“Because the canned fish in the state-run restaurant is produced by our village,” Song Nianchu said slowly and deliberately.

“What ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‍did you say?” The supply and marketing cooperative director looked astonished.

“Girl, are you serious? The canned fish at the supply and marketing cooperative is made by your village?” The middle-aged woman pushed the director aside.

“Yes, the label on the can clearly states the production location. If you don’t believe me, you can check—it definitely has Qinghe Fishing Village printed on it,” Song Nianchu replied.

“Really? I’ve seen the label, but I thought it was just for decoration. So it actually shows the production site?” The woman suddenly understood.

“Exactly. Our contact address is also on it,” Song Nianchu nodded.

People back then weren’t used to checking product labels, unlike later generations who paid close attention—especially since some product ingredients could practically fill the periodic table.

“That’s wonderful! Can you sell me a few cans of your village’s fish? Last time I took my son to try it, and now he keeps begging for more. We can’t get a spot at the state-run restaurant, and the canned fish sells out instantly. If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t have been tricked by the fake stuff here,” the woman, who had been fierce earlier, now looked at Song Nianchu with warmth.

“Comrade, our supply and marketing cooperative doesn’t sell fakes. That’s still canned fish,” the director, who had been shoved aside, quickly defended himself.

The woman ignored him, her eyes fixed expectantly on Song Nianchu.

“Auntie, I don’t have any stock on me right now, but since you’re such a supporter of our village’s products, I’ll bring you a can tomorrow—free of charge. Consider it compensation for your loss after being misled by a counterfeit,” Song Nianchu said, her business-savvy mind already seeing this as a prime advertising opportunity with so many people gathered around.

“You… you’re giving it to me?” The woman was stunned.

“Of course. We’re thrilled you love our product so much,” Song Nianchu smiled.

“Girl, I’m holding you to your word—don’t you dare trick me!” The woman grabbed Song Nianchu’s hand tightly.

A single can of fish cost over a yuan—getting one for free was like manna from heaven.

“I won’t lie to you. Tomorrow at the same time, we’ll meet right here. Everyone can bear witness—if I don’t show up, you can come straight to Qinghe Fishing Village, and I’ll compensate you double!” Song Nianchu raised her voice so the crowd could hear.

“Then we’ll come back tomorrow to see how this plays out.”

“Exactly. That canned fish isn’t cheap. This girl looks young—even if her village makes it, can she really make such a decision?”

“Who knows? We’ll just come back tomorrow and see.”

“Right, right—don’t forget to call me when you go!”

“…”

People were already making plans to return. Hearing their chatter, Song Nianchu couldn’t help but smile.

Human nature thrives on gossip, and with so little entertainment in society back then, any bit of drama drew crowds.

This was the perfect chance to advertise and boost their brand’s reputation. From now on, whenever people saw other canned fish, their first thought would be of Qinghe’s.

The long-term profits would far outweigh the cost of a single can.

Both sides walked away feeling like they’d struck gold.

“Alright, see you tomorrow,” the woman said solemnly.

“Sure.”

“…”

With a free can secured, the woman’s mood improved. She didn’t bother arguing with the director anymore, picking up her disappointing purchase and heading home.

It might not taste great, but since she’d paid for it and they wouldn’t refund her, she might as well take it.

Once the woman left, Song Nianchu approached the counter.

“Hello, I’d like to buy some rice…” She listed the items she needed.

The salesclerk, however, was still dazed from the earlier scene, staring at Song Nianchu blankly.

“Comrade?” It took several calls from Song Nianchu before the clerk snapped back to attention.

“Oh, what did you want?”

Suppressing a sigh, Song Nianchu repeated her order.

After gathering her purchases, she turned to leave—only to hear a familiar voice calling after her just a few steps away.

“Comrade, wait a moment!”

Song Nianchu instinctively turned and saw the supply and marketing cooperative director hurrying toward her.

“Were you calling me?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

“Comrade, I’m Sun Wenshi, the director of this cooperative,” he introduced himself.

“Director Sun, hello. I’m Song Nianchu, from Qinghe Fishing Village,” she reciprocated politely.

“I heard earlier that the canned fish supplied to the state-run restaurant comes from your village?” Sun Wenshi probed.

“Yes,” Song Nianchu nodded.

“But as far as I know, Qinghe Fishing Village doesn’t have a cannery,” he ventured.

As the cooperative director, he was familiar with the county’s industries.

In his memory, Qinghe was just an ordinary fishing village, surviving off their catches.

“There’s no cannery—just a small workshop,” Song Nianchu explained.

“Ah, just a small workshop,” Sun Wenshi mused.

“Was there something you needed, Director Sun?” Song Nianchu played the part of a naive young girl.

“Well, I’d like to purchase some canned fish from your village. What’s your pricing?” His eyes gleamed with calculation.

A small workshop was fine—as long as there was demand.

“But I just saw canned fish here in the cooperative. Where did you source yours? Wouldn’t that conflict with our supply?” Song Nianchu countered.

“Oh, that’s just a new product from an old friend. He asked me to test the market here,” Sun Wenshi replied, clearly underestimating her.

“How’s the response?”

“You saw it yourself. I’ve been fielding complaints nonstop these past few days. His product can’t compare to yours. I’ll just tell him it didn’t sell—no harm done,” Sun Wenshi said breezily.

“Is your friend from another fishing village?” Song Nianchu asked casually.

“No, he’s from the city,” Sun Wenshi shook his head.

A city friend?

Song Nianchu already had a suspect in mind—it had to be Xiang Tianyi’s doing.

“Comrade Song, you haven’t answered my question. Can your village spare some stock for me?” Sun Wenshi pressed when she stayed silent.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep