Chapter 138: A Deal in the Rain Shelter

The first step to making a Yi Stone protective shell was casting the mold.

This skill was far too advanced—Xia Qing had no idea how to do it, so she called Uncle Huo, who ran a blacksmith shop back in the Safe Zone.

After getting an earful that left her ears ringing, Uncle Huo finally agreed to help, promising to make two spherical molds—one about the size of an egg, the other like a walnut.

Actually, they could’ve gone smaller, but making tinier molds needed even better craftsmanship and Uncle Huo’s prices shot up. Xia Qing didn’t have enough points in her account, and there wasn’t much left in her territory she could trade with. She simply couldn’t afford it.

Of course, Xia Qing never let on that she planned to use the molds for Yi Stones. She just said they were for raising evolved crickets.

Evolved crickets had razor-sharp jaws—wooden or bamboo cages couldn’t hold them at all.

Following Luo Pei’s instructions for making the shells and using Uncle Huo’s molds, Xia Qing worked hard for two days, finally churning out fifteen large and fifteen small Yi Stone protective shells.

Her shells were rougher than the one Luo Pei wore, but Xia Qing was thrilled all the same.

She loaded three Yi Stones into a large shell and went to share her excitement with Boss Sheep. “Look, Boss. Isn’t this great? Next time it rains Xiang, just wear one of these and you won’t need a protective mask.”

Boss Sheep, sprawled out on the tatami, glanced at the black lump in Xia Qing’s hand, expressionless, and kept lazily chewing his cud.

“You have no taste,” Xia Qing grumbled, picking up her shells one by one. “This one’s good. This one’s polished evenly… I’ll keep it for myself after I finish buffing.”

Xia Qing wanted so much to have someone share her joy. Boss Sheep didn’t get it. Maybe she should go show off to that clever wolf lurking by the sheep shed?

“Bzzz—”

Before she could head out, her phone rang. To her surprise, it was a message from Yang Jin, the leader of the Azure Dragon Unit. He wanted to discuss a trade.

When did he get back? Xia Qing shot off a two-word reply: “Sure thing.”

Yang Jin replied in a flash: “Are you in your territory now? Can I come by in half an hour?”

…

So urgent?

Fine then.

Xia Qing replied: “Sure. Let’s meet at 4:10 at the little house beside the rain shelter, south of the reservoir in Territory Three.”

Seeing the message, Yang Jin stared at the location for a couple seconds before finally sending a single word: “Okay.”

Negotiating with this iron rooster always took brainpower. Xia Qing pulled out a pen and paper, listing out what she needed and what she had to offer, along with her minimum acceptable prices. Then she packed everything up and hurried off to the rendezvous point.

As the territory owner, she arrived five minutes early, tidied up the little house a bit, then set out a teapot, along with some fresh ground-cherry berries and wild grapes on a small wooden table.

She had just finished making the place look a bit like a proper meeting room when she heard footsteps. Looking north, she spotted Yang Jin approaching in a camo protective suit and a mask.

Once Yang Jin came in and took off his mask, Xia Qing realized that in just over two months, he’d tanned two whole shades darker.

Guess his latest trip took him up into the mountains or down to the sea—only the UV up there or out there could burn you like that.

Yang Jin checked out the little house and grinned. “This place is sturdy. Really practical.”

With his new tan, his neat white teeth practically gleamed when he smiled. The whole vibe was just so sunny it could make anyone a little dizzy.

Xia Qing shrugged it off, “I just tossed it together so I could take care of the crops more easily. Good enough for now. Please, have a seat, Captain Yang.”

Yang Jin sat down, eyeing the fruit and teapot on the table, looking serious. “It’s already very nice.”

Nice? Compared to what?

Xia Qing racked her brain for a second, suddenly realizing what kind of comparison Yang Jin was making—the broken-down hut they’d used for their first trade out in that ruined village.

Okay, fair enough. It really was miles better than that dump. Still, something about Yang Jin’s tone felt just a little… off.

Xia Qing poured him a cup of tea and explained, “There’s a wolf recovering from injuries in my courtyard. I was worried the whole pack might get riled up if you came by, so I invited you here instead. Your throat sounds scratchy—have some tea, it’ll help.”

“Thank you.”

Just back from the seaside, Yang Jin’s voice was raspy and his eyes bloodshot. But if you made it through a disaster year without serious wounds, poisoning, or deadly mutant bacteria, it was nothing worth fussing about.

Still, Xia Qing’s attention to his sore throat made Yang Jin genuinely happy.

Last time he came, she was worried he’d spook her sheep and brought him out to that ramshackle hut. This time, she thought he might alarm the injured wolf and moved him to this little house.

Next time, would something else keep him outside?

Yang Jin started to look forward to their next meeting. “Luo Ge told me one of those wolves is brain-evolved and has a hip injury?”

“Yeah, it’s the one that attacked the Breeding Center the second time. It’s close with the first wolf that came. The leader of Territory Seven personally did surgery—just needs time to recover.”

After Xia Qing finished, she nudged the fruit plate toward Yang Jin. “Try some of my territory’s wild berries, Captain Yang. The purple-red ones are green-light ground-cherry, the black ones are wild grapes. Those are yellow-light.”

Yang Jin picked up some wild grapes and popped a few into his mouth, and his face said it all—he loved them. “I used to eat these on the mountain when I was a kid. Back home, we called them wild grapes. If the yellow-light ones are this good, the green-lights must be even better.”

Xia Qing agreed—the green-lights had to be tastier. “But if you want the green-lights, you’re out of luck. Today they’re reserved for trading with chicks.”

“Used a ton of points for Zhang San to operate on the evolved wolf, didn’t you?” Yang Jin’s gaze fell on Xia Qing’s much-healthier skin, his smile gentle.

Yang Jin’s smile was infectious. For a moment, it felt like being pulled back to those calm, peaceful days before the disasters struck.

But Xia Qing didn’t feel any of that peaceful nostalgia—just that this iron rooster was pulling out the charm before they’d even started negotiating.

No matter how good his smile, that stuff didn’t work on her!

She took a sip of tea to steady herself before answering, “Yeah. One hundred and fifty thousand.”

Yang Jin clearly loved the wild grapes—he picked another small bunch and ate them slowly. “Luo Ge said you didn’t tell Zhang San about the Yi Stone, so you paid with spinach seeds instead?”

Xia Qing nodded and gave her asking price. “Yep. One spinach seed, one hundred points.”

No matter how dazzling your smile, that’s my bottom line.

Yang Jin got the message—and his smile grew even brighter. “Green-light spinach seeds, with six parts per ten thousand of Yi element, priced at one hundred points a seed. Sounds fair. Could the Azure Dragon Unit trade at that rate, too?”

He’s got good sense!

Xia Qing answered seriously, “Sure. But I’ve already planted all my seeds, so you’ll have to wait about three months. How many do you want, Captain Yang?”

Yang Jin was decisive: “However many you have, I’ll take them all.”

Xia Qing nodded again and laid out her own terms. “I need gasoline, diesel, ammo, grenades and a diesel generator.”

These were things she couldn’t get—even if she found some for trade, the Azure Dragon Unit’s supplies were way better quality. That’s why Xia Qing chose to deal with them.

The poisoning incident at Plot Nine and waves of refugees from the south left Xia Qing unsettled. She wanted more weapons, just in case.

Yang Jin was all business. “Deal. How much of each do you want?”

Xia Qing rattled off her prepped numbers. “Four buckets of gasoline, four of diesel, one generator, a thousand rounds for the submachine pistol, five hundred for the sniper rifle, and twenty grenades.”

Back in March, Xia Qing had traded spring water with Yang Jin for three guns and nine hundred rounds. At the time, she’d thought nine hundred bullets was an insane amount. After just over two months’ target practice, she’d almost shot through the lot.

She once asked Luo Pei how many bullets it’d take to get good.

Luo Pei said that before the disasters, it took the military three years and fifty to ninety thousand rounds to train a crack marksman. But Xia Qing was a high-level triple-system evolver with much better aptitude than people from back then. If she put in the work, she’d only need a year and ten thousand bullets to make it.

Ten thousand rounds! If not for her high-value stuff—like pollution-free spring water and green-light spinach with the Yi element—if she’d heard that number, she’d have just given up.