The crowd erupted in a frenzy, pointing and whispering amongst themselves.
"I knew it! Ice is so expensive, but their popsicles are so cheap. They're made with poison!"
"What heartless bastards! They don't even care about human lives just to make money!"
"You're right! I used to always like to buy their popsicles. Now that I think about it, it's kind of scary. Luckily nothing bad happened, or what would have happened to my whole family!"
...
People were talking amongst themselves, their eyes filled with anger as they looked at the Gan family.
"No, that's not how it is, please listen to me..."
Hearing the increasingly vile curses hurled at him, Gan Mingli broke out in a cold sweat. He tried to explain, but the woman's cries drowned him out.
"Fellow villagers, you must do justice for me! My husband has died so mysteriously, how are we, a widow and orphans, supposed to survive!"
The woman was crying with snot and tears streaming down her face. At first glance, she looked very pitiful, making people feel sorry for her and even more disgusted with the 'murderer'.
"The Gan family is too heartless. Aren't they afraid of retribution for making money this way?"
"That's right, people like that should be arrested and handed over to the authorities!"
"Yes, arrest them, arrest them!"
...
Someone in the crowd shouted something, and the crowd immediately became agitated, clamoring to arrest Gan Mingli and bring him to the authorities.
Old Man Gan and his family were immediately thrown into a panic; they had never seen anything like this before.
Gan Mingli hurriedly explained, "Everyone, everyone, listen to me, our popsicles really aren't made with saltpeter. No, popsicles are made with saltpeter, but we..."
"But what but? You just admitted it yourself, are you still trying to deny it?!"
From the crowd, a burly man stepped forward, pointed at Gan Mingli's nose, and cursed, "You heartless bastard, you killed someone and you still want to deny it?!"
After saying that, he rolled up his sleeves and pretended to grab Gan Mingli.
Seeing this, Old Man Gan and Gan Quan quickly stepped forward to protect Gan Mingli behind them.
"What do you want?!" Old Man Gan roared, "You want to hit people in broad daylight?!"
The man, however, was not afraid at all and sneered, "I'm beating you up, you black-hearted bastard!"
As he spoke, he swung his fist and punched Old Man Gan.
"father!"
"grandfather!"
Seeing this, Gan Mingli and Gan Quan rushed forward to protect Old Man Gan, and the three of them began to fight. The crowd immediately became even more chaotic, with shouts, curses, and cries all mixed together, creating a deafening cacophony.
"Enough!"
With a roar, a middle-aged man stepped out from the crowd. He wasn't tall, but he possessed an air of authority. The crowd, seeing him, exclaimed with delight:
"The village head is here! The village head is here!"
It turned out that someone noticed something was wrong and went to report it to the village head.
As soon as the village head arrived, someone immediately stepped forward and separated the fighting group. It was three against one Gan, but the man was really burly. The group didn't suffer too much loss, but they didn't gain any advantage either, and all of them had some bruises on their faces.
Among them, Old Man Gan was the most seriously injured and was helped to the side by Gan Quan to rest.
The village head walked up to Gan Mingli and asked in a deep voice, "Someone reported that someone died from eating popsicles from your store. What exactly happened?"
Gan Mingli was sweating profusely with anxiety: "Village head, it really has nothing to do with us. My family has been selling popsicles here for so many days. If something were to happen, it would have happened long ago. How could it be that only he was poisoned? Besides, our popsicles are not poisoned at all!"
Seeing this, the woman cried out again, sobbing:
"Village head, you must do us justice! My husband died from poisoning after eating their popsicles, and it's outrageous that he won't admit it and even said these things, implying that my husband was unlucky and deserved to die?"
"The doctor said my husband died from ingesting saltpeter, and he—" The woman pointed at Gan Mingli and said, "He just admitted that their popsicles are made with saltpeter! Don't believe me? Ask everyone!"
Someone in the crowd immediately chimed in, "That's right, we all heard it!"
Upon hearing this, the village head looked at Gan Mingli again: "Is this true?"
Gan Mingli hurriedly said, "Our ice is indeed made with saltpeter, but these popsicles are not poisonous because, because..."
"Why?" the village head asked.
Sweat poured down Gan Mingli's forehead like rain, and he was so anxious he wanted to stomp his feet: "I can't say! This is related to our family's secret recipe."
"What secret recipe? You're clearly killing people just to make money!" the woman cried out.
The village head's face darkened as he looked at Gan Mingli and said in a stern tone, "I advise you not to hide anything anymore! Human life is at stake. If you don't tell the truth, don't blame me for being impolite!"
Gan Mingli was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan, pacing around in circles.
What should we do? If we don't say anything, people will be misunderstood and think we poisoned them.
But this recipe is my sister's life's work, how can I reveal it in front of so many people?
Gan Mingli gritted his teeth and shook his head firmly.
"Fine!" The village head laughed angrily, "Since you refuse to listen to reason and are forced to drink the penalty cup, then don't blame me for being impolite!"
He waved his hand and said to the two burly men behind him, "Men, arrest him!"
"father!"
"His father!"
Zhao and her two children cried out in anguish, but could only watch helplessly as Gan Mingli was taken away.
When the crowd realized there was no excitement to be had, they dispersed.
The woman who had been wailing and lamenting just moments before had also left with her family, carrying away the man who had supposedly died from poisoning, leaving the Gan family alone, facing the mess on the ground, speechless with grief.
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