The two of them turned around at the same time.
A middle-aged man wearing blue work clothes hurried over from the warehouse. He was holding a document in his hand, and his expression didn’t look very good.
He was in his forties, slightly balding, with a small belly. The name tag on his work uniform read:
Warehouse Manager Chen Kang.
Lu Zhiyu said, “They went to eat.”
“Did you see Old Wang?”
Lu Zhiyu was just about to answer that he had only started working here today and didn’t know who Old Wang was.
“Manager, were you looking for me?”
Old Wang happened to return after lunch and was about to lie down on the bench for a quick rest.
He was a man in his forties with deeply tanned skin. He wore a faded red T-shirt with a Red Bull logo printed on it.
“You came back at the right time.”
Chen Kang handed him the document.
“You were the one who shipped the apples to Jiangcheng yesterday, right? The customer only wanted two hundred boxes of size 75 apples, but you loaded five hundred boxes of size 80.”
“The customer called this morning and chewed us out, saying we were forcing products on them. Their warehouse doesn’t even have room for the extra three hundred boxes.”
“One box of size 80 apples costs fifteen yuan more than size 75. Now we have to transport those three hundred boxes back. Who’s going to take responsibility for that loss?”
Old Wang frowned as he took the document.
“Manager, that’s not right. The order you gave me yesterday clearly said five hundred boxes of size 80. If you don’t believe me, go to the document room and check the copy.”
Chen Kang turned toward the document room beside Platform 1 and called out,
“Yang Min! Yang Min, come out for a moment and bring me the copy of yesterday’s Jiangcheng shipment.”
About half a minute later, a young woman in a pink dress hurried out from the warehouse.
She was still holding a pen in her hand, and her hair was casually tied into a ponytail.
She handed the document to Chen Kang.
Chen Kang unfolded it.
Sure enough, it clearly stated:
Receiver: Jiangcheng Haoyunlai Supermarket
Product: Red Fuji Apples
Size: 80
Quantity: 500 boxes
License Plate: The same as the truck that left yesterday.
Chen Kang’s expression changed from anger to helplessness.
He scratched his already thinning hair and sighed.
“What are you doing?”
“The Jiangcheng customer wanted two hundred boxes of size 75. Look at the order you printed—five hundred boxes of size 80.”
Yang Min took the document and looked at it.
Her face immediately fell.
She bit her lip, and the anger she’d been suppressing for a long time finally burst out.
“Manager, it’s peak fruit season right now. I’m the only one handling messages in the customer groups, organizing orders, and creating and printing the documents.”
“From eight in the morning until five in the afternoon, I can’t take my eyes off the screen for ten hours.”
“There are more than thirty customer groups. Once the messages start coming in, there are dozens of them at a time. I have to read them one by one, organize everything into orders, and then double-check the product sizes and quantities.”
Her voice grew louder, and her eyes became slightly red.
“Yesterday from three to five in the afternoon, I processed more than ten orders in two hours.”
“I must have mixed up two customers’ orders.”
“How many times have I said I can’t keep up? I can’t keep up!”
“I asked you to hire someone, but you wouldn’t. If this continues, I won’t be able to do this job anymore either.”
Chen Kang looked somewhat awkward.
“Enough, enough. I’ll handle this. Go back to work.”
Yang Min didn’t move.
“Then what are we going to do about the order?”
“I’ll explain it to the customer. We’ll sell the extra three hundred boxes to them at cost, and the company will take the loss. Go back to work.”
Yang Min turned and left.
Chen Kang sighed and turned to the loader.
“Old Wang, it wasn’t your fault. Go get some rest.”
Old Wang nodded and went to lie down on the bench beneath the large industrial fan.
Chen Kang remained where he was, staring at the document in his hand.
His brows were furrowed so tightly they looked like they could crush a fly.
Song Kening had been standing beside them the entire time, watching everything from beginning to end.
Her gaze moved from the document in Chen Kang’s hand to Yang Min’s retreating figure inside the warehouse.
Orders.
Product specifications.
Quantities.
Customer group messages.
Creating and printing documents.
Those words dropped into her mind one by one, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.
In the real world, she had studied logistics and supply chain management.
After graduating, she had found a job as a purchasing planning and documentation clerk.
She hadn’t even started working before she transmigrated into this book, but she’d spent four years studying this field.
She knew this stuff well.
“Manager.”
Song Kening stepped forward.
Chen Kang turned around.
Only then did he notice that someone else was standing nearby—a young woman with her hair tied into a bun, holding a lunch box and a water bottle, her face reddened by the sun.
“You are?”
“I’m his wife.”
Song Kening pointed at Lu Zhiyu.
“Oh.”
Chen Kang nodded without much interest and was about to leave.
“Manager, are you hiring a documentation clerk?”
Chen Kang stopped.
He turned around and looked at her.
Lu Zhiyu also turned toward her, his brows slightly furrowed.
“What is your educational background?” Chen Kang asked as a routine question.
He hadn’t originally wanted to hire anyone.
To save labor costs, he felt the documentation team of three people was enough—one for the day shift, one for the night shift, and one floater to cover when needed.
The floater, Ma Keke, happened to be off today.
Song Kening took a deep breath.
“I didn’t finish school. I don’t have an educational qualification, but I know how to handle documents and orders.”
Chen Kang looked her up and down.
Song Kening noticed his hesitation and quickly added,
“Manager, but I’m pregnant.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t need social insurance or housing fund contributions. If anything happens, I’ll take responsibility myself. I can even sign a written agreement.”
She spoke quickly and clearly, as if she had already thought everything through.
Chen Kang’s expression softened slightly.
No social insurance or housing fund contributions, plus a written agreement taking responsibility for herself.
For a logistics park like this, the labor cost would indeed be very low.
“What is your relationship with Old Huang?”
“Old Huang?”
Song Kening finally realized that he meant their landlord, Huang Zhiqiang.
“We rent Uncle Huang’s place,” she explained. “He’s a really good person. When we were hospitalized and didn’t have enough money, he lent us some. We’ll remember this favor.”
Chen Kang was silent for a moment.
Then he looked down at the document in his hand.
“How about this.”
“Since you’re Xiao Lu’s wife and Old Huang recommended you, I’ll make an arrangement for you.”
“You won’t be formally hired by the company. We’ll have you work through a third-party labor agency.”
He paused.
“Come every afternoon from one to six. That’s when orders peak. There aren’t many orders in the morning, so Yang Min can manage on her own.”
“You’ll come in during the afternoon and help take some of the workload off her. It’ll be considered part-time work.”
“Two thousand five hundred yuan a month. No social insurance, no housing fund, and no other benefits.”
“If you’re okay with that, then you’re hired. If not, there’s nothing I can do.”
2,500 yuan a month.
Song Kening quickly calculated it in her head.
Two thousand five hundred would just about cover their rent and food.
That meant Lu Zhiyu’s entire salary could be saved.
Besides, she only had to work five hours a day—from 1 p.m. to 6 p.m.
She could still bring him lunch at noon and wouldn’t be late preparing dinner.
Lu Zhiyu had been listening beside her.
He reached out and tugged lightly at her arm.
“Your body hasn’t recovered yet.”
Song Kening turned to him.
“It’s an office job. It’s not tiring, and there’s air conditioning. I’ll just be sitting at a computer processing orders.”
“The doctor said—”
Lu Zhiyu had barely started speaking when she interrupted him.
“The doctor said I was malnourished and had low blood sugar. I’ll just eat more and I’ll be fine.”
“My 2,500 yuan can cover our rent and food expenses. Then you can save all your wages and use them as capital later.”
“And I can conveniently come here to bring you lunch at noon. You won’t have to go back and forth.”
“The schedule is perfect. It’s only a half-day shift.”
Lu Zhiyu looked at her.
Her eyes were bright.
There was something in them that felt strangely familiar to him.
It wasn’t scheming.
It was the determination of someone saying:
I have to keep this life going.
He said nothing more.
Song Kening turned to Chen Kang and smiled.
“Manager, that’s fine. Can I start right now?”
“Sure. Come with me to HR first and sign the agreement.”
“Okay! Thank you, Manager.”
As soon as Song Kening finished speaking, she handed the insulated lunch box and shoebox to Lu Zhiyu.
“Find somewhere to put these. I’ll come back after I finish the paperwork.”
Lu Zhiyu watched her thin figure walk away.
His expression was complicated.
There was shock—shock that this Song Kening, who supposedly hadn’t even finished elementary school, actually knew how to handle these things.
And there was guilt.
Guilt that she was carrying his child yet still had to cook for him and take a part-time job, all so that he could save enough money to eventually start over.