The weasel doesn't wish the chickens a Happy New Year.

New Year greetings are too troublesome. Now they’ve changed their tactics.
On the cliff where chickens often forage, two signs are erected:
One reads: If you don't work hard to spread your wings and fly high, how can you know you're not an eagle?
The other says: Only by giving your all can you avoid regrets.
And so, the weasel lives a luxurious life beneath the cliff, enjoying meat and wine every day.
Because every day, countless chickens fall from the cliff, often badly injured—some with broken arms, some with broken legs, and some with concussions.
Day after day, year after year, countless chickens, through their own efforts, daring attempts, and self-breakthroughs,
finally become delicacies in the weasel’s mouth.