The village had a bumper apple harvest, and if we didn’t sell them soon, the bugs and birds would eat them all. I immediately put sales of my company’s farm produce on hold and helped the villagers sell their apples first. But after working hard for a while, they came to my door and called me an ingrate. “You pocket thirty cents per pound. That adds up to hundreds of thousands for the whole village, and he didn’t have to do a thing to make all that money!” “We thought he was a good person, but he’s a little bastard! Pay us back! Get on your knees and apologize to the whole village!” My mom tried to protect me out of concern, but they beat her so badly she fell into a coma. To get her to the hospital as quickly as possible, I swallowed my humiliation, knelt down, and signed an agreement to pay compensation. Fine. Let all the apples on these hills rot and feed the birds. If I won’t buy them, let’s see who else they can sell them to!
