Early the next morning, Gong Jian and the others were already waiting at the city gate. Before long, townspeople began arriving one after another. Gong Jian noticed that they had even brought some tools and dry rations with them. Clearly, they had done similar work before.
"We don't need these tools. How about this—put them here first. We only need your labor."
Gong Jian explained it to them again. This had been an oversight on their part; they had forgotten about it yesterday. But people in this world had long since become accustomed to it.
Anyone doing this kind of work was expected to bring their own tools. Gong Jian felt somewhat emotional. Though they were not from the same world, they ultimately shared the same culture.
Even their habits could not be changed. Gong Jian still remembered that when he was four or five years old, road construction in his rural hometown had also been assigned down to each village.
During the slack farming season, every household had a set quota to fulfill. Those with four-wheeled vehicles had one quota, and those without them had another. Everyone brought their own tools and rations.
Back then, much of many countries' basic road infrastructure had been built this way.
Many things had been passed down in people's bones.
Gong Jian did not say much about the rations. There was no need to explain it now. Letting them experience it personally would be better than telling them in advance.
People arrived quickly. However, what surprised Gong Jian was that once everyone had gathered, there were far more people than had registered yesterday—at least a hundred extra. Many of them were women.
"Sir, I may be a woman, but I can work too. I'm no weaker than a man. If I help out,