Chapter 15 Patient Meals
Upon hearing that Shen Wanjun could speak a foreign language, Sergeant Tian Cheng immediately became nervous.
Such a beautiful woman, could she also be a prostitute?
It's not impossible that the plot follows the same formula as Mission Impossible.
Shen Wanjun sighed, "Chief Tian doesn't believe me?"
She then pulled out another newspaper, which reported on Shen Wanjun's role as a personal translator for a high-ranking official in Shanghai.
At the time, Shen Kun wanted to train Shen Wanjun and secretly facilitated this matter.
Although the original owner was gentle by nature, she was highly professional and not only completed the translation work perfectly, but also received praise from the then deputy mayor of Shanghai, who is now the mayor.
Train conductor Zhang excitedly grasped Shen Wanjun's hand, "Alright, alright, then thank you for your hard work, Comrade Shen Wanjun."
"It's not hard work, it's not hard work, it's just serving the people."
Shen Wanjun isn't really that great; her helping was just a momentary impulse.
Once she calmed down, she realized she had put herself in a very difficult situation, unable to move forward or backward, and now all she could do was pray that they caught that W quickly.
Dang Xianghong's mouth gaped open so wide it could fit two eggs. "Little sister, how are you so amazing? I can't even remember all the pinyin."
“But you can make sauerkraut, which I can’t. You’re really good at it,” Shen Wanjun said earnestly.
A person's ability is largely built up by money.
If Dang Xianghong had a wealthy family background, plenty of money and time, and access to renowned teachers, learning a foreign language would be a piece of cake.
Shen Wanjun used to not understand why the children of wealthy businessmen in China were all so outstanding, graduating from one prestigious university after another.
They're either starting this amazing company or acquiring that amazing company.
Now she understands: even someone with the original owner's personality could become a translator for Mayor Neng; with money and connections, there's nothing that can't be accomplished.
Is there anyone in Shanghai who is better at foreign languages than the original owner? Of course not.
Ability is important, but family background is even more important.
Those rich young ladies and gentlemen who stand in the spotlight can shine without much effort.
Ordinary people, however, are often buried in piles of stones, unable to shine or contribute their light.
Dang Xianghong's eyes reddened with excitement; she had thought pickling vegetables was an extremely ordinary thing.
She even assumed that every housewife should know how.
But Shen Wanjun said she was very capable, which made her feel a kind of joy of being affirmed that she had never experienced before.
"Hey little sister, I still have some left. I'll bring you a bottle later."
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it."
Seeing that the two were about to start chatting, Train Chief Zhang coughed.
"Comrade Shen Wanjun, the train will stop in the Northwest tomorrow morning, so we still have one day to catch Special Agent W."
With time running out and the task heavy, the group discussed the matter at the train's office desk for a long time.
By the time Shen Wanjun and Dang Xianghong returned to the private room, it was almost lunchtime.
"How's it going? Did you find the item?"
Why did you take so long?
The people in the private room crowded around, asking questions all at once.
Dang Xianghong shouted, "Everyone's lost items have been registered. It's only a matter of time before the thief is caught."
“We’re getting off the train tomorrow. What if we still haven’t found it by then?” one person asked.
Dang Xianghong said, "What should we do? What should we do? You ask me? Who should I ask?"
You're so talkative and incessant.
You just lost half a box of face cream, is it really that big of a deal?
Dang Xianghong was a calculating person, and she was preoccupied with her own toothbrush and toothpaste.
But what are these little things compared to the W-shaped weapon?
Without realizing it, she broadened her horizons.
Shen Wanjun smiled and comforted everyone: "We must trust Train Captain Zhang and Sergeant Tian, and give them some time."
Seeing Shen Wanjun's amiable smile, without a trace of Dang Xianghong's fierce demeanor.
Compared to the two situations, it was much easier for people to accept what she said.
Keep looking; it would be best if you could find it.
If they couldn't find it, they had no choice but to accept their fate, since the item wasn't particularly valuable, but they were still a little annoyed.
Shen Wanjun and Dang Xianghong, one playing the bad cop and the other the good cop, successfully calmed the emotions of everyone in the private room.
At lunchtime, Dang Xianghong changed her stern demeanor and took out her pickled vegetables to share with everyone.
Shen Wanjun changed her clothes and transformed into a mobile cook.
She wore a navy blue double-breasted Lenin suit with gleaming gold buttons.
Her long, wavy hair was wrapped in a white triangular scarf folded into the shape of the Chinese character "工".
Shen Wanjun pushed the double-decker metal food cart, shuttling between the carriages.
The lower level of the dining car used coal stoves to heat water and keep it warm, while the upper level consisted of aluminum lunch boxes printed with the words "People's Railway," stacked into a tower shape.
Inside the bamboo basket, covered with a white gauze, were three kinds of steamed buns: black, yellow, and white.
There was also an enamel bucket for holding soup on the lower level.
The food cart was quite heavy, and Shen Wanjun gritted her teeth and pushed it forward, the wheels occasionally making a "creaking" sound.
When the crowd saw the food truck with the sign "Mobile Supply Vehicle" arrive, their reaction was rather indifferent.
A single train ticket costs a lot of money, so many people refrain from eating, or only eat the dry steamed buns and pickled vegetables they bring from home.
Of course, in any era there are both poor and rich people.
Many people, dressed neatly and cleanly, and whose homes clearly indicated they were well-fed and warmly clothed, lined up with money and tickets to buy food.
Shen Wanjun carefully checked the money and tickets, gently served the rice, and reminded everyone, "Be careful of the bumps, be careful not to get burned."
Meals on the train are divided into Class A meals, Class B meals, emergency meals, and meals for sick passengers.
The first-class meal, reserved for soft sleeper passengers, consisted of rice and braised tofu, and cost 0.4 yuan plus 0.5 jin of fine grain coupons.
The second-class meal was the mainstream choice for passengers in hard seats. It consisted of rice and stir-fried cabbage, and cost 0.25 yuan plus 0.3 jin of coarse grain coupons.
The emergency meal consists of steamed sweet potatoes and pickled shredded vegetables, priced at 0.1 yuan plus 0.1 jin of grain coupons, mainly to be provided when train delays exceed 6 hours.
The last meal for patients was noodle soup, priced at 0.15 yuan plus 0.2 jin of fine grain coupons.
Emergency meals and meals for sick patients are rarely bought; Shen Wanjun sells mostly Class A and Class B meals.
The food was almost sold out, but Shen Wanjun still hadn't seen any suspicious people. She was getting a little anxious. Could that person be hiding and not eating?
No way! People need food to survive; you'll get hungry if you skip a meal.
Anyone who frequently works as a special agent knows that this job is not only mentally taxing but also physically demanding.
Half an hour later, both the Class A and Class B meals were sold out, and Shen Wanjun began collecting the lunchboxes.
The meal boxes on the train are only for passengers to eat; after eating, they need to be collected and sent to the kitchen for cleaning.
Shen Wanjun paced back and forth, her legs starting to ache.
Sure enough, her fragile body isn't suited for working.
Fortunately, all the lunchboxes have been recycled, and now she just needs to send them for washing, and her job is done.
As for what to do next, that depends on how Chief Inspector Tian Cheng arranges it.
As Shen Wanjun pushed the food cart to the junction of the carriages, a man suddenly chased after her from behind and asked, "Is there any food left?"
"Only meals for patients are available now," Shen Wanjun said without turning her head.
"Give me one then." The man swallowed hard; his lips were chapped, clearly indicating he was both hungry and thirsty.
"Comrade, could you please provide a medical certificate from the infirmary?"
Shen Wanjun was in a hurry to return the lunchbox, but the aisle was narrow and crowded, so she couldn't even turn around and could only speak with her back to the man.
"I don't have it, but you can't refuse to give it to me," the man said in a low voice.
Shen Wanjun felt something hard pressing against her waist; she guessed it was either a black shell or a knife.
Fear gripped her, a chill ran down her spine, and her mind went blank for a moment.
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