Chapter 1587 - 1564: Holiday Village Trial Operation (Part 2)

"Doesn’t matter if you’re an adult or a child, as long as you can do the accounts. The daily wage is 100 bucks, and once the goods are sold out, we pack up; if they don’t sell, it’s still fine, we pay the wage anyway." As soon as Irving Spencer finished speaking, everyone was delighted.

A hundred bucks a day just by sitting at the entrance of the scenic area, and it’s not restricted to children or adults. The elders can sew shoe soles while selling goods, making money without missing any work. Thus, everyone looked at each other, tempted, but a bit embarrassed about asking for money.

"Uncle Spencer, just say how many people you need. We won’t take money."

"Not taking money won’t work. We need about six hands—two at the scenic area and four to stay in the Holiday Village to help. Marcus Quinn thinks we can sell food, and you too can sell with us. There’s hardly a place to eat at the foot of this mountain; people come here to travel but are starving, naturally heading back to the county town right after climbing, not lingering a bit. But if we sell some food and drinks, wouldn’t that keep them around?"

Once Irving Spencer finished speaking, everyone started discussing excitedly, thinking it made sense. Especially the children, who wouldn’t want to earn some pocket money? Irving quickly recruited people, and everyone went back to prepare some specialties, ready to sell them during the National Day.

Once everything was agreed upon, the meeting ended. The remaining were A-Tan, Marcus Quinn, and the Spencer Family members for another meeting.

What to sell tomorrow was decided early on; on the mountain, the only ripe fruit this season is the orange. An entire orange grove will surely be sufficient for selling. Selling just fruits wouldn’t be enough; we need to sell some cooked food as well, as that’s the most convenient. Naturally, we won’t sell those signature herbal pig’s trotters this time—the cost is too high. Selling pig’s trotters at 100 bucks a pound would probably have people calling us a heartless merchant. Therefore, we’ve removed the expensive herbal ingredients and only added cheaper herbs; the taste might be slightly worse, but it’s still much better than the pig’s trotters sold outside, and cheaper too—30 bucks a pound. Irving brought back a hundred pounds from Suton, and if we run out tomorrow, we can buy more in the county town.

Besides selling pig’s trotters, we’ve stocked a hundred boxes of pure water. As their return trip was short, despite having hundreds of acres of farmland and mountain woods, most were barren, and a month’s time wouldn’t yield a large amount of produce. The ultimate goal of National Day is to draw the crowd to the Holiday Village, so we’re keeping the food simple.

Not only needing to consider the food sold at the scenic area, but the Holiday Village’s dining also needs planning. Since it’s a trial operation and staff are lacking, all lunch supplies are set menu—two meat dishes, two vegetarian dishes, one fruit. The menu was set by Marcus Quinn: one dish of spicy and sour fish fillets, one secret recipe pig’s trotters, one stir-fried greens, one spicy and sour shredded potatoes, with ugly oranges as the fruit, priced at 88 yuan. The fish are caught from the lake, and we have more than 100 pounds of pig’s trotters, while the greens and potatoes are harvested from the greenhouses, plenty available.

With all these arrangements in place, Marcus Quinn went to the kitchen to stew the brine for pig’s trotters. As he had to watch over the fire, the man stayed in the kitchen while A-Tan bathed and then brought the fan and some ugly oranges into the kitchen.

The Quinn Family’s estate has two kitchens, one in the outer courtyard and one in the inner courtyard. However, the outer one is where Auntie Spencer often cooks; it’s square-shaped and can accommodate two or three dozen people cooking together, equipped with both earthen stoves and gas stoves. There’s a small kitchen in the inner courtyard, but Marcus Quinn has been too busy recently, and A-Tan doesn’t cook often, so it isn’t much used.

Marcus Quinn tends the fire in the large kitchen of the outer courtyard, sitting in the corridor reading books. A-Tan knows that lately, he’s frequently reading various books—not only about agricultural planting but also about the cultivation of flowers and trees, and sometimes business management books.

A-Tan squatted down but before she could settle down, the man seized her slim waist and drew her onto the bench, sitting side by side.

"Why aren’t you sleeping?" The man’s arm encircled her waist like a powerful iron clamp, not doing anything intimate but not letting go either.

A-Tan found her face inexplicably flushed when circled by him. She knew some animals, like leopards, enjoy wrapping their tails around their possessions, signaling ownership. She wasn’t sure when it started, but the man changed from holding her hand to circling her waist. Though there wasn’t any subsequent action, his body always exuded a hormonal allure, constantly tempting her.

"Couldn’t sleep, seems a little unreal." A-Tan didn’t move, sitting close to him, raising her head to look at the starry sky, speaking quietly, "These days, I kept thinking I was dreaming. Felt like living two lives, having a completely different experience."

Before 22, it seemed like her past life; now, in this small village with a man she’d known for three months, was her present life.

"My grandfather always tells me, things you can’t figure out, don’t bother. Just focus on doing things earnestly." Marcus Quinn’s voice was deep as he opened up, putting the book aside while focusing on the nearby young woman, profound and restrained.

"A-Tan, if one day you could return to your previous life, would you?" Marcus Quinn asked quietly.

This question, he had never asked aloud for a long time, so their relationship stagnated, neither getting the marriage certificate nor too many intimate actions. At difficult times, he’d hold her hand, hug her, temporarily quenching his blood’s restlessness.

He knew once he truly claimed her, he wouldn’t let go. Yet A-Tan was young and too wonderful; he couldn’t give her the life she had before. He couldn’t maneuver nimbly around chic circles like those noble young men she knew, receiving the praises of everyone.

He feared she might someday be disappointed with the life she chose, disappointed in him, which would be a disaster he could never recover from.

A-Tan was caught off guard by his question; since her father’s passing, she couldn’t return. Once the Holiday Village was on track, and they no longer had to struggle for survival, she planned to return to Seacoast to pay respects to her father.

"I don’t know." Her face slightly dimmed, silently lowered.

Marcus Quinn’s gaze deepened slightly, restrained as he withdrew his hand, saying softly, "What do you want to eat? Tomorrow night, I’ll cook for you in the small kitchen."

"Really?" A-Tan’s eyes lit up. She hadn’t eaten Marcus Quinn’s cooking for a while.

"Hm, once the Holiday Village’s on track, I’ll cook for you every day." The man smiled, speaking in a soft, deep tone. As for whether the Holiday Village could make money, how much money it could make, he didn’t care at all, as long as A-Tan was happy.