The moment Li Daoxuan's "heaven-sent pork meteorite" landed in the middle of Gaojia Village, the entire populace erupted in joy. Villagers swarmed toward the meat distribution like locusts toward a rice field—except this time they had something new: order.
Ever since Thirty-Two arrived, the formerly free-range, chaos-certified Gaojia Village had slowly developed the faint outline of "organization." Not quite the Ming provincial bureaucracy—but at least people now formed lines voluntarily instead of wrestling over food like hungry boars.
Gao Yiye stood at the front as the holy "enforcer," maintaining discipline by reminding the villagers that Tianzun is watching you, which worked far better than any dynasty's anti-corruption bureau ever managed.
Thirty-Two, acting as the village's de facto magistrate, presided with a ledger and a wooden scale:"Gao Wuchu, step forward. Cut two taels. Next.""Gao Laba—two taels.""Wang Ergou—two taels, and don't pretend the slice shrank on the way to your bowl.""Zhong Datou—finished.""Zheng A'niu—take yours."
One by one, more than a hundred villagers passed through, receiving their portion. Only after the crowd thinned did Thirty-Two distribute to the "management team"—Gao Yiye, Gao Junior High, and other key members. This, in bureaucratic terms, was called "maintaining morale." In villager terms, "it's only fair the leaders get a bit more for the trouble."
Next came the two sculptors. They'd been fidgeting the entire time—watching every villager leave with pork while they, the heroes of the Buddha statue, remained empty-handed. The suspense was killing them more than starvation ever did.
Gao Yiye finally beckoned."Come. The rest of the pork… is all your reward."
The two sculptors froze, jaws dropping so violently one could hear the hinges creak. The "remaining pork" was still the size of two washbasins—dozens of catties at least.
Gao Chuwu—who had gained newfound confidence from cutting meat all day—split the tenderloin down the middle with a theatrical swing."Half for each of you."
"Th-this much? For us? Everyone else only got two taels!" the sculptors stammered.
Gao Yiye declared, with the solemnity of a minister conveying an imperial edict,"Tianzun is very pleased with your Buddha statue. This is your special commendation."
The two immediately knelt, kowtowing like they were trying to dig a tunnel through the packed earth."Thank you! Thank you, Saintess! Thank you, Tianzun!"
Thirty-Two added sternly, "And henceforth, work even harder. Serve Tianzun with loyalty, heart, and steady hands."
"Yes! Yes! We will carve for Tianzun until our fingers fall off!"
Artisans in the real world carved temples and statues for rich families and received, at most, a bowl of millet or a handful of coppers. Never—absolutely never—did they receive pork that could feed half the village. Their hearts swelled, their backpacks swelled, and their future bartering prospects with envious villagers swelled even more.
Of course… one problem remained: fresh pork lasts only two days.
Thirty-Two tossed them two bags of salt."Go cure bacon."
Their joy reached divine levels. They raced home screaming,"Mother! Eldest! Second! We're rich! The ancestors are smiling!"
Smoke rose soon after as pine branches burned behind the village. The entire village—stretched-necked like gossiping geese—looked on, thinking:When will it be my turn to receive such divine rewards?
That's human nature.When starving, all you want is a bite.Once full, you want more than others.And once you have more, you want status, praise, and a reason to feel morally superior.
Even in Heaven's miniature village, bureaucracy grows naturally—like mold on steamed buns.
But of course, there were exceptions.Such as Zheng Daniu from Zhengjia Village.
After his two-tael pork feast, he lay flat on the ground, rubbing his round belly with philosophical satisfaction."Everyone's full, right? So why keep working? Why climb? Isn't it good to lie down?"
Yes, he was seconds away from inventing Ming-era "lying flatism."
But then—he remembered the divine beverage.Fat House Happy Water.The one drop of cola that changed his worldview.
"No… no lying flat. I want Heaven's reward. I want another drink!"
He leapt up, grabbed an axe, and sprinted into the forest like a man possessed.
Before long, a tree fell with a thunderous crack. Daniu chopped off a massive section—almost two meters long—and rolled it back to the village.
"Saintess! Look! I brought a perfect log! Useful for carving, right? Tianzun will approve, right?"
Gao Yiye glanced upward, listening for Li Daoxuan's divine commentary. After a moment, she smiled warmly."Zheng Daniu, Tianzun praises your effort."
Daniu nearly exploded with joy.
Gao Yiye continued, "And Tianzun is willing to reward you with—"
Before she could finish, Daniu blurted out desperately,"M-my lady, this villain… doesn't want meat. I just… I just want… one sip… just ONE SIP of Fat House Happy Water!"
Even Gao Yiye was startled. Then she laughed."Tianzun says: agreed. Do you have a washbasin at home? Bring it."
Zheng Daniu sprinted home, returning with a tiny wooden basin—barely 3 mm across from Li Daoxuan's perspective.
He held it reverently. One drop of coke descended like a comet.
And immediately overflowed.
"I can't hold it! Too much! It's spilling! It's going into the ground! Heavens, it's leaking into the earth!"
Thirty-Two snapped, "It's YOUR basin that's tiny! Stop crying and get out!"
Li Daoxuan, observing from the real world, learned two valuable lessons:
One:There's a forest near the village—good for future projects, though the visibility still doesn't reach that far.
Two:In the future, villagers must bring their own containers for divine gifts. Saves resources. Prevents tragic cola-overflow incidents.
Efficiency, order, resource management—Gaojia Village was becoming a miniature empire.Not quite Ming-level, of course.But certainly better run.
After all—lying flat is impossible.Not when divine cola exists.