"I can manage. The dishes are almost all cooked, now we just need to pack them," Aunt Wu nodded repeatedly.
"Good." Song Nianchu thought the current portion should be enough for their small team.
Hua had just finished cooking a batch, so Song Nianchu walked over and tasted it with her chopsticks.
"How is it, Ah-Chu?" Hua asked nervously, watching Song Nianchu.
"It tastes great." Song Nianchu gave her a thumbs-up.
Hua immediately beamed with joy. "It's not me—you prepared all the ingredients in advance. I just followed your steps, so of course it turned out well."
"You still have to control the heat perfectly, Sister Hua. Don’t be so modest," Song Nianchu praised sincerely.
She never hesitated to compliment diligent workers.
The more you praised them, the better their results would be.
Hearing this, Hua couldn’t suppress her smile.
"Ah-Chu, go rest for a bit. I’ve got one last batch to finish," Hua said, now full of motivation.
"Alright." Song Nianchu nodded but didn’t actually rest. Instead, she joined the others in packing.
One person filled the containers, another sealed them, and a third labeled them.
"Ah-Chu, I heard from Uncle Zhengui that you developed a machine for weaving fishing nets?" Aunt Wu, who was sealing the lids, glanced curiously at Song Nianchu.
"It wasn’t me—Mu Shi'an invented it," Song Nianchu clarified.
At those words, Meng Yingying, who was filling a glass jar with food, suddenly trembled, and a piece of fish fell to the ground.
"Oh no, Comrade Meng, be careful! Don’t waste food!" Aunt Wu quickly picked up the fallen fish, carefully blowing off the dust.
"I... I’m sorry," Meng Yingying stammered an apology.
"It’s fine, just be more careful next time," Song Nianchu reassured her.
Meng Yingying was usually very diligent—this was her first mistake in days. Song Nianchu wasn’t the type to be overly strict.
"Ah-Chu, can we still use this fish that fell on the ground?" Aunt Wu asked.
"Of course not. If customers find sand or dirt in their food, they’ll stop buying our products," Song Nianchu said firmly.
"Then we can’t use it!" Aunt Wu agreed immediately. "But... what should we do with this piece?"
"Throw it away," Song Nianchu declared.
"Throw it away? That’s such a waste! Why not let me take it?" Aunt Wu blurted out.
"Aunt Wu, I know you hate waste, but if I allowed dropped food to be taken home, it could lead to problems," Song Nianchu lowered her voice slightly.
At first, Aunt Wu didn’t understand, but when she met Song Nianchu’s serious gaze, realization dawned.
People loved taking advantage of small opportunities. If workers could keep dropped food, some might deliberately let things fall to take more home.
"Ah-Chu, you’re so clever. I didn’t even think of that," Aunt Wu said sheepishly.
"You just didn’t want to waste food," Song Nianchu smiled.
Aunt Wu glanced at the fish in her hand. Though reluctant, she followed Song Nianchu’s instructions and tossed it into the slop bucket.
The others watched, surprised, but they also understood—nothing that fell could be taken, so they worked even more carefully.
From then on, no one made another mistake, and the packing proceeded smoothly.
"Ah-Chu, I’ll help you load these into the basket," Aunt Wu stood up.
"Thank you," Song Nianchu said gently.
"This is nothing," Aunt Wu waved her off.
Working in the kitchen had been the easiest job she’d had in years.
Once Aunt Wu left, only Song Nianchu and Meng Yingying remained.
Perhaps because of the earlier mishap, Meng Yingying seemed uneasy and made to leave.
"Comrade Meng," Song Nianchu called out to her.
Meng Yingying stiffened, her eyes filled with unease as she turned.
"Song... Comrade Song."
"Is there something you wanted to tell me?" Song Nianchu asked.
They had been working in a secluded corner of the yard, far enough from the others that their conversation went unnoticed.
"N-no, nothing," Meng Yingying clutched the hem of her clothes nervously.
"Are you sure?" Song Nianchu pressed.
"I... I’m sure," Meng Yingying’s voice trembled.
Seeing how frightened she looked, Song Nianchu didn’t push further.
"Don’t be nervous. I just noticed you kept glancing at me earlier and thought you might have something to say."
"I... I’m sorry. I won’t do it again," Meng Yingying bowed deeply.
"Please, we’re all comrades here," Song Nianchu reached out to help her up, but Meng Yingying flinched away, retreating several steps.
The fear in her eyes was unmistakable. Song Nianchu’s hand froze mid-air.
"I’m sorry," Meng Yingying apologized again before hurrying off.
Watching her flee like a startled bird, Song Nianchu frowned.
What kind of life was she living at Old Wu’s place to be so terrified?
"Ah-Chu, everything’s packed for you!" Aunt Wu called out just then.
Song Nianchu pushed her thoughts aside and walked over.
"Be careful on the road," Aunt Wu said warmly.
"Mm." Song Nianchu nodded, hoisting the heavily laden basket onto her back and leaving the village office.
Unnoticed, Meng Yingying’s gaze lingered on her retreating figure.
"Comrade Meng, our morning shift is over. Let’s head home," Hua called to her.
"...Alright." Meng Yingying snapped out of her daze and followed.
---
State-Owned Restaurant.
Manager Li’s Office.
"Nianchu, here’s your payment for today," Manager Li cheerfully handed her a stack of bills.
"You seem in high spirits lately, Manager Li," Song Nianchu remarked as she took the money.
"Of course! Thanks to your advice, business has been booming," Manager Li grinned, his eyes nearly disappearing into crescents.
Though his salary stayed the same regardless of the restaurant’s performance, success brought other perks.
That morning, a high-ranking official had even called to reserve a private room—something unheard of before, when he’d had to grovel for their patronage.
This was the first time he had heard such a warm and cordial address—"Manager Li."
No amount of money could buy such a gesture of respect.
