Chapter 340

Xu Damao's "cafeteria supervision" performance was like a stone dropped into the deep water of the Steel Rolling Mill—little splash, but ripples spread in circles to places they shouldn't reach.

Li Huaide sat behind his desk, twirling a Golden Star fountain pen in his hand, and when the secretary whispered the cafeteria incident, the corner of his mouth twitched imperceptibly.

Xu Damao's dog barked quite loudly. Fine, let Yang Weiguo's side scramble first. He waved the secretary away, his gaze fixed on the gray, hazy sky outside. In a struggle, someone has to be the first to tear off the mask.

Xu Damao was now walking down the second‑floor corridor leading to the cafeteria.

He had walked this corridor countless times, but today it felt especially different. The cement floor seemed firmer, the red-painted slogan "Seize Revolution, Promote Production" on the walls appeared brighter, and even the coal‑smoke drifting from the boiler room carried a whiff of triumph.

In the folder tucked under his arm, the notice demanding Sha Zhu to "provide a written explanation and rectify" had already been stamped with the Supervision Team's rubber seal—though that seal was a makeshift one that he had gotten Xiao Liu to grind and harden himself.

"'He Yuzhu, He Yuzhu,'" Xu Damao thought with a bubbling delight, his steps lightening a bit, "you'll have your day too."

He seemed to already picture Sha Zhu's black face turned the color of pork liver, see the back‑kitchen staff daring to be angry but unable to speak, see Li patting his shoulder approvingly… The future, like the light streaming in from the end of the corridor, was bright and clear!

Footsteps echoed from the corner of the corridor.

Xu Damao instantly straightened his back, his smugness quickly fading, and adopted a solemn, earnest, nation‑and‑factory‑concerned expression. The newcomer was Lao Wang from the Logistics Department, holding a stack of documents.

"Director Wang," Xu Damao nodded proactively, his voice neither high nor low, carrying a bureaucratic vigor.

Lao Wang gave him a glance, his eyes a bit complicated, hummed in response, and as they brushed past, lowered his voice and said quickly, "Damao, that's enough; the menu has already been approved by the plant office."

Xu Damao felt a jolt in his chest, but his face remained unchanged; he even raised his voice slightly: "Director Wang, supervision work is for the good of the plant; problems must be corrected, that's my duty." His voice echoed faintly in the corridor.

Lao Wang shook his head, said nothing more, and left.

Xu Damao watched his back, the nervousness in his heart quickly suppressed by a surge of resolve. Lao Wang was on Yang Weiguo's side, and his attitude precisely showed that Xu had hit a sore spot! What's there to fear? Behind him now stood Deputy Director Li!

At the back‑kitchen doorway of the cafeteria, the familiar blend of oil smoke, food aromas, and damp steam hit his nose.

Normally Xu Damao would have pinched his nose, but today he felt the scent carried a sense of familiarity—this was his battlefield.

Inside, the clanging sounds were a bit quieter than usual.

Xu Damao deliberately paused at the doorway, cleared his throat, and then pulled aside the greasy cotton curtain.

In the back kitchen, the atmosphere was as heavy as a pot of overcooked porridge.

Sha Zhu stood before the big stove, his large iron ladle rhythmically tapping the pot rim, producing a monotonous "clang, clang." He wore no apron, just the faded blue work uniform, buttons fastened up to his neck, his whole body taut like a fully drawn bowstring.

Ma Hua and several other helpers kept their heads down, working, deliberately softening the sounds of chopping and scrubbing, while their eyes kept glancing toward the doorway.

When Xu Damao entered, all the sounds paused for a heartbeat.

"Comrade He Yuzhu," Xu Damao began, still in the same tone, but his confidence seemed stronger, "the Supervision Team's official notice."

He opened the folder, pulled out the notice stamped with the red seal, but instead of handing it over, he held it aloft like a flag.

Sha Zhu slowly turned, the blood vessels in their eyes not yet fully faded, their gaze at Xu Damao like looking at a piece of foul dog excrement stuck to a shoe sole. They said nothing, just stared.

Xu Damao felt a chill under Sha Zhu's stare, but the arrow was already on the string, he had to act. He stepped forward and placed the notice on a relatively clean side‑dish table beside him: "Regarding the menu issues discovered in yesterday's inspection, the Supervision Team has studied the matter and now formally requires cafeteria head He Yuzhu to submit a written explanation within two days and to rectify the menu, cutting unnecessary expenses to reflect a spirit of thrift and economy. Specific rectification suggestions are attached to the notice."

He spoke each word deliberately, ensuring everyone heard clearly.

Sha Zhu finally moved. He set down the iron ladle, walked to the side‑dish table, didn't even glance at the notice, and stared at Xu Damao: "Xu Damao, do you know what the brother unit coming for the banquet the day after tomorrow is here to do?"

Xu Damao was taken aback; the question was unexpected: "Isn't it… a visit for learning?"

"A visit for learning?" Sha Zhu sneered, his laugh like sandpaper on an iron pot. "The Tianjin Guard came—senior masters and technicians in steel‑rolling equipment! They're here to help us fix that old Old Maozi machine's jam problem! Yang Changzhang personally invited them, and the Logistics Department reminded us repeatedly to treat them well, to let them feel our sincerity and enthusiasm!"

With each sentence, he stepped forward, and Xu Damao involuntarily stepped back.

"Braised lion's head—those Tianjin masters love that hearty dish; steamed sea bass, for freshness, symbolizing 'fish leaping over the dragon gate,' wishing a smooth breakthrough; fruit platter, to cleanse the palate after the meal, showing thoughtfulness."

Sha Zhu's voice grew louder, like a rolling thunder in the back kitchen, "You want me to change it to cabbage stewed with vermicelli? Xu Damao, are you trying to freeze them out, or to wreck this technical breakthrough? Huh?"

The final "huh" roared from deep in his throat, shaking the dust off the ceiling beams so it fell in clumps.

Xu Damao's face flushed red then turned pale; how could he know these details? He only thought of assigning blame and finding fault. Yet he could not show fear, forcing himself to say, "This… this cannot be an excuse for extravagance! Technical exchange focuses on ideas, not on food and drink!"

"Screw your mother's stinky fart!" Sha Zhu erupted fully, slapping the side‑dish table so hard the notice jumped up, "Ideas? Xu Damao, is there anything in your head besides scheming and flattering? Without solid food as a base, without making them comfortable, who will pour their heart out to solve the technical problem? Relying on your empty talk?"

He snatched the notice, didn't even look at it, and with a "shhh—" sound tore it in two, then tore again, the fragments striking Xu Damao's face like snowflakes.

"Go back and tell the people who sent you," Sha Zhu pointed at Xu Damao's nose, his finger trembling from the force, "I, He Yuzhu, will set the banquet! Stick to the original menu! If you're brave, have them come to the cafeteria, stand at this stove and tell me to change the dishes! Let's see if they have the nerve!"

The back kitchen fell silent. Ma Hua and the others' eyes lit up, holding their breath, chests rising.

Xu Damao was completely overwhelmed by the shredded paper and Sha Zhu's imposing presence. He hadn't expected Sha Zhu to be so tough, so overbearing, nor that a banquet could hide so many twists. His previously lofty excuses, in the face of Sha Zhu's tirade mixing practical logic with sky‑splitting anger, appeared utterly pale and laughable.

His lips trembled, wanting to utter something to save face, yet not a single word emerged. His face burned hot, as if truly cut by the paper shards. The glances of the surrounding helpers pierced him like needles.

"You… you wait! You're openly defying supervision! Defying the plant's decision!" Xu Damao shouted, his tone fierce yet cowardly, and turned, practically fleeing the back kitchen. The curtain was slammed violently, shaking wildly.

Bursting out of the cafeteria into the open courtyard, the cold wind brushed him, and Xu Damao finally felt his breathing ease a bit. Yet his heart sank to the bottom of a valley.

It's over; this matter is ruined.

Sha Zhu not only didn't back down, but also gave a hard blow to him and the Deputy Director Li behind him. If that justification about technical breakthroughs and the necessity of the banquet spread through the plant… Xu Damao shivered.

He realized he might have poked a hornet's nest, one that linked not only Sha Zhu but also Yang Changzhang and even the plant's critical machine in urgent need of repair.

His ambition to climb using a favorable wind suddenly seemed filthy and ill‑timed in the face of concrete production tasks.

What to do? Go straight to Deputy Director Li to report? Say Sha Zhu tore the notice and cursed back? How would Li view him? A useless person who can't even control a cook?

Xu Damao, dejected, walked toward the Publicity Department; the lightness and pride he had upon arrival had long vanished, leaving only cold sweat on his back and a mind full of dread.

He felt like a clown hopping on stage, thinking he'd won applause, while the audience below only saw his joke.

And at this moment, the back kitchen, after a brief silence, burst into low‑voiced cheers.

"Master, that was so satisfying!" Ma Hua's face flushed with excitement.

Sha Zhu, however, wasn't that thrilled; he bent down, picking up the shredded paper bits piece by piece, tossing them into the broken iron trash can beside the stove. The flames rose, quickly devouring the paper, turning it into a few wisps of blue smoke.

"Vent­ing is useless," Sha Zhu straightened, his face expressionless, "Xu Damao is just a petty troublemaker. The real trouble lies ahead."

He re‑tied the oil‑stained, twisted‑braid apron, lifted the big iron ladle, and clanged it twice in the pot, the sound rattling the roof tiles: "Why just stand there? Get the work in your hands done efficiently! The banquet the day after tomorrow, give it your full twelve‑point effort! If done well, it's the face of our cafeteria; if botched, it'll be a joke that pleases some people!"

"Understood, Master!" the others shouted in unison, and the back kitchen instantly burst again with lively, brisk work noises. The chopping sounded like a sudden rain, the scrubbing roared like flowing water, and the stove fire blazed loudly.

Sha Zhu stood before the stove, watching the steam rise gradually from the pot, his gaze heavy. He knew the clash with Xu Damao was only surface; the real struggle lay higher up. This cafeteria's obstruction was like a test stone, revealing how swift the hidden currents beneath the water were.

He weighed the ladle in his hand, a trusty companion of over a decade, heavy. The stove was his battlefield, pots and pans his weapons. If anyone tried to bring the flames here, this "fire‑head army" would not shy from a hard fight.

Only unknown is how Yang Changzhang will react upon learning of today's incident—will he smooth things over, or…

Xu Damao returned to the Propaganda Section's office, thick with the smell of film stock and dust, slumped into his chair and stayed still for ages. He stared at the movie poster of "Lenin in October" on the wall, his mind a tangled knot.

The turmoil had not subsided; it was silently spreading through unseen ducts, searching for the next breakthrough. The shredded paper in the cafeteria sounded like a slightly hoarse opening gong, heralding that behind the curtain the real drama was about to begin.