The Tyrant once said, if you want workers to actually work hard and feel a sense of belonging, you can't rely on strict rules or pointless slogans. It's all about profit. In short, people work for food and virtual coins, not for ideals or dreams. As long as you give them enough coins or enough to eat so they don't have to worry about survival, they'll gladly work twenty-four hours a day. That's just how hardworking and resilient the Chinese people are.
"Huh? Everyone? What kind of job needs that many people?" Lao Tuo's jaw dropped. Even Su Yiyang choked on his tea and coughed violently. Jing An swallowed hard, thinking his daughter must've lost her mind. Two thousand employees? In this apocalypse? Did she really have the resources to feed and pay that many people?
"A Red Nematode Feed Processing Factory," Jing Shu said calmly. "And I also want to hire you as the HR Manager for the factory. You'll be responsible for selecting the best candidates for each position. As for your compensation, how about a commission-based system depending on performance? Only manager-level staff or above qualify for dividends, after all."
She smiled. "Of course, you don't have to give up your current job. You already know these people well and are responsible for keeping them safe. Now, that just got a lot easier, didn't it?"
"You... you've already figured out how to breed red nematodes?" Lao Tuo asked in disbelief. The few accompanying Visitation Specialists beside him were equally stunned. If that technology had really been developed, then the factory's future was basically a money-printing machine.
Jing Shu simply raised a brow and didn't respond. "Almost there," she thought. For now, she'd let them dream big.
Under such a huge temptation, Lao Tuo—or rather, Manager Tuo—quickly slipped into his new role. Yet, he couldn't help worrying about the factory's future.
"Even if we can breed tons of red nematodes every day, hiring that many people means paying that many wages. Can the factory even handle that kind of load? What if there's too much idle labor and people just sit around doing nothing? What if some refuse to work but still want to stay for food? And what if someone stirs up trouble? How do we manage that?"
Jing Shu's lips curved. "Our factory won't have formal or temporary positions. There's no base salary, only commissions. The more work someone does, the more food they earn. We'll also have a tiered reward system. Reach certain levels, and the benefits will be even better than what government employees get. I'll explain the details later, so take notes, Manager Tuo."
She leaned back slightly. "You know, the strongest loyalty comes from shared interests. When everyone's profit is tied together, what do you think will happen if a few people try to stir up trouble?"
Manager Tuo wiped sweat from his forehead. "They'd drown in everyone else's spit!"
Exactly. Now that his own interests were involved, he was anxious too. Profit really was the best leash to keep people in line.
Su Yiyang and Jing An were completely dumbfounded. When had they ever seen Jing Shu so organized and systematic, laying out every rule and plan so clearly? Su Yiyang even wiped his forehead. If things went as she said, his role here really was just supervisory—and maybe, occasionally, to give a few speeches.
Half an hour later, the middle-aged Manager Tuo stood with a thick notebook in his hands, filled with notes. His admiration for Jing Shu was beyond words. Not only had she solved the housing issue for more than two thousand people, but she'd also tied their interests tightly to the factory's future. As for the few bad apples?
Heh, no need to lift a finger. The rest would take care of them on their own.
Jing Shu took a long sip of her goji-ginger tea from her thermos and said, "Alright, Manager Tuo, since everyone's already here, gather them all up. Tell them the land's been officially purchased, and explain our new concept. Hold a meeting, and finalize everyone's job assignments today. The extra people can handle sales or collect carrion scavengers. Assign another group to repair the factory buildings."
Next year's mudslide would hit this area too, though not as badly as Xishan Villa. Besides, this remote location made it easy for her to redirect water flow. No need to worry about blocking Old Wang's doorway next door.
This land was obtained through a government loan. The sooner production started, the sooner she could show results. She might be a big boss now, but she didn't have a single virtual coin in her pocket. She often joked, "I never carry money. Can't pay wages? Then I'll just give out red nematodes instead!" Still, she had to make those loan payments every month.
The factory on this golden land would be officially named the Red Nematode Patty Processing Factory. To make things more interesting, Jing Shu planned to have her researchers develop several new, cheap, and tasty flavors. That could come later, though. For now, the top priority was to build the framework—and more importantly, to draw the big cakes.
"What's going on?"
"Didn't you hear? There's a meeting today! Word's been spreading since yesterday. They say the new boss who bought this land's gonna kick us all out."
"Zhang Zi, you better rally your brothers. If they're really opening a factory, demand a few dozen security jobs. If they refuse, we'll make a scene. A big one. Let's see if they can still run their factory then."
"Tch, look at Liu Zi's crew—they're working security for the government now. They get one meal a day and live easy. Way better than us scraping corpses for food," Lai Ziba muttered enviously.
Zhang Zi stayed silent, clenching his fists. His wife and child were still inside, huddled together with other women for warmth. The least he could do was earn some virtual coins. Sure, the government gave kids meal subsidies, but it was never enough. He had to feed his family, whatever it took.
If someone dared to force them out now, he wouldn't hold back. His brothers all felt the same.
Most people there shared that sentiment. Half of Wu City's buildings had been destroyed by the earthquakes. Their old homes were gone, and constant tremors made other shelters unsafe. Everywhere else was packed to bursting.
After the apocalypse, anyone with a useful skill—pickling, planting, medicine—had become a formal worker or at least a temp. But people like them, ordinary office workers from before, were now worthless. So where else could they go?
The old factory hall was massive and empty. When the energy-saving lights flickered on, the sight below was a sea of heads. They were all skin and bones, their faces pale and yellowish, wrapped in makeshift clothes sewn from whatever scraps they could find—fabric, plastic, even couch leather.
A temporary stage had been set up at the front. From her spot above, Jing Shu looked down at the crowd—it was like watching a martial arts gathering for beggars suffering from malnutrition.
The contrast was striking. Only the middle class and formal workers, who could still afford to eat, had rosy complexions and wore normal clothes from before the apocalypse. The difference in class was so clear it was almost branded onto their foreheads, dividing everyone into upper, middle, and lower ranks.
Manager Tuo stepped onto the stage, grabbed the loudspeaker, and shouted, "Comrades, I've got great news for everyone!"