Zhang Lan was speechless. Looking at the gazes of the villagers around her—a mixture of sympathy, incomprehension, and disappointment—her face flushed red and then paled. Finally, she could only pick up the sieve and start sifting the sesame seeds again. This time, she dared not be lazy and carefully sifted each sesame seed until there were no impurities left in her palm.

When she finished work in the evening, Zhang Lan was so tired that her back ached and she didn't even have the strength to lift her arms. Lin Wanqiu called her over and handed her two peach shortbreads: "Although you didn't quite meet the standard today, you did your best. Take these two peach shortbreads home for the children to try. Be there at 5 a.m. tomorrow morning to try making red bean paste buns. Each red bean paste bun must have three qian (a unit of weight) of filling, not a qian more or less. If you feel you can't do it, you don't have to come tomorrow."

Zhang Lan accepted the peach shortbread, her heart filled with mixed emotions. Watching Lin Wanqiu's busy figure, she realized that Lin Wanqiu not only managed the workshop's production but also coordinated orders with the county food factory, working far more hard than she did every day, yet never complaining. She suddenly understood that Lin Wanqiu wasn't making things difficult for her; she genuinely wanted to run the workshop well so everyone could have stable employment. But the thought of the strict rules and heavy workload made her hesitate.

When she got home, Grandma Shen saw the peach shortbread in her hand and her eyes lit up: "Lan, how's work at the workshop? When will you get paid? Could you bring back some more flour?"

Zhang Lan handed the peach shortbread to the child and said irritably, "Don't even think about it. The workshop rules are very strict. You can't even take a single sesame seed. We work so hard every day. If you don't meet the standard today, and you still can't work tomorrow, we won't let you continue."

Grandma Shen immediately became anxious: "You won't let me work? How can that be! It's only five cents a day, and meals are provided. Where else can you find such a good job? You have to work hard tomorrow and not slack off. Even if it's tiring, you have to bear it!"

Zhang Lan didn't say anything, but watching the children eat so happily, she was extremely conflicted. She wanted to earn a wage and give her children a better life, but she was also afraid that she couldn't endure the hardships and rules of the workshop. She tossed and turned all night, and as dawn approached, she finally made up her mind—she would try again tomorrow, and if it really didn't work, it wouldn't be too late to give up.

At the stroke of dawn, Zhang Lan appeared at the workshop on time. Lin Wanqiu placed a bowl of red bean paste and dough in front of her, with a small scale next to it: "Let's begin. Wrap twenty in an hour. Each filling costs three qian and the dough costs seven qian. After wrapping, place them on oiled paper. They must not stick to the edges or deform."

Zhang Lan took a deep breath, picked up the dough, kneaded it into small portions, rolled them out into wrappers, and placed red bean paste filling inside. But she was clumsy; either she put in too much filling, causing it to leak out when she pinched it closed, or she put in too little, resulting in flat, shapeless dumplings. An hour passed, and she had only made ten, none of them even remotely good.

Lin Wanqiu looked at the crooked red bean buns and shook her head: "Sister-in-law, you are really not suitable to work in the workshop. If you want, you can help Wang Erzhu move things and deliver pastries with the carriage every day. Although it is tiring, you can get a wage as long as you deliver them on time."

Looking at the red bean buns, and remembering the heavy boxes of pastries she would have to carry for dozens of miles, Zhang Lan's last bit of resolve crumbled. She sighed, her voice tinged with disappointment: "No, Wanqiu, I know I'm not cut out for this. I can't carry them either. I won't hold you back any longer."

Lin Wanqiu looked at her, feeling no schadenfreude, only a trace of regret: "If you change your mind in the future and are willing to work hard, the workshop will still welcome you."

Zhang Lan nodded, turned, and walked out of the workshop. Sunlight streamed through the wooden window, falling on her but bringing no warmth. Watching the busy figures of her fellow villagers in the distance, she was filled with regret—if only she hadn't been lazy, if only she had been more diligent, perhaps she could now have a stable job in the workshop like Widow Li and the others. But there's no going back. She could only lower her head and slowly walk home.

Lin Wanqiu stood at the workshop entrance, watching Zhang Lan's figure disappear into the alley, and sighed softly. It wasn't that she didn't want to give Zhang Lan a chance, but the workshop needed to develop; it couldn't afford to be careless. Only by being strict could it go far. Just then, Shen Tingzhou returned in his carriage. Seeing her grave expression, he asked softly, "What's wrong? Zhang Lan didn't pass?"

Lin Wanqiu nodded: "She was indeed not suitable, and she gave up. Next, we still need to find some reliable and capable villagers to fill the manpower gap in the production workshop."

Shen Tingzhou held her hand, his fingertips warm: "Don't worry, we'll find the right person. You've done a great job, giving Zhang Lan a chance without breaking the workshop's rules."