Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Changed Fool Pillar

When Chen Liang stepped out of the office, the cafeteria director nearly bent over to see him off with respect.

Chen Liang didn’t make things difficult for the director. Once he clarified his background, the director was already prepared to pay up and avoid further trouble. In the end, Chen Liang stuck to his original demands: the bicycle tickets were converted to market value, and the meat was priced at sixty cents per pound—still leaving a margin for profit.

Passing by the kitchen, Chen Liang saw Shazhu boasting to someone. Spotting Chen Liang, Shazhu hurried over, grinning. “So, did you teach Bald Zhang a lesson?”

“You’re really something. Do you have a grudge with him or what?” It was nearly lunch time and Chen Liang was hungry, so he grabbed a steamed bun and began to eat.

A woman with some charm noticed and protested, “Who are you? How can you just take cafeteria food like that?”

Swallowing the bun, Chen Liang replied, “Put this on Shazhu’s tab.”

Shazhu protested, “Hey, Chen Liang, why should that bun go on my account?”

Chen Liang shot him a glance. “Because I just did you a favor. Can’t I eat two buns for that?” He took another hearty bite.

Shazhu laughed, “Alright, take your time. If you need more, just ask. Liu Lan, keep track of how much he eats—it’s all on me!”

“Then bring me some dishes, don’t make me eat dry buns!” Chen Liang called out.

“Fine, fine!” Shazhu scooped a generous portion of meat and placed it in front of Chen Liang.

Chen Liang ended up eating eight hefty buns, each weighing a quarter pound, before he was satisfied, leaving the kitchen to ride their grocery tricycle.

Liu Lan, witnessing someone eat so much for the first time, reached out to Shazhu, “Master He, that’s eight ounces of grain coupons and fifty cents for the food. Pay up!”

Shazhu was stunned. “Damn, is he a reincarnated starving ghost? That’s almost my daily ration in one meal.”

He dutifully handed over the money for Chen Liang’s bill. “I’ve really lost big today!”

After lunch, Chen Liang rode the tricycle out to the city outskirts, circling around for a while. Once he confirmed no one was watching, he produced three slaughtered fat pigs from the supermarket, tying up a section of pig intestines, a heart, lungs, and liver with straw rope.

He then rode back openly, becoming the most eye-catching figure of the day. With a letter of authorization from the Red Star Steel Factory, he was in no rush, leisurely pedaling along.

When Chen Liang delivered the three fat pigs to the Red Star Steel Factory, it caused quite a stir. The news spread rapidly, and soon everyone knew that Cafeteria Three had received three fat pigs.

With tens of thousands of workers, the Red Star Steel Factory could never fit them all in one cafeteria, so there were four: north, south, east, and west. Cafeteria Three, where Shazhu worked, was already popular due to his delicious cooking. Now, with three fat pigs, the dinner rush was overwhelming, exhausting Shazhu and his team. That evening, the cafeteria director was even praised by Deputy Director Li, who oversaw logistics.

But that’s another story. When Chen Liang reached the north gate, he handed everything except the intestines to Lu Youwei.

Lu Youwei was worried. “Liang, you need to be careful. Speculation is a serious crime!”

Chen Liang produced the special authorization letter from the cafeteria director. “Don’t worry, uncle. Look at this—a letter of proof! I’m buying for the cafeteria; who would dare gossip?”

“Alright, as long as you know what you’re doing,” Lu Youwei relaxed after seeing the letter.

Before leaving, Chen Liang reminded him, “Uncle, I’m getting married Sunday. Don’t forget—make sure to drink with my master!”

“Got it! I won’t forget. Go on, get busy!” Lu Youwei waved him off.

The three fat pigs weighed a total of thirteen hundred pounds. After collecting payment from the director, Chen Liang converted the bicycle tickets for a hundred and twenty yuan, pocketing six hundred and sixty-six in cash and the tickets, then hurried off to the department store to buy a bicycle.

Meanwhile, after the tidal wave of dinner patrons, Shazhu was ready to head home with his lunchbox, but after a few steps, he turned back.

He handed his lunchbox to Ma Hua. “Hua, take this lunchbox home.”

Ma Hua, surprised by the gesture, asked, “Master, you’re not bringing the lunchbox? What about Sister Qin’s family?”

Shazhu already had a headache over this, and Ma Hua’s question only made it worse. “Just take it, stop nagging! I’m off!”

With his hands behind his back, humming a local tune, Shazhu strolled home.

As he reached his doorway, he saw the charming Widow Qin waiting for his lunchbox. He instinctively wanted to approach but forced himself to hold back.

Passing by her, he greeted her. The widow, surprised that her usual admirer didn’t come over, noticed Shazhu wasn’t carrying his lunchbox and her expression instantly darkened.

Though fleeting, Shazhu, who was always watching her, caught the change.

That’s how people are: when you like someone, their virtues are magnified and their flaws minimized—even their faults seem endearing. But when you dislike or doubt them, it’s reversed; virtues shrink and flaws loom large. Widow Qin’s brief shadowed face left Shazhu feeling uncomfortable.

“Shazhu, you didn’t bring your lunchbox today?” she asked as usual, unaware of the situation.

“Oh? I was so busy tonight I forgot,” Shazhu thought to himself: So she waits here every day just for my lunchbox?

“Really? Well, it can’t be helped. Banggen hasn’t had meat for two days—my fault for not being a capable mother…”

Shazhu sneered inwardly. Only two days without meat and she’s complaining? My sister only gets meat once a week!

“Sister Qin, anything else? If not, I’m heading in—I’ve had a long, tiring day!” Shazhu cut her off, not wanting to listen further.

He entered his home, pushed open the door, and found the place in disarray.

Anger flared instantly—no need to guess, Banggen the brat must have snuck in for his peanuts.

Bah! Men are fickle—when you like someone, she’s your sweetheart; when you don’t, she’s a shrew. What a scoundrel!