Wang Qiqi had steeled himself long ago. These days, he'd been recruiting people nonstop. Besides rallying former residents, he also pulled in many of the newly settled and made who-knows-how many promises.
For this sudden contender who had managed to register and qualify for the Distribution Director race, no one really favored Wang Qiqi. Look at Zhao Shupi. Without recruiting at all, Zhao Shupi could draw plenty of votes just by handing out batter.
Jing Shu was surprised, yet it fit. Last year, when they organized recovery runs outside, Wang Qiqi took triple shares and saved some. Borrow a bit more, and he scraped together this much. In ordinary eyes, that was a small fortune.
But what could 500 virtual coins do? It only bought 250 bowls of white rice at once, and Banana Community had tens of thousands of people. How could that ever be enough?
Well… after the last incident, Third Aunt Jing opened a new big-pot kitchen here and successfully became a supermarket director. Every day, she oversaw the front hall, the kitchen, and the serving line.
Of course, white rice distribution was now under government control.
Besides Third Aunt's director post, two other supermarket directors from flooded stores were reassigned. Banana Community's kitchens were split into the Ai Jia cafeteria, the Patriotic cafeteria, and the Love-to-Laugh cafeteria. Above them, a manager was installed to supervise all three big-pot canteens in Banana Community.
In short, Third Aunt's authority was divided. She handled only ordinary residents now, not civil servants, though with the head count multiplied several times over, she still had clout.
If Jing Shu asked for help within reasonable costs, it could be done. She blinked, and a plan took shape. Most importantly, the three cafeterias were quietly competing. They compared daily revenue and rolled out new dishes every day, each vying to be top dog.
Zhao Shupi advertised through the Patriotic cafeteria, which was packed from open to close.
So helping Third Aunt boost foot traffic sounded like a good idea too.
Back to the point. What could 500 coins do? Someone as flashy as Zhao Shupi might throw in several thousand. That was naked vote-buying with virtual coins.
Jing Shu narrowed her eyes, recalling a famous dish: Pan-Seared Mushrooms with Eggs.
You wipe a thin film of oil on the pan, lay down torn strips of mushroom with the eggs clinging to them, and sear over low heat. Once the moisture cooks out and the pieces turn golden, the roasted eggs release a distinctive meaty aroma. Finish with a dusting of chili powder and salt. The fragrance makes you swallow your tongue.
The mushroom's chew and the eggs' popping burst, crisp right to the core. One bite goes crackle-snap. Add a pinch of chili, the apocalypse luxury, to chase the damp chill on rainy days. Nothing better.
Next day.
"Whoa, where's that fried-meat smell coming from?"
"Go look. The Ai Jia cafeteria has a new dish, Pan-Seared Mushrooms with Eggs. It smells amazing!"
"Must be pricey. I can't afford it."
"It's free. The Ai Jia cafeteria is giving it away. Limited portions!"
Right at mealtime, a long line formed at the Ai Jia cafeteria's door. The aroma drew them in, and the word free sealed it.
Wang Qiqi stood with a loudhailer, announcing the rules. Anyone who cast a vote received a serving of Pan-Seared Mushrooms with Eggs. Since each person only had one ballot, those who had already voted for Zhao Shupi had to buy theirs.
And nearly everyone who tasted one free portion then went back to buy another for 0.5 coins, which in turn boosted the Ai Jia cafeteria's sales.
Jing Shu scratched her nose. Honestly, she really did want to help Wang Qiqi win the Distribution Director post, and she wanted to help Third Aunt build momentum.
But somehow, Jing Shu ended up earning both of them 1,000 coins.
Ahem.
That covered their ingredient costs. Jing Shu sold a few dozen jin (about 15 to 20 kilograms) of last year's chili powder, and the oil came from several big buckets of leftover lard at home.
Whenever they made red-braised pork or trimmed fatty cuts, they rendered fat and saved it, so they had lots. For daily cooking, the family used vegetable oils like peanut oil and rapeseed oil. The lard just sat there.
Grandma Jing had been wondering how to use it up. Who knew it would turn into 1,000 virtual coins.
So this round, aside from Jing Shu's chili powder, the lard, and a bit of salt, there were essentially no costs. Labor did not count. In truth, brushing on a little oil and shaking on some salt cost far less than Zhao Shupi's batter, which was real flour, real grain.
The key was that Pan-Seared Mushrooms with Eggs tasted fantastic and won rave reviews. One bite made you crave another. Lately, people had a little cash on hand from salvage work or from collecting maggots outside to exchange for coins.
In the early phase, you could walk out anywhere, pick up scrap, and if it was on the list, you could trade it for coins. So folks were willing to spend 0.5 on a dish.
Wang Qiqi vaulted into the top three, right behind Zhao Shupi, becoming a hot contender. Everyone was curious about this dark horse.
Credit where due, Wang Qiqi had done his homework. He spread the story of his past exploits: a Banana Community native who had once led people to earn a huge sum in virtual coins, who had helped the community eat and drink well, and who had ties to a certain big shot in the villas. That big shot was supposedly incredibly powerful, and this time that very big shot was the sponsor.
In short, the image was set. Wang Qiqi looked connected and capable of delivering real benefits.
Jing Shu thought, "Wait, am I the big shot in that story?"
Speaking of big shots, Jing Shu had new plans for the year.
If the first year had been about lifting the whole family into comfort, then this year Jing Shu planned to start capital accumulation. Ahem. Put plainly, get rich. And secure enough power to protect that wealth.
This would be one of the steadier years in the ten-year apocalypse. Money velocity would be highest now. Later, once the mass exodus began and people scattered east and west, currency would crawl.
Jing Shu had already taken the first step. This year she had to reach at least vice president at the Medicinal Herb Association, wielding enough authority that no random cat or dog could step on her family.
As for her family, they were not dragging her back. If Su Lanzhi could climb another rung as director, that would be best. If Jing An could become a supervisor at the Livestock Breeding Center, that would be impressive too.
Second step, earn more coins. There were many places to spend.
Jing Shu had hoped to make money off blood mushrooms, but the two roots left after soup-making were still sitting in the fields of the Rubik's Cube Space. Nothing had sprouted. She felt a twinge of regret. Could even the Rubik's Cube Space fail to raise blood mushrooms? Or was the method wrong?
On the day of Yang Yang's grandfather's birthday, inspiration struck Jing Shu like lightning.