"We can't let the workers in our factory watch people in other steel factories eat while our own people can't, don't you think?"
When talking about this topic, Fang Zhuo seemed quite excited, as if his proposal was very wonderful.
But Jia Dongsheng's expression had darkened. He said gloomily, "Old Fang, are you serious?"
"Of course."
Fang Zhuo nodded as a matter of course: "Dongsheng, look, now that the meat is solved, we can use the vegetarian meat and cabbage and radish to make dumplings for the factory. It's not a big deal."
"No trouble?"
Hearing this, Jia Dongsheng almost laughed out loud: "Lao Fang, do you know how many people are in our factory now?"
"How many people?" Fang Zhuo didn't understand what he meant. "What's the big deal? It doesn't matter what you do. Isn't it the same?"
Facing the ignorant Fang Zhuo, Jia Dongsheng took a deep breath and then said word by word, "Old Fang, how many dumplings do you eat in one meal?"
“How many dumplings are there in one meal…”
Fang Zhuo thought for a moment and said, "It should be at least sixty or seventy, maybe eighty or ninety, depending on the condition of the stomach."
"Are you a pig? How can you eat so much?" Jia Dongsheng complained.
"You are the pig, Dongsheng, how can you talk like that?" Fang Zhuo was of course not happy to hear this.
"Eighty or ninety aren't they still pigs?"
Jia Dongsheng said unhappily, "Let's assume each person eats fifty dumplings. How many people does our factory need? Let's round it up to 10,000. How many dumplings do we need to make?"
"Uh, five hundred thousand?"
Fang Zhuo casually said a number, but scared himself. Then he looked at Jia Dongsheng, hoping to get an accurate answer.
"Do you still want to make dumplings for the brothers in the factory?"
Faced with this question, Fang Zhuo fell silent. How long would it take to wrap 500,000 dumplings?
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