I couldn't take it anymore; when I went home for Chinese New Year, the family genealogy book ha

He didn't stay in the warehouse any longer and turned to walk directly towards the village committee.

My second uncle, Jiang Jianmin, and several other old men were following behind, muttering things like, "What are we going to do?" and "We can't let such a good deal fall into our hands," their faces full of anxiety.

Jiang Chen ignored them completely.

A few minutes later, the loudspeaker on the roof of the two-story building of the village committee, which had been silent for a long time, suddenly emitted a piercing electrical sound.

"Buzz—Buzz—Hello! Hello!"

Jiang Chen's voice, through this most primitive yet most effective tool, instantly spread to every corner of Jiangjia Village.

The women who were weeding in the field straightened their backs.

The old men who were watching TV inside put down the remote control.

The men who were bragging at the village store stopped talking.

Everyone perked up their ears.

"Folks! Business in Jiangjia Village is booming!"

Jiang Chen's voice carried an undeniable penetrating power.

"Right now, the factory is overwhelmed with packing work and urgently needs help!"

"Let's skip the fluff and get straight to the point! Anyone who comes to help will be paid by piecework!"

"A package, from being wrapped in foam to being packed and sealed, costs only 50 cents!"

"If you're quick and efficient, you can earn two hundred yuan in half a day. It's much easier than you toiling in the fields for a living!"

"Those who are willing to come, put down your bowls, chopsticks, and hoes now, immediately, and assemble under the big locust tree at the factory gate!"

The voice just fell.

The entire Jiangjia Village seemed to have been activated, instantly coming to life.

"Dad! Stop hoeing! Chenzi's gone to call people to make money!"

"Mom, watch the kids for a bit, I'm going to check on things at the factory!"

"Hey, hey, wait a minute, I'll go right away after I change my shoes!"

"Two hundred for half a day? Isn't that four hundred for a whole day? My goodness!"

Less than twenty minutes.

The once spacious factory courtyard was now packed with people.

Men, women, young and old, a huge crowd, the scene was even more lively than a grand opera performance during the Spring Festival.

Even Jiang Taohua, who had just finished her postpartum confinement a few days ago, was being helped by her mother-in-law to stand at a distance, peeking out with a look of eager anticipation.

Jiang Chen stood on the second-floor balcony, looking at the scene below, and nodded in satisfaction.

Sometimes, modern management is no match for this simple and brutal "people's war."

"Big Gou!"

Jiang Chen shouted downstairs.

"Bring all the equipment out! Set up the assembly line right in the yard!"

"Okay!"

Wang Dagou responded and, along with several young men, piled bundles of foam sleeves, cardboard boxes, and tape into the center of the yard like a small mountain.

Thus began a massive "village-wide packing campaign".

Jiang Chen didn't conduct any complicated training.

He had Wang Dagou demonstrate at the front, and the movements were simple and clear.

Hold the bottle in your left hand, wrap it with a plastic film in your right hand, put it in the box, and seal it with tape.

"Got it? It's that simple! Just do it! The more you do, the more you earn!"

Wang Dagou shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Understood!"

The crowd erupted in a thunderous response.

The villagers' enthusiasm was instantly ignited.

The entire compound was instantly transformed into a huge and efficient packaging workshop.

The aunties, in groups of three or five, occupied the shady spot, chatting about this family and that family, while their hands moved quickly, tearing the tape with a "ripping" sound.

The young men were in charge of carrying the boxes of strawberry jam, which were passed from hand to hand, creating a moving scene.

Even Third Grandfather Jiang Wanshan couldn't sit still.

The old man brought a small stool from somewhere and sat in the quietest corner, putting on his reading glasses.

He did nothing else but use scissors to cut rolls of wide tape into small pieces for others to use.

His posture was steady and focused, as if he were carving a work of art with a chisel.

The whole scene was noisy and chaotic, yet full of vibrant life and a primal beauty of collaboration.

Everyone was showing off how much they had bought, calculating how much money they could earn that day, their faces beaming with the most genuine desire for wealth.

However, amidst this commotion...

There was one figure who seemed out of place.

He neither mingled with others nor spoke a word; he simply stood alone in a corner of the warehouse, silently doing the most tiring work.

The man was wearing an old military uniform that was faded and patched in several places, and a pair of mud-covered liberation shoes with frayed edges.

He looked to be in his sixties, with gray hair, sun-tanned skin that was dark and reddish, and deep wrinkles on his face that looked like they had been carved by a knife.

His name is Jiang Mancang, and the villagers call him "Old Ox".

No one knows who first came up with this nickname, but everyone in the village thinks it's fitting.

Jiang Mancang is Jiang Chen's distant uncle; they are related by generation, but by blood.

He had almost no presence in the village, was extremely quiet, even a bit dull, never argued with anyone in his life, and never took advantage of anyone.

When the village distributes dividends, he is always the last to go and collect them, accepting whatever amount he is given without ever uttering a word.

At this moment, he is standing beside a pile of cardboard boxes that have been unloaded from the truck.

The cardboard used for packing was bundled together, weighing 200 pounds each, and tied tightly with wire.

The other young men carried a bundle in pairs, shouting work chants as they worked.

Jiang Mancang, alone, walked to the half-person-high cardboard box, bent down, took a deep breath, and with a sudden burst of strength, steadily lifted the two hundred pounds onto his not-so-broad shoulders.

His body was bent slightly under the pressure, and the veins on his neck bulged out.

The distance from the truck to the warehouse entrance was only thirty meters, but he walked with extreme difficulty. With each step, his canvas shoes seemed to sink into the cement.

Sweat, like water just drawn from a well, streamed down his graying temples, along his deep wrinkles, and into his neck, quickly soaking a large patch of the collar of his old military uniform.

He gritted his teeth, remained silent, and silently carried the heavy cardboard box into the warehouse.

The moment he put down the cardboard box, he felt completely exhausted, leaning against the wall and breathing heavily.

In the noisy courtyard, it seemed that no one noticed this silent corner, or the old man who silently dedicated himself like an ox.

Except for Jiang Chen.

He stood on the second-floor balcony, holding a cup of tea, but his gaze remained fixed on Jiang Mancang.

I watched it for a very long time.