Jing Shu coughed lightly. "It takes three days for them to mature and seven days to reproduce a new batch, but the newly developed red nematodes can only breed two generations. Beyond that, they can't reproduce anymore. So basically, every ten days, we'll need to feed in a new batch of larvae. Right now, we can only produce about ten tons a day."
The numbers she reported were the ones she was willing to sell publicly. The rest would be stored once production stabilized—some for paying debts, some for trade with Qian Duoduo, and the rest as reserves. These were her costs and expenses.
There was no point selling everything she produced. What good would a pile of virtual coins do? Those coins were just a means to keep the market flowing. Jing Shu's real goal was preparing for the famine of the fourth and fifth years, to save both Qian Duoduo's Shiyuan estate and her own shares in it.
Qian Duoduo couldn't die yet. He needed to stand at the front, taking the heat, while she quietly grew stronger in the background. That was the real strategy.
Here's an example.
Everyone in China knew who the richest person in the country was each year—one year it was Wang Linjian, another year it was Father Ma, another year it was the guy from Penguin—but who remembered the second richest?
People always remembered who was number one.
Just like in Wu City. Mention the richest person and everyone thought of Qian Duoduo. But the second richest? Ninety-nine percent of people had no clue.
After hearing her report, Jin Tianci looked satisfied. "You've still got room to grow. Keep it up. If you run into any problems, go to the government. We'll help you figure it out. Do you think it's possible to increase production to over a hundred tons a day?"
Jing Shu almost popped her eyes out.
Seriously? You're really saying that with a straight face? She forced a polite smile and said, "There's not enough raw material, and we're short on conversion reagents too. If those were solved, we could produce however much you want."
He must be joking. If she produced that much red nematode every day, the Spirit Spring would be drained dry. Sure, it only acted as a catalyst, but with that much output, the consumption would skyrocket. With her thrifty and stockpiling nature, there was no way she'd waste too much of that life-saving Spirit Spring.
"Unless I can find large quantities of the materials that make up the Spirit Spring. The Rubik's Cube Space can convert items from other dimensional spaces, right? That means as long as I find other dimensional products, the Cube Space can also transform them into Spirit Spring, maybe even with different effects. But that depends on luck. If I ever find another dimensional item, I can try it."
Jin Tianci looked a bit disappointed. "Alright, then. Keep up the good work. If you need any materials to increase output, just come to me. As long as it's something the government can handle, we'll take care of it." After all, in times like these, anyone who could develop new food sources was invaluable. Support was a must.
Director Su led the group onward, touring the now fully operational factory while giving an enthusiastic explanation. His words painted a picture of the difficulties and high costs behind breeding red nematodes, and he subtly emphasized that only Boss Jing herself could create and mix the formula.
As the workers scooped out the dead red nematodes from the bottom of the pools, they passed them along the conveyor belts to massive grinders. The nematodes were ground up to prevent the rubbery texture that made them impossible for children and the elderly to chew.
The paste was then sent into giant steam kettles. The place used to be the factory's boiler room before the apocalypse, so it was the perfect fit.
With winter getting colder by the day, especially with the fifth year expected to drop below minus seventy degrees Celsius, they had to keep the boilers running. Otherwise, the workers would freeze to death. The boiler room was connected to the dorms, so once the heat started flowing, maintaining the temperature didn't cost much. It was like electricity—just a bit of fuel each hour to keep the rooms warm.
That way, the dorms stayed above zero degrees, and workers didn't have to shiver through the night. It was a major perk of the job and explained why a single dorm room cost a hundred points per month. With such comfort, no one wanted to leave the factory anymore.
Just a few days ago, some LV3 employees with enough points had applied for four-person dorms and kicked out others. Those who didn't have enough points had to sleep in the hallways, working extra hard these days to level up.
Still, housing was limited. Jing Shu estimated it wouldn't even take a month before people started realizing the benefits of higher levels and VIP perks. Soon enough, the four-person and two-person dorms would fill up.
When the first LV5 employees moved into single rooms, space would become even tighter. By then, she planned to open LV6 permissions for luxury suites, and later LV7 for presidential suites. Anyone capable of earning hundreds of thousands, even millions of points, deserved to enjoy that top-tier, "one-person-below-the-boss" kind of treatment.
She'd also promised her Maternal Eldest Uncle's family a place to stay. Right now, her uncle was living in a single dorm room, and her aunt was still at Xishan. If they moved here, three people would be crammed into one small room. Living like that for long wasn't convenient at all. And imagine their kid asking, "Dad, Mom, what are you doing?" when things got awkward. Everyone needed a little privacy.
Most importantly, Jing Shu had chosen this factory site for a reason. It was a lucky piece of land that had survived countless crises during the apocalypse. It was the perfect location for a second home and a potential refuge.
She wanted to build a larger, more comfortable manor-style estate here. The villa in the Banana Community was already packed with supplies and felt cramped. Even after adding a 300-square-meter backyard, it still couldn't compare to this massive ten-thousand-square-meter factory site. There was also a patch of wasteland nearby, which she was already thinking of developing.
"But it's about time we planned new residential housing for employees," she murmured. "Still, rebuilding isn't realistic right now. Whether it's the new manor I want or dorms for the staff, we don't have the resources or materials. It's too expensive."
Construction materials were scarce, and building anything from scratch took time. It would only get colder later on, and those tin shacks wouldn't keep anyone alive. They'd need proper insulation.
And if she was going to build a second manor for herself, it couldn't be inferior to her villa. So what could she do?
A mobile manor estate, of course.
There were plenty of luxurious mobile homes left in the old shelters. Some were lightweight, warm, and easy to relocate. They were the kind of things she could only dream about in her past life—the ultimate luxury for the rich. Wherever they went, home followed.
Even in this life, Jing Shu hadn't planned to go after such things, but now that she had land and resources, her ambitions were growing. She didn't just want to eat the best food in the world—she wanted to live in the biggest, most comfortable home too.
After all, what was the point of being reborn if not to live better in this godforsaken apocalypse?
Her gaze shifted back to Jin Tianci, and a new idea began to form.