Sun Wenshi handed the contract he signed with Song Nianchu to Xiang Tianyi.
After reading it, Xiang Tianyi’s face flushed red, his eyes burning holes into the paper as if he wanted it to combust on the spot.
"Don’t you dare tear up this contract," Sun Wenshi said nervously, snatching it back.
"What does this clause at the end mean?" Xiang Tianyi’s voice sounded like it was being squeezed out of his throat.
"I think the girl has probably figured out you’re the one behind the orders. She added this specifically to block any… improper ideas you might have," Sun Wenshi teased, giving Xiang Tianyi a sidelong glance.
"That Song Nianchu!" Xiang Tianyi gritted his teeth.
"Oh? How rare—someone actually managed to get under your skin like this?" Sun Wenshi studied Xiang Tianyi with undisguised amusement.
"You think this is funny?" Xiang Tianyi’s expression darkened.
Ahem…
Seeing he was genuinely angry, Sun Wenshi forced his smirk down.
"Not that funny. Just mildly amusing."
"Hmph."
Xiang Tianyi snorted coldly.
"By the way, Comrade Song is waiting for my reply. Do you still want her goods going forward?" Sun Wenshi might enjoy the show, but business was business.
"Yes!" Xiang Tianyi bit out.
He knew exactly how profitable this product was—no way he’d let pride cost him money.
"If you’re this reluctant, maybe you should just drop it. Wouldn’t want you pulling some underhanded trick and ruining things for the girl," Sun Wenshi prodded.
"Is that really what you think of me?" Xiang Tianyi turned to glare at him.
"Pretty much."
Xiang Tianyi: "…"
"Are you saying you don’t want future shipments from me?" Xiang Tianyi flashed him a dangerous smile.
"No, no! Just joking! Don’t take it seriously!" Sun Wenshi quickly backtracked.
A lot of the goods in his supply cooperative came from Xiang Tianyi—he couldn’t afford to actually piss him off.
"How long do you want to sign for? Any changes in quantity?" Sun Wenshi steered the conversation back on track.
"One month for now, same quantity as today. I’ll let you know if there are adjustments later," Xiang Tianyi said.
"Got it." Sun Wenshi nodded and stood to leave, but couldn’t resist one last jab.
"Don’t take it too hard. No point making money if you wreck your health over it."
Xiang Tianyi looked up, ready to retort, but Sun Wenshi had already bolted.
In a battle of words, he was no match.
After Sun Wenshi left, Xiang Tianyi downed several cups of tea, but the fire in his chest refused to die down.
This was the first time he’d ever felt so humiliated making money.
Song Nianchu!
He gnashed his teeth, savoring the name like it was poison.
——
Back in Qinghe Fishing Village, everyone had worked through the night, producing over six hundred cans by morning.
Song Nianchu and Wu Gang delivered the goods to the county and finalized the ongoing cooperation plan with Sun Wenshi.
When Sun Wenshi told her they could sign a one-month contract, her smile was radiant.
She’d assumed her added condition yesterday would make Xiang Tianyi refuse to work with her—or at least slash the order size and duration.
Yet not only was the quantity unchanged, but the contract now spanned a full month.
"Director Sun, thank you so much for this," Song Nianchu said with heartfelt sincerity.
"Don’t thank me. Your product speaks for itself." They both understood the unspoken subtext.
"Oh, I tried the fermented black bean smoked fish you gave me yesterday—excellent stuff. Is it in mass production yet? I’ll take a hundred cans to test the market," Sun Wenshi added.
"That might take a little longer." With everything else going on, production capacity was stretched thin. They’d need to expand first.
"Fine. Just reserve a hundred for me once it’s ready."
"No problem. You’ll be the first to get them," Song Nianchu promised cheerfully.
"Deal."
"Deal!"
——
After securing the big order, Song Nianchu returned to the village and went straight to Wu Zhenggui.
Wu Zhenggui stared at the contract, his face wrinkling into a grin like a dark, weathered chrysanthemum.
"A-Chu, I knew you could do it." Wu Zhenggui, with little education, struggled to articulate his emotions.
It felt like casting a net empty-handed for years, only to suddenly haul in a miraculous catch.
"With more orders, we’ll need extra hands. The village office space might not be enough," Song Nianchu pointed out.
"True, but there’s nowhere else in the village we can use." Wu Zhenggui frowned.
"I was thinking we could build a dedicated cannery workshop," Song Nianchu suggested.
"A whole workshop? That’d cost a fortune. Where would we get that kind of money?" Wu Zhenggui sighed.
"Not right away. After this month’s orders and the fishing gear factory’s profits, we should have enough for a small facility."
"Then let’s see how much we earn this month first." Wu Zhenggui didn’t outright reject the idea.
"Agreed!" Song Nianchu smiled.
——
The following month, Qinghe Fishing Village entered a frenzied double-rush period—eyes open, hands working.
Most threw themselves into the work, but a few slacked off, like Mu Jingmei.
After several night shifts, she quit.
"Mom, I can’t do this anymore! Day and night, nonstop—it’s exploitation!" Mu Jingmei ranted, brimming with resentment.
"But everyone else is doing it, and night shifts earn extra work points," Mu’s mother reasoned.
"What’s the point if I get sick? Those points won’t cover medicine! That Song Nianchu is pure evil—she’s working everyone to death!" Mu Jingmei’s tears fell in fat drops.
With no specialized skills, she’d been assigned the dirtiest, hardest tasks—like cleaning bloodied fish carcasses.
Her hands were now crisscrossed with cuts from fish bones, ugly and sore.
"But more points mean more food at distribution. Your father didn’t even come home for dinner."
"I don’t care! I eat little anyway—I’ve earned enough for myself. I’m not going tonight, no way!" Mu Jingmei stormed into her room and slammed the door.
Mu’s mother hesitated, then swallowed her words and left with dinner for Mu Deyi.
