The Tyrant once said that if you want workers to actually work hard and feel a sense of belonging, you cannot rely on strict rules or pointless slogans. It's all about profit. In short, people work for food and virtual coins, not for vague ideals or empty dreams. As long as you give them enough coins or enough to eat so they don't have to worry about daily survival, they will 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 in sheer shock. Even Su Yiyang choked on his tea and coughed violently, the liquid splashing onto his jacket. Jing An swallowed hard, his throat tightening as he thought his daughter must have lost her mind. Two thousand employees? In this harsh apocalypse? Did she really have the resources to feed and pay that many people without going bankrupt?
"A Red Nematode Feed Processing Factory," Jing Shu said calmly, her voice steady. "And I also want to hire you as the HR Manager for the factory. You will be responsible for selecting the best candidates for each position from the crowd. 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 at him. "Of course, you don't have to give up your current job with the government. You already know these people well and are responsible for keeping them safe. Now, that task just got a lot easier, didn't it?"
"You... you have already figured out how to breed red nematodes?" Lao Tuo asked in disbelief. The few accompanying Visitation Specialists beside him were equally stunned, their eyes wide. If that technology had really been developed to a commercial scale, then the factory's future was basically a money-printing machine for whoever owned it.
Jing Shu simply raised a brow and didn't respond to the question directly. "Almost there," she thought to herself. For now, she would let them dream big about the possibilities.
Under such a huge temptation, Lao Tuo, or rather Manager Tuo, quickly slipped into his new role. Yet, despite his excitement, he couldn't help worrying about the factory's future sustainability.
"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 all day? What if some refuse to work but still want to stay for the food? And what if someone stirs up trouble among the ranks? How do we manage that?"
Jing Shu's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "Our factory won't have formal or temporary positions in the traditional sense. There's no base salary, only commissions. The more work someone does, the more food they earn for their family. We will also have a tiered reward system. Reach certain levels, and the benefits will be even better than what government employees get. I will explain the details later, so take careful notes, Manager Tuo."
She leaned back slightly against the chair. "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 beads of sweat from his forehead. "They would drown in everyone else's spit!"
Exactly. Now that his own interests were involved in the success of the venture, he was anxious too. Profit really was the best leash to keep people in line.
Su Yiyang and Jing An were completely dumbfounded by the display. When had they ever seen Jing Shu so organized and systematic, laying out every rule and plan so clearly? Su Yiyang even wiped his own forehead. If things went as she said, his role here really was just supervisory—and maybe, occasionally, to give a few speeches to keep morale up.
Half an hour later, the middle-aged Manager Tuo stood with a thick notebook in his hands, filled with several pages of 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 had 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 of the workers would take care of them on their own to protect their own earnings.
Jing Shu took a long, slow sip of her goji-ginger tea from her thermos and said, "Alright, Manager Tuo, since everyone is already here, gather them all up in the main hall. Tell them the land has been officially purchased, and explain our new concept to them. Hold a meeting, and finalize everyone's job assignments today. The extra people can handle sales or go out to collect carrion scavengers. Assign another group to start the work to repair the factory buildings."
Next year's mudslide would hit this area too, though the impact wouldn't be as bad as it would be at Xishan Villa. Besides, this remote location made it easy for her to redirect the water flow away from the structures. There was no need to worry about blocking Lao Wang's doorway next door this time.
This land was obtained through a government loan that had to be repaid. The sooner production started, the sooner she could show results to the authorities. She might be a big boss now, but she didn't have a single virtual coin in her pocket at the moment. She often joked to herself, "I never carry money. Can't pay wages? Then I will just give out red nematodes instead!" Still, she had to make those loan payments every month without fail.
The factory on this golden land would be officially named the Red Nematode Patty Processing Factory. To make things more interesting for the consumers, Jing Shu planned to have her researchers develop several new, cheap, and tasty flavors for the patties. That could come later, though. For now, the top priority was to build the operational framework—and more importantly, to draw the big cakes of future prosperity for the workers.
"What is going on?"
"Didn't you hear? There's a meeting today! Word has been spreading since yesterday. They say the new boss who bought this land is going to kick us all out into the cold."
"Zhang Zi, you better rally your brothers together. If they're really opening a factory, demand a few dozen security jobs for us. If they refuse, we will 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 frozen corpses for food," Lai Ziba muttered enviously.
Zhang Zi stayed silent, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white. His wife and child were still inside the dorms, huddled together with other women for warmth against the draft. The least he could do was earn some virtual coins to keep them alive. Sure, the government gave kids meal subsidies, but it was never enough to actually fill a stomach. 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 desperation.
Most people there shared that sentiment. Half of Wu City's buildings had been destroyed by the massive earthquakes. Their old homes were gone, and constant tremors made other shelters unsafe to inhabit. Everywhere else was packed to bursting with refugees.
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 the world before, were now essentially worthless. So where else could they go?
The old factory hall was massive and empty, the air inside cold and still. 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 from malnutrition, wrapped in makeshift clothes sewn from whatever scraps they could find—fabric, plastic, even bits of couch leather.
A temporary stage had been set up at the front of the hall. From her spot above on the balcony, Jing Shu looked down at the crowd. It was like watching a martial arts gathering for beggars suffering from malnutrition.
The contrast was striking and grim. Only the middle class and formal workers, who could still afford to eat regularly, 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 have got great news for everyone!"