"Yes, Mistress, it's all done. They should be here soon." Just as Fang Qing finished speaking, someone knocked on the back door.
He immediately went to open the door and saw a few young beggars walking in. The group leader asked, "Brother Fang, we're here. Do you mean what you said?"
"Of course, two pounds of polished rice per person." Fang Qing affirmed and looked at Zhou Ying. "Our boss is here. If you don't believe me, you can ask her."
"That's right. We agreed on two pounds per person. Why don't we give it to you now? " Zhou Ying said.
"No need, but can you change it to black noodles? That way, we can eat for a longer time."
"No problem, three pounds of black noodles each, and I'll give you one pound of lard as a gift."
"Then it's settled." The leader immediately agreed, then turned around and pulled Fang Qing to ask for the brochure, as if he feared she would return on her words.