The military food crisis (Part 3)
The instructions were issued one by one, swiftly and efficiently.
Just as Zhiwei was about to relax after the crisis was resolved, she suddenly met Zhu Liji's gaze again.
His gaze was indifferent, as if looking at an ant, yet it carried a condescending scrutiny, as if assessing the value of a tool.
Before leaving, "Young Lady" Li Mingjing turned back, her tone somewhat cautious, "How could you have detected the poison in the flour?"
Zhiwei was taken aback, then recalled the Lingnan Salt Case, which almost cost Manager Liu his life and nearly cost her her own.
Zhiwei subconsciously looked at Zhu Liji, but the other party did not react. Zhiwei pursed her lips, unwilling to say more, and only said: "I met him in Lingnan, and I know a little bit about him."
"Skimming?" Zhu Liji's lips curled into a very faint smile, as if mocking, or simply disbelieving. "To be able to tell at a glance that the flour is not right, and to know that arsenic will bubble when it comes into contact with acid, this kind of 'skimming' is even more refined than that of the old military doctors."
These words sounded like a compliment, but combined with his tone and gaze, Zhiwei felt as if she were being pricked by needles. She stiffened her neck and said, "This humble woman dares not accept such praise; I merely happened to know."
Zhiwei hated the feeling of being interrogated like a criminal. She had clearly done a good job, but Zhu Liji was wary of her and didn't trust her. Anyone would find it boring.
Zhiwei leaned down, looked away, and said, "If the young marshal has any doubts, then go ahead and investigate."
Zhu Liji did not ask any further questions.
His piercing gaze lingered on Zhiwei's stubborn face for a moment before moving away.
At this moment, a general stepped forward, clasped his hands in greeting, and said, "Young Marshal, once this matter is exposed, the head of the kitchen will inevitably need to be replaced. However, the soldiers cannot be without food, and the brothers' meals still need to be arranged by a designated person..."
"Yes, this is a very important matter that cannot be delayed!" Li Mingjing agreed, sweating profusely.
"Alright." Zhu Liji turned his gaze to Zhiwei, his command leaving no room for argument: "You will be in charge of the kitchen for the time being to manage the current meals. In addition, not a single grain of flour in the storeroom is to be touched."
Zhiwei's heart sank, as if a boulder had struck her shoulder. Solve the problem of food? How could she possibly manage?
The kitchen was sealed off, the new flour was poisonous and unusable, and all that was left in the inventory were those old, rock-hard rations that the soldiers were already tired of eating.
She wanted to strike while the iron was hot and use her improved dry food biscuits to thoroughly humiliate Zhang Xingzhong in the competition, but now that plan was completely thwarted.
"Young Marshal!" Zhiwei said, forcing herself to speak. "The kitchen is closed, and the ingredients are limited. As for the food... Besides, today at noon was supposed to be the day of my competition with Zhang the Chef..." She was still trying to persuade him.
"A contest?"
Zhu Liji seemed to have heard some trivial joke, his gaze sweeping over her before landing on the sand table: "What time is it, and you're still thinking about these things?"
The nonchalant tone and indifferent attitude instantly ignited Zhiwei's anger.
Indeed, in Zhu Liji's eyes, his efforts and opportunities were nothing more than these insignificant "things".
“I wouldn’t dare!” Zhiwei’s voice suddenly rose, filled with anger at being slighted. “As a cook and a member of the army, I should be responsible for the meals, but…”
Zhiwei paused, took a deep breath, and finally spoke: "But, since I have taken on the responsibility of improving military rations, I should give an account! Besides, many of my brothers have been suffering from diarrhea for days. They are already weak, and how can they recover their strength by eating those hard, old biscuits? I..."
"If I have the capacity, I would also like to..."
"Enough." Zhu Liji interrupted her coldly. His voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable pressure that instantly silenced the tent.
"I'm giving you orders to provide meals. How you do it is your responsibility. If you don't do it well..." He paused, "if you don't do it well, you have no value, and if you have no value, you don't need to exist."
"As for the rest, it's your business if you want to do it."
“I only care about the results,” Zhu Liji said.
Is this a threat or a promise?
Zhiwei dared not reply, her nails digging deeply into her palms.
She felt a tightness in her chest, as if a ball of oil-soaked cotton was stuffed inside, making her feel suffocated and frustrated.
This damn class system, this damn tyranny! She painstakingly found the source of the poison, but instead of receiving a kind word, she was pushed into an even more difficult situation.
But she had no choice; she was now in a difficult situation. If she refused to do anything, she would most likely be silenced.
If she fails to accomplish anything, she will only face more criticism. But risk often means opportunity, and Zhiwei understands this very well.
Zhiwei suddenly looked up and met Zhu Liji's calm eyes, which clearly reflected her current dishevelment, anger, and resentment.
But besides the humiliation of being oppressed, there was also a sense of excitement that something big was about to happen.
Should we take the gamble? We have no choice.
"I obey your orders and will not fail you." Zhiwei practically spat out these words through gritted teeth, grabbed the dirty bowl of "evidence" from the table, and rushed out of the tent without looking back.
She seemed to hear voices of doubt behind her, mixed with Jiang Qin's low words of advice, but Zhiwei paid no attention to them.
——
Zhiwei returned to the temporary kitchen area, her anger still burning.
The kitchen was sealed off, the stove was cold and the pots were empty. Only baskets of old, dusty dry food cakes were piled up in the open space outside, along with a few wilted wild vegetables and a small basket of eggs that she had saved to nourish Shao Zhao.
An atmosphere of despair permeated the air.
The soldiers gathered around in twos and threes, their faces showing confusion and the anxiety of hunger.
Zhang Xingzhong crossed his arms, clearly having just learned of the accident, looking hesitant to speak, his eyes filled with sympathy.
"To be in charge." Zhiwei couldn't help but feel a chill down her spine when she didn't expect Zhang Xingzhong's first words to be so high-minded.
“Zhang Baozheng…” Zhiwei said weakly.
"No need to be so polite with me."
Zhang Xingzhong clasped his hands in a fist salute, his words less vulgar. He bowed to Zhiwei and said formally, "If it weren't for you, I'm afraid I would have regretted it for the rest of my life. I never imagined that my proud management would almost ruin the entire army..."
"Manager, please forgive my ignorant remarks." Old Zhang spoke with a firm look in his eyes, emphasizing the words "Manager" out of remorse.
"You have proven your ability. I, Zhang, concede defeat in this cooking competition."
"Wait a minute!" Zhiwei spoke up in time. "Ability is ability, and a competition is a competition. Zhang Baozheng, I know you feel bad about your previous mistakes and are worried that I might be distracted by the kitchen matter and affect the competition. I am very grateful to you, but this is not a reason for you to admit defeat to me. I also do not believe that you do not want to compete in the next round."
Zhiwei recalled Zhang Xingzhong, whom Sun Wei had mentioned—he had served in the army for over twenty years, including ten years in the mess hall. Behind his high reputation lay years of unwavering hard work, even though the food in the barracks was rather ordinary after all that hard work…
Well! In short, Zhiwei doesn't need this kind of pitying weakness. What Zhiwei needs is a fair and square competition. Zhang Zhongxing's approval alone is not enough; what's important is to convince everyone, especially that stinky, rotten, salted duck egg-like young marshal!
It would be best if one day I could make him kneel down and lick my shoes! Zhiwei punched the air.
Zhang Zhongxing was still staring at Zhiwei, and he saw that her face was sometimes angry and sometimes laughing for no reason. She was under too much pressure and couldn't even control her expressions.
He thought, "Even if this girl goes insane, it'll have to wait until this storm passes."
"Cough cough." Zhiwei's cough interrupted Zhang Xingzhong's thoughts.
"There's no need for gratitude. Zhang Baozheng, we're in imminent danger, let's work together for the army."
"That suits me perfectly." Zhang Xingzhong nodded. "Just let me know if you need anything!"
"Okay. But please continue the competition, and don't hold back."
Zhiwei ignored Zhang Xingzhong's remaining words. She walked around the crowd, went to the pile of old dried food biscuits, and picked one up casually.
Zhiwei tossed the cake in her hand; it was heavy and hard. When she broke it open, only a few crumbs fell out.
This stuff is hardly nutritious; you'd be lucky if it didn't break your teeth. For a soldier already suffering from diarrhea and weakness, it's like adding insult to injury.
No, that won't work...
The pressure snowballed, growing bigger and bigger, like a mountain pressing down on Zhiwei, making her head spin.
Zhiwei paced anxiously in circles, her gaze sweeping over the pile of despairing dry rations, then over the makeshift stove, and finally settling on the baskets of wild vegetables and a small basket of eggs…
Just then, Shao Zhao, who had been dragged away by Sun Wei, returned, clutching a vegetable-filled wrap in her hand. A vegetable wrap held in her hand? Wait, a thought flashed through Zhiwei's mind!
"I've got it!" Zhiwei slapped her thigh suddenly, her eyes shining brightly like two flames igniting in the darkness.
She turned abruptly, pointed at the pile of old rations, and yelled at the still-dazed Shao Zhao, "Shao Zhao! Find two strong brothers to smash all these rations into powder! The finer the better!"
Her voice carried a do-or-die determination and a hint of barely suppressed excitement.
She then shouted to Zhang Xingzhong, who had just finished making peace with her, "Zhang Paozheng, help start a fire. Set up all the pots and pans you can use, and find a few quick-handed brothers to help me wash and chop the wild vegetables, and beat all the eggs!"
Then, Zhiwei rolled up her sleeves, put her hands on her hips, and picked up the kitchen knife on the stove: "So what if there's no flour on hand? I can still make delicious food!"
Zhiwei's declaration carried a do-or-die, bold spirit, like a bucket of cold water poured into boiling oil, instantly igniting the somber atmosphere.
Although the soldiers were skeptical, seeing her composed demeanor and receiving Zhang Xingzhong's shouts, they instinctively sprang into action. After all, it was they who would go hungry.
The large stone mortar was quickly brought over.
Two burly soldiers swung heavy wooden mallets and smashed the dry rations in the basket with a loud "bang, bang."
The hard block of biscuit shattered into pieces under the heavy blow, sending crumbs flying.
Zhiwei personally poured the partially crushed cake pieces into a stone mortar and directed the soldiers to crush them little by little with a stone pestle.
The harsh sound of friction was incessant, and dry dust filled the air.
Ignoring her cough, Zhiwei personally took the fine sieve and sifted the coarse powder that had been ground out, again and again.
Sweat streamed down her forehead, mingling with flour dust and leaving comical marks on her face, but she didn't care, her gaze as focused as if she were performing a sacred ritual.
Several large cooking pots were placed on a makeshift stove, with flames blazing and licking the cold bottoms of the pots.
Zhiwei scooped up a large spoonful of solidified pork fat and dropped it into the pot. The fat sizzled and melted under the high temperature, releasing an enticing aroma.
She grabbed a handful of sifted dry food powder and threw it into the boiling oil without hesitation.
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