Winter 1965.
The back kitchen of the Red Star Rolling Mill.
A small, thin figure quietly lifted the door curtain.
The kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of chicken soup.
The boy swallowed hard and quickly wiped the saliva from the corner of his mouth.
The boy, around ten years old, was in rags, with cotton spilling out of the cuffs of his tattered padded jacket.
His right hand was hidden behind his back, clutching an empty soy sauce bottle.
Several cooks were busy preparing meals.
A girl was sorting vegetables, a middle-aged man was chopping them, the young head chef was stir-frying dishes, and an assistant was helping pass seasonings.
Making sure no one was paying attention, the boy slipped over to the cupboard and took the opportunity to pour the soy sauce from the jar into his own bottle.
"Banggeng, don't be greedy! This is public property!"
The head chef warned him.
Clearly, something similar had happened many times before.
The boy showed no fear whatsoever, steadily filled his bottle to the brim, capped it tightly, and hurried away.
The head chef picked up a rolling pin, intending to hurl it after him.
Shielded by the door curtain, he wasn't worried about hurting the child.
Right at that moment, the door curtain was lifted again, and a rakish-looking man barged in.
"Whack!"
The rolling pin struck the newcomer squarely in the chest.
The man tumbled to the ground, knocking over a nearby washbasin stand in the process.
"Who is it? Stand up and face me!"
The man, dazed from the blow, caught his breath and brandished the rolling pin as he demanded to know who was responsible.
"Ha ha..."
The head chef burst out laughing, and those around him struggled to hold back their snickers.
"Xu Damao, who else would act like this besides you?"
The man beat the stool with the rolling pin to show his indignation: "Shazhu, it was you making trouble again! Have you grown tired of living?"
The young man calmly replied: "Xu Damao, I've realized you really are a disaster magnet. I was just dealing with Widow Qin's kid, and you just had to walk in at that exact moment! Not to mention, you didn't even use the front entrance; why sneak in through the back? Creeping around like a ghost—anyone could tell you were up to no good!"
The newcomer patted his bruised chest with one hand while pointing at the young man with the other. "Don't be so smug, Shazhu! Do you even know who invited me here? The factory director himself!"
"Xu Damao, don't go trying to suck up to people who don't want you around. Do you really think he invited you? He was probably just making polite conversation, asking you to set up a little movie screening tonight to liven things up!"
"So what, Shazhu? At least I get to share a drink and sit at the same table as the factory director. And you? You're just a cook!"
Upon hearing this, the young man named Shazhu grabbed a handful of cucumber strips and Chinese cabbage leaves from the prep table and hurled them at him.
The man called Xu Damao hurriedly bolted toward the side door.
Shazhu shouted after him: "Don't eat that chicken! I put laxatives in it!"
Xu Damao replied without looking back: "I brought paper with me!"
Watching Xu Damao lift the door curtain and disappear, Shazhu suddenly fell into a daze.
In the blink of an eye, he had been in this world for almost half a year.
This was an ordinary, even monotonous era, devoid of computers, cell phones, and televisions.
The only silver lining was the absence of a mortgage.
"Master, there are still two dishes left to make!"
Mahua reminded him from the side.
Mahua was Shazhu's apprentice, newly assigned to the rolling mill this year and still in his probationary period.
"Right."
Shazhu acknowledged, walking over to inspect the ingredients Mahua and the others had prepared.
A moment later, a plate of vinegar-braised cabbage, a plate of sliced pork with radishes, and a plate of stewed chicken with mushrooms were served on the table.
Ding...
The System's chime sounded:
[Culinary Arts skill increased by 10 points, reaching the junior gold level!]
This was the System He Yuzhu—formerly known as Shazhu—had acquired after transmigrating.
It was a replication system.
Whenever he encountered someone skilled in a particular craft, He Yuzhu could use a duplication card to copy their abilities.
These skills could be further improved upon their original foundation, though it required accumulating his own experience.
Take Culinary Arts, for instance: every dish cooked granted corresponding skill points. Upon accumulating 1,000 points, the culinary skill would advance by one rank.
Over the half year since his transmigration, He Yuzhu had copied skills such as cooking, painting, singing, and antique appraisal, numbering over a dozen in total.
Yet in this era, these skills seemed to have very little practical use.
Today he should have already finished work, but the factory director was entertaining guests.
In the past, such banquets occurred perhaps two or three times a month, but ever since He Yuzhu's arrival, they had visibly increased in frequency.