Chu Bai, a senior engineer at a military food factory, died suddenly while working overtime. When he opened his eyes, he traveled through time and became Zhu Bai, the fifteen-year-old twelfth prince of the Ming Dynasty.
She had just fallen into a coma for three days because she was naughty and fell off the rockery of Fengtian Temple. When she woke up, her mother Hu Shunfei cried so much that her eyes were swollen to walnuts.
But what he has in mind is a complete set of modern military fast food and food preservation technology.
It was the cold winter in Mobei, and the food routes for the 200,000 Northern Expedition troops on the front line were cut off by a snowstorm. Countless soldiers froze to death and starved to death.
Chu Bai took out a box of "Spicy Beef Self-heating Hot Pot" that he had made on the spot and poured a handful of cold snow into it in front of all the civil and military officials.
"Stab!" White smoke billowed out, and the overbearing aroma of butter and Sichuan peppercorns instantly swept through the entire hall.
Zhu Yuanzhang grabbed the bowl and was so hot that he grinned and couldn't bear to vomit. General Xu Da knelt down and cried bitterly after finishing the soup base. Lan Yu carried the mutton over the wall and entered the palace overnight: "Master Twelve, can I make two more pots of this divine hot pot tomorrow morning?"
While the civil servants were still wrangling over the nine-sided military expenditure, Chu Bai had already filled the Ming army's logistics with self-heating military rations, compressed dry rations and dehydrated vegetables.
While Mrs. Lu was still planning for Zhu Yunwen to become the crown prince, Chu Bai's canneries, refined salt bureaus, and assembly line workshops had opened all over the country, moving boxes of silver into the treasury.
Self-immolation and sacrifice for the country? It's impossible in this life.
Zhu Yuanzhang held the self-heating pot in one hand and held Chu Bai in the other. He turned around and grinned wildly at the civil and military officials: "Our twelfth son is the greatest auspiciousness and god of wealth in the Ming Dynasty!"
Prince Zhu Biao wiped his grease mouth and nodded desperately: "Father is right, the fifth brother is responsible for fighting, and the twelfth brother is responsible for cooking and making money. The weather will be stable tomorrow!"]
