden stake with pits dug in it in front of him, and asked vaguely.

"Uncle Wang...why, why are people here using this too?"

Chapter 366: A Little Story (3) Jingtai Bowl

A very common wooden stake stuck in the ground, but its shape is obviously more like a log.

A closer look revealed a trunk of red willow. The old, withered wood had been completely dehydrated, revealing the wear and tear of years. Several cracks ran along the grain, entwining it like the lines of a bone. Judging by the signs of use, it must have been a beam somewhere before being unearthed during the renovation of this road station, where it was leaning upright.

The only peculiar thing about this piece of wood is that there are several shallow semicircular pits dug into it. These pits of varying sizes are distributed along one side of the wood, with a total of 6.

Facing Shi Jin with tears streaming down his face, Wang Shunfeng was a little confused about the situation.

This item clearly had a special purpose, but after living in the Hetao region for over twenty years, he had no idea what it was used for. The fact that Shi Jin had such genuine affection for it must have held a special meaning. Wang Shunfeng, not understanding its value, thought it would be better to remain silent if he spoke without investigating and understanding the underlying reasons.

He patted Shi Jin's back gently, put his hands on his shoulders, and offered some comfort to the best of his ability.

Wang Shijin, standing before him, was no longer crying loudly, but was sobbing softly. The former socially awkward person, the silent cat just now, now looked more like a young woman about to get married, not an 18-year-old from Northwest China. This thing, this thing, a wooden stake for digging a pit...

Wang Shunfeng remembered that he seemed to have seen this thing before during his more than ten transportation missions. When he was helping the village road crew to send a pregnant woman to a fellow villager, a group of young men rushed into the house, lifted the pregnant woman about to give birth from the kang onto the truck, and rushed to the midwife's house. At that time, there seemed to be such a beam on the fellow villager's kang.

In addition, when the convoy passed through Ganzhou and Guzang, they accidentally found such wood for digging holes in the herdsmen's homes near the campsite.

So what was it used for? Wang Shunfeng pounded his head, trying to wring the answer from his brain, but to no avail. At this moment, he desperately wished he had the experience of Master Yu. Surely Master Yu knew the purpose of this wood and could analyze the reason for Shi Jin's grief.

"The Yellow River has a hundred harms, but only one benefit: it's very common for you not to know about the favorable winds."

A familiar voice sounded behind him. Wang Shunfeng turned around and saw Captain Qiu standing behind them, his hands behind his back. He squatted down and spoke calmly. "Shunfeng, this is a bowl from my fellow villager."

A bowl, a container for food, has a wide mouth and a narrow bottom, is generally round and made of metal, ceramic, or wood. Wang Shunfeng is very familiar with it. Even wooden bowls, he has seen dozens, if not hundreds.

Six shallow pits dug horizontally on a wooden stake in front of him—a concept Wang Shunfeng could hardly associate with "bowls." "This place is similar to Yumen. The soil is poor, the mud is loose, and it's impossible to make bricks, let alone pottery."

Old Qiu helped Wang Shijin up. "There's not much wood here. A family that owns a house might only have one or two beams, and maybe a piece of wood in front of the kang, let alone carving a bowl. Poor families can only dig a few holes on the edge of the kang. When it's time to eat, they pour the soup or porridge into the trough and squat down to eat.

"This earthen castle occupies three nearby springs and a livestock well. It was naturally once occupied by a large landowner. This 'bowl' was probably taken from a fellow villager's house by the landlord to pay off a debt."

Captain Qiu looked at Wang Shunfeng, who was already paralyzed and unable to move, and calmly and peacefully recounted the facts he knew, "Shunfeng, in your area, a family's large property might be oxen, farm tools, or at least door panels, iron pots, etc.

"Here, if someone has a few bowls, it's considered a big deal."

Captain Qiu pulled Wang Shijin aside and supervised him to eat the remaining dumplings. Only Wang Shunfeng, who had become a wooden man, was left at the scene.

The previous ease was gone, and apart from shock, Wang Shunfeng was left with only a sadness so strong that it blocked his vision: in the past few years, he thought he had seen a lot and suffered a lot, but at this moment, he was still broken through by the poverty and hardship of the people in the northwest.

There is little rainfall here. Although the Yellow River is right next door, it is impossible to dig canals to divert water due to the terrain. The people can only survive by relying on some springs with high fluoride content.

The land here is barren. While not desertified, widespread drought makes farming and animal husbandry difficult. Farmers can only spread gravel and gravel across the fields, creating "sand fields," hoping the morning dew will allow their crops to barely survive. Or they can scatter seeds on the barren hills, hoping for a few grains of rice to grow through the grace of nature.

Even in such difficult circumstances, they were still exploited in many ways. The Jingtai River was once under the jurisdiction of the Qing Ma (Qing Ma) government, so their levy of labor and taxation could not possibly miss these villages on the other side of the Yellow River. Even drinking water was exploited by the landlords and water heads (the heads who controlled the water sources) entrenched in the earthen forts. Every last bit of value was practically squeezed out of them.

This situation was clearly not an isolated incident—from the actions of the ten-jin brother, even though he had never left Yumen, he had witnessed many such human tragedies. Throughout the northwest, in places he couldn't see, such incidents were clearly more numerous, more common, and more commonplace.

This heavy and heartbreaking sorrow turned into tears, blurring Wang Shunfeng's vision and making him unable to control himself. Captain Qiu's brief summary of Shi Jin drifted over with the wind.

But it was like a heavy hammer hitting his heart: Such deep and desolate suffering, such deep and irreversible poverty, is it really God's will, is it really something we can change?

"I'm telling you two, everyone else eats dumplings like it's Chinese New Year, but you guys, you eat dumplings like you're getting married."

Just when Wang Shunfeng was in the same confusion as Shi Jin, Captain Lao Qiu punched him on the shoulder, pulling him out of his depressed mood, "Look, Shunfeng,

I have to criticize myself first.

Instead of untangling the knot, you've already gotten yourself into trouble! It seems I haven't done my job as the transport team leader properly!"

Captain Qiu glanced at the "bowl" leaning against the wall and led the two men out of Wubao. He found a small mound, checked his watch, and then asked the two boys to sit down.

Dingfeng, Shijin, you two both have the surname Wang, so you're related, and your families are all from the northwest. Why don't I ask you a few questions first? "Old Qiu paused and asked a question first, "Shunfeng, your family lives in Huinong, and it doesn't rain much, but the land there can grow crops. In recent years, everyone has had some surplus at home and can afford to use bowls. Do you know why?"

"Oh, that." Wang Shunfeng thought for a moment and quickly came up with an answer. "In 37, after our team arrived, we all worked together to repair the canal, diverting water from the Yellow River, and the land became irrigated. Later, the government provided good seeds and established an agricultural machinery cooperative. With good harvests and low taxes, everyone had a surplus of food at home. For those of us who received salary subsidies from outsiders, even if we didn't farm, we could still have enough to eat."

Wang Shunfeng concluded: "I think the most important thing here is water."

"Yes, that's a crucial reason. In this northwest region, water is more important than anything else." Captain Qiu nodded in approval and continued asking, "Shijin, where you live, even though we don't have the water from the Yellow River, we do have the Yaer River, and we have oil to sell. So why can't everyone afford to eat? We can't even afford to use bowls, and we have to dig holes in the kang?"

"this...…""

Wang Shijin hesitated for a moment, then clenched his fists. His teeth chattered as he angrily declared, "It's District Chief Ma who deserves to be burned to death! He seized a few acres of my family's land, then used a few rolls of coarse cloth to steal my father's land deed! He's leveraging his connections to that evil Han to lend money at high interest rates, ruining the lives of the villagers. Men are forced to work the fields, women are kidnapped and sold, and the young ones are forced to work as oil scoops, scooping up the oil that seeps from the oil ditch."

"The railway guards killed that Han demon and drove away the district chief. I'm afraid he'll continue to bully my family!" "Yes, that's right, that's it!"

Old Qiu slapped his thigh and said, "Don't you all know this?"

------—-

Why is it that in the Northwest, everyone's family is poor, and life is difficult? A poor son is poor, and a hard-pressed mother's daughter is hard-pressed—the natural conditions are harsh, God won't send rain, and the God of Land won't give good land. Jingtai River is high in the east and low in the west, and even the Yellow River can't be diverted.

"And then there's the ruthless landlords, the treacherous county magistrates, and even the sinister Shuitou of Jingtai River! How can we expect to live well with them causing such trouble?"

"Then why don't we charge into Jincheng?" Wang Shijin finally regained his impulsive energy. "Our convoy has over 300 vehicles! I dare say all the trucks in Jincheng combined wouldn't be as numerous or as large as ours! Why don't we drive them all away and let the Eighth Route Army take over as governor?"

Panting, he suddenly stood up, but Captain Qiu shook his head seriously and rejected the proposal of this very tough man: "We haven't driven away these little Japanese devils yet! Shi Jin, if we fight with Chiang Kai-shek and those local warlords now, we can certainly beat them to a pulp, but we don't have the ability to occupy all the territory and manage it well. In the end, the devils will get the advantage. Let alone our northwest, how much good land in Henan, Hebei and Shanxi provinces has been occupied by the devils, and how many people have been harmed by the devils and can't live a good life?

"We must prioritize contradictions and seize opportunities in battle. Now we must first deal with those little devils—this bunch of landlords and warlords. If they are still willing to contribute a little to the war of resistance,

We still allow them to jump for a few more days. Besides, who in Gan Province can

"The final say doesn't depend on who sits on the provincial governor's seat—it depends on who the people support. The people are on our side, so even in Jinzhou City, we have the final say. How can his orders get out of the gate? Secondly, it depends on our guns. If they want to fight, we will fight them back and make sure they have no way back, so they can no longer bully the people."

Captain Qiu clapped his hands, stood up, and put his hands on the shoulders of the two men.

"Since the Opium War, we've been a semi-feudal, semi-colonial country for exactly one hundred years. Five generations have endured suffering, and I think my generation is almost done with it. You guys are finally turning things around—look!" He extended his hand, pointing from the water pipes behind Wubao into the distance. At the far end of their field of vision, Wang Shunfeng and Shijin spotted a tall, protruding building, striking against the flat horizon.

"Deep well pumps, iron water towers, and cement water cellars! Now the folks in Shangshawo no longer have to wait for the spring water to flow all day long to get drinking water. With water, they can plant some crops; maybe later, they can raise a few chickens and a couple of sheep, eat candied rice, wear sheepskin coats, and their children can go to school without having to work day and night to make oil like before.

"Eat dumplings one by one, dig the iron mountain with a shovel. It's not that I don't want revenge, it's just that the time hasn't come yet. Let's drive away those little devils, then we'll deal with those landlords and warlords, and finally, we'll fight this unbearable heaven! You two are young, why are you still so sad? Can you bear this burden? Crying alone is useless. If you can't, then I'll hand it over to someone else!"

Chapter 367: A Short Story (4) Cutting Off Poverty

"Before I went to Huinong, I thought the first phase of Yumen's drilling, mining and refining project was a remarkable industrial achievement."

Later, when Wang Shijin, who was awarded the honor of National Model Worker and the title of "Iron Man", was interviewed and recalled his experience of representing the whole class to visit Huinong Industrial Zone - or should it be called Xingqing Industrial Zone - he could not help but sigh.

"By the second half of 40, they had an annual crude oil production of 10 tons and the capacity to refine it. One hundred thousand tons... if we had to scoop up that much oil, how many people would we need?"

The teachers at Heke School were still talking about the Yaerxia Oilfield, which was set to begin construction in 41. They said even the Investment Committee was paying for the equipment, and once completed, it would add another 25 tons of annual production to the Yumen Oilfield. Indeed, at that time, the entire Yumen region was like a massive construction site, with fleets and machinery from the central government and overseas Chinese hustling back and forth. People from several surrounding counties and towns also worked there. Even Chiang Kai-shek's Investment Committee paid out of its own pocket to buy us equipment.

"Everything seemed to be thriving and there were no problems, right? -- I thought so at first, but not long after, I was dealt a heavy blow.

His smile froze on his face and his tone turned serious.

"Starting from Yumen and heading east, I found that poverty was spreading like an epidemic across the land. Not only my hometown, not only Jingtai River, but even

You can find its shadow in Ning Province, Xingqing, and Huinong.

child. "

This elderly iron man's muscles were taut, his body still strong despite his age, like the unfurled red flag during the oil campaign, seemingly imbued with the inexhaustible glory of mission and responsibility. But after all, time wears thin, and with the comfort of his family and the interviewer, he relaxed and settled back into his reclining chair.

"I've already told you the story of Jingtaichuan. Afterwards, Brother Shunfeng and I continued eastward, and soon we arrived in Zhongwei.

"That was Ma Ziyin's territory, but he was cooperating with us. We had our exploration team and working group in Zhongwei City. At that time, anyone with a discerning eye could see that Ma Ziyin's peacemaking with our government was a temporary measure for that group, but it was still better than being a diehard and completely uncooperative individual. The situation in the city was not bad. There was water and land, and our team's work area was also good. The convoy could provide supplies and even support many of the working villagers. But once we left there, it was back to the same old situation."

At this point, Wang Shijin shook his head and said, "It's a pity that the Japanese were still around at that time..."

"After passing Qingtongxia, the road suddenly became better, the cars were going much faster, and our group grew larger and larger."

The old man recalled, "After the February Incident, practically the entire Ning Province plain was taken over by our army. Then came the deployment of resident work teams to the villages and the launch of a series of social reform and infrastructure projects. By the end of 40, Wang Shijin must have been greeted by a thriving construction scene—vast quantities of steel and concrete, and a workforce transforming the entire Ning Province plain into a vast construction site, with workers repairing water conservancy projects, laying cables, and installing loudspeakers. Just thinking about it makes one feel the vibrant vitality of the place."

This scene is obviously even more precious in a country in war.

However, the young "Iron Man" was obviously different from others. He paid attention to more details in this enthusiasm and found many imperfections.

"Except for construction sites and factories operating three shifts, power supply elsewhere is timed—hey, there's a power outage between 6:00 PM and 8:00 PM—because the residential electricity load is too high at that time, and the high-frequency electric furnace at the Huinong Iron Works is used to peak load. Furthermore, the farther away from the Huinong District power station, the voltage becomes unstable, making it easy for lightbulbs to burn out. Many construction sites must use expensive generators, and if the gasoline and diesel supply runs out, the power will go out."

"The large kitchen that supplied most people only had minced meat and vegetables every day. What was the ration? Two taels? Five cents? I can't quite remember, but it was something like that. Yes, I know it was great to be able to taste meat and have oil to cook at that time. But it was far from sufficient. With less oil and water, everyone had to eat more staple food, otherwise they wouldn't be able to work.

"There are also cars. The transport group's cars are all blue-plate trucks and Dongfeng trucks, but the cars in the base are all kinds of things. I saw a coal-burning pot camel cart.

There are also tung oil-burning hot ball motorcycles, horse-drawn carriage hybrid power-assisted vehicles, and

There are more rickshaws, animal-drawn carts—ha, if only we could have all the trucks like the transport regiments.”

The old man was lost in his own world, wondering how much faster development would have been if he had a few more integrated drilling rigs. Or, if the Qingtongxia Hydropower Station had traveled back to the Anti-Japanese War, how many metallurgical furnaces could it have powered? Or, why hadn't our forces been stronger? It would have been better to have sent troops directly to Jincheng, wiped out those warlords' lair, liberated Northwest China, and built a railway along the way. Only after his family repeatedly tugged at his sleeves and whispered several times did he reluctantly give up his fantasies and return to the interview.

"I'm fine, I won't say anything more... But people always hope for the better. Creating a better life for everyone, letting everyone live a better life, isn't that our mission? Why should we stop?"

"So, after I finished my visit and returned to Yumen from Huinong, I actually set a goal—oh, it's funny, I took our aviation team's plane back, but I was fine sitting in the truck all the way, but I got airsick on the plane, hahahaha!"

The iron man fainted the iron bird and he couldn't help laughing.

"I thought, 'This won't do. If I can't fly a plane, how am I ever going to fly a drilling rig?' When I got back, I begged the pilot to take me up in the sky again, but he ended up scolding me."

This youthful self-deprecation, tinged with a sense of inexplicable responsibility, made everyone present smile, yet also stand in awe. The aging Iron Man still retained his agile mind and surging passion, his heart beating vigorously, pumping warm blood and a fiery will.

"I have set an ambition,"

He thought for a moment and repeated solemnly, "If I can make our Chinese workers and peasants have enough food and clothing, no longer have to depend on the weather for food, no longer be invaded by foreign enemies or oppressed by others, and everyone has enough food to eat at home,

"I would give my life for this."

Wang Shijin glanced at the bowl on the table and habitually acted like an elder:

You young people, you didn't experience that time, so you don't know... Let me tell you, I was studying while helping out at the Yumen Mine, doing an internship and learning from the masters and engineers. Oh, there were even British masters working at the mine, and I even learned English so I could ask them questions.

"Then the Americans became our allies for a few years and sent us equipment. That was great! The first phase of the Yumen project cost 10 tons, the second 25, and now the third phase has arrived, adding another 25, instantly increasing our production and refining capacity to 60 tons a year to supply fuel for our bombers. That was great. I had experience, was educated, and knew a few words of English, so I joined the drilling team right away, learning as I went, and that's how I ended up in the oil industry."

He stretched out a hand and waved it.

"I'm not afraid of you laughing at me, but I was thinking, 'Wow, 600,000 tons of oil! Now we'll never run out of oil again. Every household in China should be able to light an oil lamp and drive a tractor.'"

——―——---

At this point, the national model worker laughed and said: "I was still young at that time and had no idea about productivity development and resource demand.

"Haha, 60 tons is roughly equivalent to 85 tons of standard coal. This year, our newly commissioned, air-cooled, fourth-generation nuclear power plant in Jincheng is expected to generate 450 billion kilowatt-hours of electricity, equivalent to 1530 million tons of standard coal, less than a fraction of that. Fossil energy is ultimately a constraint. After realizing this, I immediately decided to encourage my grandson to study nuclear energy, hehe.

"Now, I heard that HT-7 has discharged for two seconds. I am so happy. I hope to live to see the fusion power station connected to the grid. Oh! If my grandson can give me a four-generation family, I will have no regrets when I meet Marx." He pulled a reluctant young man over from the side.