“Go to the neighborhood committee and ask them to help find a few more people to help. We’ll pay them 10 yuan a day. There are too many people; the three of us definitely can’t handle it.”
In 1985, the minimum daily wage for temporary workers doing light physical labor was only 2.5 yuan. Lin Li paid 10 yuan a day, which was several times the wage outside.
"Okay!" Lin Laosan wiped the sweat from his brow, squeezed through the crowd, and ran toward the neighborhood committee.
Ten minutes later, when Lin Laosan arrived with five or six people, they found that the entrance had already been blocked.
They couldn't squeeze in at all.
"That won't do. I need to disperse the crowd, otherwise something bad could easily happen."
The neighborhood committee aunties who followed her were also sweating profusely when they saw the scene, and hurriedly ran back to the neighborhood committee office.
Lin Laosan stood at the door, listening to the sounds of people asking prices, trying on clothes, and paying inside. He was so anxious that he kept stamping his feet and shouting loudly.
"Excuse me, excuse me, I'm a shop assistant inside, please let me in first."
But no one gave way to him, and a moment later, he was pushed out by the crowd again.
Just when he was at his wit's end, he saw a girl inside secretly take a piece of clothing, put it in her arms, and run out.
He grabbed her.
"Take the clothes out. Did you pay?"
"Who are you? Let me go! Or I'll scream for help!"
Lin Laosan's face turned red with anxiety upon hearing her words, but he still did not let her leave.
"I'm the owner of this store. I saw you take a piece of clothing from inside and run away. I wanted to ask if you paid for it?"
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