It was already a busy time. Aside from Chef Zhou and his team cooking in the cafeteria, almost everyone else was either working in the fields or up in the mountains. The chicken farm only had a few people handling feeding and cleaning.
"What are you all doing here?"
A group of men observing the fish fry in the pond were the first to speak up when they saw the large crowd approaching.
"We—we're here to help you. To free you from the oppression you don’t even realize you’re under."
The leader’s words left the questioner baffled. But seeing the group march toward the chicken farm, armed with clubs, they immediately sensed something was wrong.
"This is private property. You can’t just barge in like this!"
But their shouts were useless—they were outnumbered and promptly shoved into the water.
Uncle Yang was pushing a wheelbarrow out of the chicken farm when he saw the aggressive mob.
"What are you all up to?"
"Don’t waste time talking to him. Listen—those are chickens squawking in there. Just how many are they raising?"
"Stop right there! No one’s allowed inside!"
Uncle Yang raised the shovel he used to scoop chicken manure from the wheelbarrow.
"Old man, you’re already halfway in the grave. If you value your life, get out of the way."
With a rough shove, Uncle Yang was knocked aside, and the intruders stormed into the chicken farm.
His legs already unsteady, Uncle Yang now felt a sharp pain in his back. But hearing the commotion inside, he gritted his teeth, raised the shovel, and slammed it hard against the metal wheelbarrow.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The loud noise quickly drew attention.
"Old Yang, what’s wrong?"
"Troublemakers—they’ve broken into the chicken farm!"
"What? Who dares cause trouble here?"
"You old fool, we told you to stay out of it. Now you’ve gone and called more people over."
One of the intruders rushed out and saw another old man—no, more old men running toward them. Their faces twisted with malice.
The plan was to cause chaos, to ruin the farm’s reputation. And if a few old men died in the process? So be it.
"Drag them inside. Look at all these chickens—they’re living fat and happy while the rest of us struggle. If we divided these birds among the poor, wouldn’t every family prosper?"
The words "prosper" struck a chord. Those already itching for trouble stepped forward, fists raised.
Up in the mountains, the workers heard the noise and looked down. Nothing seemed amiss—but that only made them more uneasy. They were veterans, after all.
"Something’s wrong down there."
Yang Yufen frowned.
"Little Zhang! You’re fast and you’ve got a bike. Take mine and go see what’s happening."
She tossed him the keys, and Little Zhang caught them midair before sprinting off to the bike.
Back at the cafeteria, Chef Zhou and his crew heard the commotion. Stepping outside, they saw a drenched young man running toward them.
"Trouble—a whole gang, thirty or forty of them, armed and heading for the chicken farm!"
"Oh no—Old Yang and the others are there!"
Old Zhou’s face paled.
"Old Zhou, we can’t take them—they’re all young and strong!"
The soaked young man grabbed Old Zhou’s arm as he moved to help.
"We need backup."
Old Zhou snapped back to his senses.
"Quick—can anyone drive the three-wheeler? Damn it, where’s Little Zhang?"
Frantic, he searched for the keys.
"I’ve got a bicycle. I’ll go get the police!"
The young man, realizing the urgency, ran back to the pond for his bike.
Little Zhang sped downhill and found Old Zhou assessing the situation at the chicken farm.
"Little Zhang! Get help, fast! They’ve tied up Old Yang and the others—there’s gunpowder inside! Thirty-seven men, some might be enemy spies!"
"What?!"
Gunpowder? Enemy spies? Since when did spies operate so brazenly?
Little Zhang didn’t hesitate. He sped off, soon overtaking the young man on the bicycle.
He raced straight to the nearest police station.
Old Zhou sent someone to intercept the workers coming down from the mountain—charging in now would be suicide.
Inside the chicken farm, the intruders had tied up their captives and were now eyeing the plump, nearly-ready chickens with greed.
"These birds eat better than we do!"
One man sneered, poking at the feed in the troughs.
"Look how fat they are. One chicken could feed a family for days."
Distracted by the chickens, they didn’t notice someone quietly preparing gunpowder—clearly planning more than just theft.
Some grabbed sacks, others ropes, and they began snatching chickens from the cages.
"There’s so many! Even if we each took twenty, we wouldn’t make a dent!"
Uncle Yang, his back in agony, passed out from the pain. Those who tried to help him were beaten.
Old Zhou clenched his teeth in fury.
"Old Zhou, we’ve only got two hunting rifles. There are too many of them—and Old Yang’s in bad shape."
Yang Yufen arrived with reinforcements. The intruders, aware they were surrounded, smirked defiantly at Old Zhou and the others.
"Can we turn some of them? They can’t all be united."
Aunt Wang, watching closely, spoke up.
"I’ll distract them. They’re greedy, but hauling live chickens won’t be easy. Give me one of the rifles."
Yang Yufen stepped forward.
"No, it’s too dangerous. I’ll go."
Old Zhou protested.
"Stop arguing! They’ll let their guard down around me. You said there’s gunpowder—they might have guns too. I was the ‘Iron Lady’ of the commune back in the day. I know how to shoot."
She took the rifle. The chicken coop had doors on both sides, and she didn’t waste time.
"Listen up! I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m in charge. Let our people go, and I’ll take you to the money. Isn’t that what you came for?"
"Shut it, old hag! You think we’ll just believe you? Ha! Another hostage means even the cops won’t dare touch us."
"Wait—since when are we fighting the cops?"
One man hesitated.
"The government protects people like them! Look at all these chickens—how much money do they make? Where does it go? Straight into the pockets of their cronies! After all the suffering we’ve endured, now they force our kids to school—and who pays for it? Us!"
