According to incomplete statistics, wherever Wang went, he had to stew at least one old hen.
So early that morning, in the factory cafeteria, Wang diligently set about stewing chicken soup.
He had one very good quality: he never ate alone. If he had been at home by himself, that would have been one thing, but this was the factory cafeteria, where workers came for breakfast every morning. His chicken soup smelled so good—how could he enjoy it all by himself while the workers could only smell it? That would have been downright improper, like there was something wrong with him as the boss.
So this time, Wang stewed several old hens in two large pots, making sure everyone got a share and could taste the number one super-invincible old hen soup in the world.
The power of chicken soup stewed in huge pots was even greater. Its scent drifted on the morning breeze, leaving a faint fragrance throughout the entire factory compound.
That aroma lured the workers, who had slept their fill through the night, wide awake. They did not even need time to shake off their morning grogginess; they were instantly alert. They thought of nothing else but finding where the smell was coming from. Had aliens descended to Earth to stew meat for breakfast?
Unable to sleep any longer, they all got up, washed up, and headed to the cafeteria. The closer they got, the richer and more fragrant the scent became.
Once they entered the cafeteria, every one of them started swallowing hard.
"Why's the big boss cooking in person so early in the morning?" Guo Zongbao cheerfully leaned over to look into the pot. "Whoa, two huge pots of chicken soup. Smells incredible."
"Everyone's been working hard lately, so I thought I'd make some chicken