Neither Wang Yan nor Zhuangzhuang mentioned being hassled while running their stall. There was no need to talk about it—after all, it had already been dealt with, and telling people about it would not change anything.
Wang Yan had no intention of making himself into a spectacle for others to watch, so he simply said nothing. The less other people knew, the more at ease he felt.
Zhuangzhuang was even simpler: she kept a tight lid on things. If Wang Yan did not say anything, she certainly would not either.
What had happened was quite representative. With so many people selling barbecue, and grilled meat stalls nearby as well, after five days, there was no way they had not noticed how special Wang Yan's seasoning was.
Once enough people knew about it, someone coming to make trouble was inevitable. Human greed was at work.
That also showed that the time had come.
That day, Wang Yan carried a machine into the courtyard.
Little Northeast asked curiously, "Fellow townsman, what kind of machine did you get?"
"For grinding powder and mixing."
"You need that for lamb skewers too? Isn't the medicine grinder enough? Wouldn't grinding it too fine be bad? Are you trying to steal my job?" Little Northeast fired off three questions in a row.
Previously, whenever Little Northeast had nothing to do, he would grind the seasonings, and Wang Yan would mix them himself. At noon, Wang Yan would provide a meal, and everyone would eat, drink, and have a lively time together.
Even now, everyone got up early to help Wang Yan skewer the meat, and the workload had increased considerably, with each person threading more than a hundred skewers on average. But Wang Yan still did not pay them wages. Instead, he provided food and liquor.
He