The rice water was translucent, as white and silky smooth as milk.
There wasn't a speck of foam on top; it was as clean as if it had been filtered through a special container.
Perfectly uniform grains of rice floated in the milky broth.
Wu Jun took a small sip, and his eyebrows nearly danced with excitement.
Gazing at the bowl of congee, which was a feast for the senses, Wu Jun felt as if he were admiring a work of art.
"Did I really make this congee?" Wu Jun could hardly believe he was capable of creating such a top-tier delicacy!
A bowl of the simplest possible white rice congee radiated an endless charm!
Wu Jun's appetite surged. He downed three whole bowls of the white rice congee, straight-up, without even any pickled side dishes.
'Pickled vegetables aren't even worthy of my congee anymore,' Wu Jun thought.
Eating pickled vegetables with his congee would be like smearing shit on a masterpiece!
Although it was a disgusting thought to have while eating, he felt no other metaphor was more fitting.
After finishing the congee, Wu Jun washed the bowl and pot. He then painstakingly hauled a burlap sack of rice produced by the game out of his bedroom and placed it next to the supermarket's shelf for rice, flour, and cooking oil.
Once he was done, Wu Jun sat back down in his boss's chair. A smile spread across his face as he imagined his rice flying off the shelves.
He had taste-tested the rice from the game, and now he had a more precise idea of how to price it.
On the market, regular rice sold for about three yuan a jin, premium rice for five yuan, and then there were even higher grades like "special reserve" and so on.
The most expensive domestic rice was a variety called "Duck-Paddy Rice" from the Wuchang Rice series. Marketed with the gimmick of ducks and rice coexisting in a natural, green, and pollution-free environment, it sold for over twenty yuan a jin—the absolute Louis Vuitton of rice.
Although Wu Jun had never tasted "Duck-Paddy Rice," he was very confident in the rice produced by the [Resource Tycoon] game and believed it couldn't be much worse.
However, that brand had two things going for it: a big name and massive spending on ads and promotions. Even though his own rice was top-quality with a first-class taste, selling it at that price would be no small feat.
Besides, rice that cost over twenty yuan a jin would undoubtedly shut out the average person. It was only suitable for a high-end strategy: low volume, high quality, and high price.
He recalled one of the conditions for leveling up in the game: sell 10,000 tons of game-produced rice.
Wu Jun immediately rejected the idea of going the high-end route.
The average salary for a resident of Shimen City was just over 3,000 yuan. Only a minority would be willing to buy such high-end rice.
Twenty yuan could buy enough meat for a meal of braised pork—of course, that was before pork prices skyrocketed.
'Selling it too cheap would be a waste, but selling it too high would hurt sales. I'll just set it at a mid-range price, not too high and not too low.' After mulling it over, Wu Jun finally decided to price his rice at the same level as the market's premium rice: five yuan a jin.
The game could now produce four tons of rice a day, which was 8,000 jin. If he sold it all, that would be a net income of 40,000 yuan a day!
A single day's income could match the annual salary of an average worker in Shimen City. That rate of earning money was insane enough to shock anyone who heard it!
Wu Jun wasn't that greedy; he was already very satisfied with this potential income.
The morning passed in the blink of an eye.
Wu Jun slumped back into his boss's chair behind the counter, his eyes vacant. He was a little dumbfounded.
'This isn't how I imagined things would go…'
The whole morning had passed, and he hadn't sold a single jin of rice!
'Don't people eat rice anymore?'
'I guess I was too optimistic…'
After lunch, Wu Jun reflected on his painful experience and finally figured out where he had gone wrong.
The promotion part was missing!
Even a great product needs good marketing.
Nowadays, even sanitary pads were advertised all over television.
It was obviously impossible for him to just sit here and wait for customers to come in and buy rice.
And he certainly couldn't be like the comedian Huang Hong in that old skit, pushing a bicycle through the streets and alleys yelling, "Getcher rice! Getcher rice! Getcher rice..."
'I only knew how special the rice was after I tried it myself. Chinese people value trying before buying. Since the rice doesn't cost me anything anyway, I might as well let everyone have a taste first.'
Putting his thoughts into action, Wu Jun hung a small sign on the door that read, "Stepped out on business. Temporarily closed."
He scanned a yellow share-bike and rode out. At a nearby wholesale market for small goods, he spent over a hundred yuan on a large pack of small, resealable plastic bags.
Back at the small supermarket, Wu Jun didn't open for business right away. With the door still closed, he began portioning the rice from the game into small bags.
Each bag was filled with exactly three small scoops, weighing about half a jin—just enough for a family of four to have a meal of steamed rice.
It took him over half an hour to fill more than 200 small packets. Only then did he reopen the store for business.
"Little Wu, I'm grabbing a pack of toilet paper." Not long after he opened, a regular customer, Auntie Xu, came in. Her full name was Xu Minli, and she was from Wu Jun's hometown. When the supermarket first opened, she had helped bring in a lot of customers.
Xu Minli greeted Wu Jun and walked straight to the small room in the back where the household goods were kept, emerging with a large pack of toilet paper.
Wu Jun took a fifty-yuan bill and gave her fifteen yuan in change.
Xu Minli took the change and was about to leave when Wu Jun called out to her.
"Auntie, no need to rush off," Wu Jun said with a smile, holding out a few of the small, pre-packaged bags of rice. "This is a new brand of rice I'm carrying. Take these bags home and give it a try."
"Oh, if you hadn't mentioned it, I would have almost forgotten! We're just about out of rice at home. In that case, I'll give it a try. If it's good, I'll come back to buy some tomorrow." Xu Minli reached out, took the rice, thanked Wu Jun, and turned to leave.
"Auntie Wang, try my new brand of rice. This bag is free, a complimentary sample."
"It's free! Little Wu, then give me another bag. Your uncle is a big eater; one bag won't be enough."
"Alright, here you go. If you like it, come back and buy more."
"Brother Li..."
From the afternoon opening until closing time at night, Wu Jun gave rice to everyone he saw. Even someone who came in just to buy a 50-cent popsicle would get a small bag of rice.
News of the free rice spread like wildfire. The foot traffic in the small supermarket was noticeably higher than usual; everyone was there for the free rice.
The 200-plus sample packs were gone in no time, so Wu Jun quickly packed another 100 bags.
By the time he closed up for the night, not a single bag was left. They had all been given away.
Among them, a few who were fond of petty handouts had come back for a second bag.
Even more outrageous was one auntie who came back and forth to get five bags.
Although Wu Jun didn't have a photographic memory, he definitely remembered that auntie.
However, he couldn't bring himself to argue with an old woman. During the sampling phase, her few extra bags didn't matter.
'What she took for free today, I'll earn back from her another day.'
Wu Jun was confident that once people tasted his rice, he would attract a huge number of repeat customers.
The more they ate, the greater the chance they would come back to buy more.
That night, the game produced another four tons of rice.
Wu Jun couldn't be bothered to take it out. There was no place to put it, so he just left it in the game's warehouse.
Last night, he had been gleefully dreaming of earning tens of thousands a day. Today, he hadn't sold a single grain, and reality had slapped him hard in the face.
Lying in bed, Wu Jun tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He had insomnia.
There were only twenty-seven days left until his father's second craniotomy.
Right now, the money he had on hand, all told, was just over 2,000 yuan.
'When will I ever be able to scrape together the remaining 80,000 yuan!'
He pulled the covers over his head, trying hard not to think about the surgery fees. Only then did Wu Jun manage to drift off into a hazy sleep.