Zuo Ling wanted to buy tea oil at the oil mill, but the dirty and chaotic environment of the oil mill made her hesitate.
The oil mill worker, quick-witted as ever, smiled and said:
"Sister, do you think the environment of an oil refinery can be any good? You just haven't seen it. Oil itself gets covered in dust, how can it not be dirty?"
Another oil mill worker joined in the banter:
"Young lady, the oil here is 100% pure pressed, without a trace of adulteration. Unlike those who say it's not blended, who knows if it's been blended or not? Our oil is so clear that you can see it for yourself."
Indeed, when the cleaned camellia fruit is poured into the oil press, the residue is removed while the oil is extracted.
Zuo Ling bought 1,000 jin of tea oil at 48 yuan per jin, and used all sorts of different containers to hold the oil.
Looking at the pile of oil jugs on the ground that looked like they had been through a disaster, I couldn't quite describe the feeling.
The high price of tea oil, besides being driven by capital speculation, is likely related to its nutritional value.
We turned the car around and went to the camellia oil plantation, where we bought dozens of camellia oil saplings from the tea farmers.
The tea farmer is honest and kind, offering a friendly reminder:
"Young lady, it's not the season for transplanting now; the survival rate is low."
I thank the tea farmer for his kindness:
"It's okay, I'll try planting them. Who knows, maybe they'll survive."
When the tea farmer refused to listen to advice, he stopped talking.
Sports shoe factory.
Upon hearing that a wealthy woman had arrived wanting to buy herself a whole box of shoes, the manager spat out a mouthful of tea and sprayed it all over his assistant's face.
Wipe your mouth, that's petty, that's petty.
The world of the wealthy is beyond our comprehension. Even if she only buys shoes for her right foot, I should remain calm and composed, showing no surprise whatsoever.
Although he remained calm, he couldn't help but be curious and accompanied Zuo Ling on a tour of the factory.
Zuo Ling's eyes were opened wide: Mou An, Mou Ke, Mou Bu, Mou Dan, Mou Si, Mou Ning, Mou Shi...
Any athletic shoe with a bit of brand recognition on the market is readily available everywhere, like cabbages.
The person in charge will remain calm and composed to the end:
"Our factory does OEM manufacturing, processing according to customer orders. We produce Grade A replicas, and the quality is guaranteed."
Zuo Ling's request was simple: "Just don't sell me shoes with smelly feet."
The person in charge seemed to have suffered a tremendous insult:
"Rest assured, although we produce OEM products, the quality of our products has been certified by our clients. Otherwise, we wouldn't be able to fulfill orders for counterfeit goods. We don't make those smelly shoes; any manufacturer that dares to make those shoes would have been criticized to death long ago."
Zuo Ling tried on several styles; the cut was good, and they were very comfortable to wear.
Once the styles and sizes she could wear were chosen, a whole carriage was filled with them.
The truck was already loaded, and the person in charge still couldn't believe it—the wealthy woman had actually bought herself a whole truckload of shoes!
Watching the van drive away, the person in charge sighed:
"The level of the wealthy is something that ordinary people like us can never comprehend."
Zuo Ling was easygoing. She never liked cleaning shoes anyway. With so many shoes, even if she wore one pair and threw the other away, she could still wear them for a long time.
In peacetime, she would not give her old shoes to others.
In the apocalypse, having clothes that are neither tattered nor worn out is something many people would desperately want.
If you don't want to wear it anymore, you can exchange it for other supplies, and there will be people scrambling to buy it.
At that time, giving someone a pair of old shoes will be considered an act of charity.
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