Li Qingyu paused, contemplating what he had heard, and asked:
"Are you fully staffed with people now? Enough for the factory to operate at full capacity?"
Zhuangsen nodded.
"Fifteen hundred workers are enough to bring the chemical plant to its maximum. And we have another eighty people listed as the mortality rate."
"Until these eighty have completely worked themselves out," he continued, "we will constantly replenish our numbers with new ones, from various channels. Productivity will not suffer because of this."
Li Qingyu frowned. "You even have a 'mortality rate'? And how long does it usually take for these eighty people to die?"
"About a month."
Li Qingyu almost fell back. Damn it, over a thousand workers – and eighty die in a month. These are people, for God's sake, living people!
"What in the hell are you doing? Why are people dying so fast?"
Zhuangsen answered calmly:
"Mainly due to chemical contamination, which corrodes the body."
"You've seen it yourself, Lao-da, our shacks are right next to the reactor. No matter what we do – work or rest – we breathe the same poison."
The street exuded the bitterness of chemicals, as if the earth itself had a metallic taste.
"Usually, they start working at ten, by twenty-five strong side effects appear, and by thirty – fatal damage. Almost no one lives to thirty-five."
"And that's just from chemical poisoning," he added with a tired grimace. "And we still have to work sixteen hours a day."
"People get exhausted to the bone, their Spirit wanes, and they die from the slightest mistakes in production. This is the main cause of death."
Li Qingyu clicked his tongue. Sixteen hours at the machines, and sleeping next to chemicals – then eighty deaths a month isn't so surprising.
And then a thought flashed through his mind – to change the order of things.
Not out of pity, no. The factory was not his goal, but a stepping stone. Every action he took led to one goal: to control his own destiny and, when the time came, to sit at the table with the powerful of this world.
He calculated: what if he increased the number of workers and simultaneously started recruiting from them?
Since a place in the Lower Hive was a rare stroke of luck, let others strive for it themselves. More jobs – more "residents of the Lower Hive" ready to work, from whom he could choose the strongest and most vicious – to make warriors out of them.
And loyalty? It's simple here: take those who have families. Let their relatives work at the factory, and the men themselves go into battle. There will be fear of losing loved ones – they won't run away.
And then, he thought, give people a little respite. Let them live better, so that death doesn't come every thirty days, as scheduled.
Soldiers on the front line see: the master cares for their families – which means they hold on tighter.
Thinking this, Li Qingyu ordered:
"Let's increase the number of workers to three thousand. We'll divide them into two shifts, so each works twelve hours a day."
"During work, we'll provide gas masks and protective suits. We'll move the housing further away from the reactor."
"Will this at least reduce the mortality rate?"
Zhuangsen listened and slowly came alive. Hesitantly picking at his fingernail, he replied:
"Lao-da, if all this is done, monthly losses can be reduced to single digits."
Li Qingyu rubbed his chin and turned to the Black Merchant.
"I remember you had gas masks and chemical protection suits. How many exactly? And where did they come from?"
The Black Merchant Nepal, bowing respectfully, replied:
"Lao-da, I have one hundred and twenty-five sets of chemical protection suits. That's not much, of course."
"We can get more in two ways – we'll make some ourselves, and buy some from outside, from neighboring factories."
Li Qingyu gave a short snort.
"Give everything you have to Zhuangsen. Let him distribute it first to those in the most dangerous areas."
"And you, don't fuss with your junk for now – focus on producing suits. I want everyone to have their own set. I'll give you money, buy as much as you can from outside."
Then he turned to Zhuangsen.
"The smell of chemicals is so strong here that it stings the eyes. We can't live here anymore. After the shift – all workers will be relocated elsewhere."
Zhuangsen was taken aback:
"Lao-da, do we have anywhere to go?"
Li Qingyu pointed to one of the tunnels – about five kilometers away was his distillery.
"Find some time, send people. Seal all the side branches of the passage with Synsteel Powder, and build dormitories along the main tunnel. After the shift, workers will rest there, away from the reactor."
Zhuangsen scratched his fingers faster than before and looked at him with disbelief. Is he a saint, alive? Giving such conditions to workers? He must have decided to raise an army of fanatical martyrs…
Although… if everything he said comes true – I'd agree to be his fanatic, ha!
But Li Qingyu wasn't finished yet.
"Zhuangsen, I want to increase the number of workers to three thousand as soon as possible and introduce round-the-clock shift rotation. Do you have any ideas where to recruit people?"
"And I'll say right away," he added, "only take those who have families. No lone wolves."
"From the workers, I will later call up combat-capable young men – they will become soldiers, and their relatives will remain to work in the workshops. Do you understand what I want?"
Zhuangsen nodded. The old gangs knew these tactics by heart – binding people through families so they wouldn't bolt.
"Understood, Lao-da. Recruit only those who have something to lose."
"May I ask, how many fighters do you want? Then I'll adjust the recruitment, add more young and strong ones."
Li Qingyu squinted. "And what do you think, how many are needed? How many armed men did the Electronic Eye have at its disposal?"
"Usually," Zhuangsen replied, "the number depended on neighboring gangs. The more enemies around, the larger the detachment. If there are few people, you'll be attacked quickly. If there are too many – it's too expensive to maintain them."
"The Electronic Eye had a hundred reliable fighters – enough to fend off most attacks."
Li Qingyu shook his head negatively.
"A hundred is enough for defense, but not enough for offense. Let it be two hundred. Recruit two hundred combat-ready youths and start training them."
"You'll handle this. Within a month, increase the number of workers to three thousand and select the two hundred strongest – make them soldiers."
He clapped Zhuangsen on the shoulder.
"Work well. With me, you might not get rich, but you definitely won't starve."
Zhuangsen beamed. "Lao-da, just for what you're already doing, the workers will carry you in their arms!"
"I'll be frank: in a month, I'll complete everything. And I'll pick fighters for you – tall, strong, ready for battle right now!"