Chapter 786

At this time, grain processing machines already had the function of removing the outer skin of the grain, and apart from that, the remaining function was pulverization, which required being pulverized twice to be effective.

The reason for this was that the pulverizers of this era were not very advanced and could not completely grind grain into flour.

With the skin-removing function, cornmeal for human consumption definitely needed to be skinned before being pulverized.

Only flour ground in this way was proper flour that wouldn't prick the throat when eaten.

However, the corn skins removed wouldn't be thrown away, because this stuff was still excellent feed for livestock.

At this moment in the processing plant, there wasn't a single person there to process grain, and all the machines in the entire plant were in an idle state.

The owner of the processing plant and a few workers were listlessly wiping down the machines in the plant.

It was evident that in this era, the vast majority of people would rather push a millstone than spend those few cents on processing fees.

Seeing Wang An pull a cart of grain over, the processing plant owner immediately came up to greet him, and with a face full of smiles, said to Wang An:

"Little brother, here for processing? Is it skinning or flour grinding?"

It had to be said, this was the difference between private and public ownership; one had to know that before the processing plant was contracted out, the people there were all arrogant, with an attitude of "take it or leave it."

But now that it had been contracted out, the owner was even more affectionate to those coming for processing than he would be to his own father.

Wang An asked with a chuckle:

"Yeah, both need to be done. How do you calculate the cost here? Do you check the bags or weigh it by the jin?"

In Wang An's memory, the processing fee in this era wasn't expensive; normally, for 100 jin of grain, the processing fee was about one dime.

Of course, if it was less than 100 jin or ten or twenty jin more, it seemed it was still calculated as one dime.

That's how it was in the Northeast; no matter what business was being done, "close enough" was fine, and they wouldn't be as calculating as people in the South.

Upon hearing this, the owner looked at Wang An's cart of grain, pointed at the grain with his chin, and said with eyes shining:

"Little brother, are you grinding all of this cart? How many jin is it in total?"

Wang An laughed:

"About that. Keep 1,000 jin of black beans, and for the remaining 4,000 jin of corn, 1,000 jin of wheat, and 1,000 jin of black beans, grind them all into powder. Oh right, the cornmeal is for people to eat, so it must be skinned."

The owner muttered to himself for a long time before saying:

"6,000 jin, right? Skinning that stuff is extra work. How about you give me 10 yuan, and then you don't have to worry about anything else. Little brother, what do you think?"

Given Wang An's habits, he originally wanted to haggle, but after thinking about it, he said again:

"10 yuan is fine, but you'll have to go to the trouble of skinning 200 jin of black beans for me too, so I can make tofu with the dregs. Do you think that's doable?"

Wang An's request wasn't excessive, and the owner thought for a moment before agreeing with a full smile:

"Sure, brother, you're straightforward, so I can't be stingy either. That's settled. Where are your flour bags? What are you going to put the flour in?"

Wang An slapped his forehead, suddenly feeling that he hadn't considered things carefully; he had only thought about saving trouble and hadn't prepared everything.

Gunny sacks were fine for holding grain, but they wouldn't work for the processed flour. Thus, Wang An said to the owner:

"Alright, you start the machines first, and I'll go buy some flour bags." Just as Wang An was about to leave after speaking, the owner hurriedly said:

"Little brother, it's not close to the supply and marketing cooperative from here. Why don't you ride my beat-up bicycle?"

As he spoke, the owner pointed with his finger to a bicycle not far away.

It had to be said, the owner was absolutely right; the bicycle was truly as beat-up as could be.

Not only were the front and rear fenders gone, but the chain guard was gone, the kickstand was gone, and even the brakes had been removed. Fortunately, the rear rack was still there, otherwise Wang An wouldn't have known how to carry the stuff back on this thing.

Fortunately, the bicycle still had pedals, although only two iron rods remained, and as for the seat, it was clearly replaced by a wooden board.

After looking at the bicycle, Wang An asked with a face full of surprise: "Big brother, how did you ride this bike into such a state? Damn, did you pick this up from a scrap heap? If you don't have some skill, wouldn't you ride it straight into a ditch?"

Upon hearing this, the owner scratched his head in embarrassment and said:

"Don't even mention it. This was a perfectly good bike, but after it was stolen last time, it was already in this state by the time the police found it for me. Even getting it back took a hell of a lot of effort; otherwise, I wouldn't have found it at all."

When Wang An heard this, he was instantly stunned, and at the same time, he understood what had happened.

Clearly, the thief couldn't sell the stolen bicycle easily, so they dismantled it into this pathetic state to sell the parts.

One had to admit, this damn thief was truly a bastard.

Subconsciously, Wang An said:

"Did you catch this bastard thief? If you catch him, you have to break his legs. Why is he such a piece of trash?"

The owner smiled bitterly: "Caught him, but we don't know where those parts were sold. Damn it, it's truly infuriating."

Pushing the bicycle over, he lifted his leg and rode onto it, then said to the processing plant owner:

"Alright then, big brother, we'll chat when I get back. Thanks, big brother."

The owner offered a polite remark, and Wang An awkwardly rode the beat-up bicycle toward the supply and marketing cooperative.

It had to be said, even if the bike was beat-up, riding it was much faster than walking.

A few minutes later, Wang An arrived at the supply and marketing cooperative. Since the bicycle didn't have a kickstand, Wang An leaned it against the entrance. Scanning left and right, he felt that no one would steal this beat-up bike, so he walked into the cooperative.

In this era, the status of a bicycle was no less than that of a car in later generations, and there was a serial number stamped on the frame, so stolen bicycles were very difficult to trade.

Even for scrap, scrap collectors didn't dare accept bicycle iron because it was like railroad tracks—it was considered contraband, which meant that stealing this stuff only allowed for dismantling parts to sell.

And the processing plant owner's beat-up bicycle had nothing left to dismantle, which is why Wang An wasn't worried about it being stolen.

Arriving at the cooperative, Wang An bought 90 flour bags that could hold 50 jin each in one go, because according to the ratio of grain to flour, 5,000 jin of grain would yield about 3,500 jin of flour, and 1,000 jin of black beans would still yield 1,000 jin of bean powder, so 90 flour bags were more than enough.

Small flour bags were one dime for two, but a 50-jin flour bag was one dime each, so it cost Wang An another 9 yuan.

This was only because Wang An was wealthy and generous; otherwise, just buying flour bags would have exhausted a family's money.

Don't believe it? People in this era really had no money in their hands! He originally wanted to buy cigarettes, but the bicycle couldn't carry them at all, so Wang An had no choice but to ride the beat-up bicycle away.

(End of chapter)