The Prices Need to Go Up

Manhattan, southeast of Central Park, on a street corner by the zoo.

A police car was parked at the curb, with two neighborhood cops eating breakfast inside. Diagonally across from them was the food truck Lin Rui had driven over.

"This sandwich is good." One cop held it by the wrapper and took a big, piping-hot bite. The toasted aroma of salmon mingled with the wheaty fragrance of sliced bread, filling his mouth with rich, fatty flavor.

His partner took a sip from an extra-large milkshake and nodded in praise as well. "This shake isn't sweet, but it has plenty of fruit pulp. I like that fine, grainy texture. Really smooth."

The first cop pointed toward the food truck. "Look, people are lining up to buy from them. They're doing pretty well."

Around eight in the morning, crowds of tourists from every corner of the world appeared in the neighborhood, ready to visit Central Park. Many hadn't eaten breakfast yet, and naturally gathered when they saw a food truck by the road.

Linda, who handled orders and payments, had a pretty face, a lovely figure, and a warm smile that readily won the tourists over. The register chimed in her hands, opening and closing as she took money and gave change.

"Two banana milkshakes and two sweet-and-spicy crispy chicken wraps. Eight dollars total."

"Next, what would you like? A beef and mushroom burger, correct? Would you like a drink? Our fruit milkshakes are great."

"Please take your order number and wait for us to call it."

Inside the truck, Lin Rui was busy as a spinning top, constantly turning behind the cramped prep counter.

He had to take the prepared food from the insulated boxes and heat it in the microwaves as quickly as possible, or grab cups and fill them with milkshakes from the drink dispenser.

"Linda, wipe the beef and mushroom burger off the menu. We're out."

"What do you mean? That's our best-selling item right now, and you're telling me it's gone? Didn't you stock more?"

"How much stock we get isn't up to me." Lin Rui stepped out from behind the counter and answered in a low voice. But a glance at the line outside made him sigh. "Damn it, business is too good."

What the truck could sell depended on what Mrs. Jones provided, which in turn depended on what the supermarket had left over. Lin Rui had no say in it.

But running out of their flagship product before the morning was even over was unacceptable, no matter how he looked at it.

Gritting his teeth, Lin Rui pulled out his phone and made a call, giving orders in a low voice. "Toby, go to Pastor Essen Borg's church right now and bring the relief meals set aside for the homeless to Central Park.

"What will the homeless eat? What the hell does that have to do with us? Let them get food from other relief stations.

"Of course, be polite about it. You need the old pastor's permission. Figure out how yourself."

After hanging up, Lin Rui went back to work. Before long, he had to tell Linda again, "We're out of banana milkshakes. Cross them off the menu."

Linda was having a wonderful time at the register. The feeling of constantly taking in money and making a profit was exhilarating. Especially when customers praised the food she recommended-it left her feeling as blissfully satisfied as an orgasm.

Banana milkshakes were another flagship product, with the highest sales and the best reviews. Finding out they were out of stock made Linda turn and glare at Lin Rui several times.

"Do you know how much we've made so far?" Linda wanted to stir up Lin Rui's fighting spirit and imagination.

"About two hundred dollars?" Lin Rui looked at the three food storage boxes that were already empty and roughly estimated their sales.

"Over three hundred already." Linda gritted her teeth. "The lunch rush is coming. Don't tell me we'll have to pack up and go home then."

Because New York was unsafe at night, street vendors did their best business at noon. Food vendors in particular had to capture the lunch crowd if they wanted to make money.

But they were out of stock!

Even the cleverest cook couldn't make a meal without rice.

Around ten thirty, Toby found them in his father's car, parked near the food truck, and unloaded four large insulated boxes.

Lin Rui helped drag the boxes into the truck, then had Toby take the empty ones away, asking in passing, "How did you get the old pastor to agree?"

Toby answered in a muffled voice, "I didn't ask Pastor Borg. He definitely wouldn't have agreed."

"So... how did you get these relief supplies?" Lin Rui asked.

"Stole them." Toby sounded perfectly justified. "I stole from more than one church relief station. When the people handing out meals weren't looking, I carried the boxes to the car."

"Wow, what a simple solution." Linda exclaimed beside them. "I have to write that down. Readers will love it. Oh, Toby, you do have a driver's license, right?"

"I'm six foot five and weigh over three hundred pounds. Who do you think would assume I don't have a license?" Toby glanced at the people lined up outside the truck to collect their food. "Business good?"

"Very good," Linda answered. "We've made five hundred dollars in one morning."

Hearing "five hundred," Toby froze for a moment before asking, "So there's hope for my dad's medical bills?"

Lin Rui and Linda nodded together. Linda added, "The lunch rush is almost here, but we're facing a shortage of things to sell."

Toby paused again, his mind racing. He asked Linda for fifty dollars and immediately turned to leave, calling out, "Wait here. I'll go get you more stock right now."

"Don't get into trouble," Lin Rui called after him worriedly.

"Got it." Toby jogged back to his car.

"The quality can't be too bad," Lin Rui called again.

"Trust me, I wouldn't gamble with my father's life." Before he had finished speaking, Toby hit the gas and drove off.

Watching the Black boy disappear, Lin Rui murmured, "If only he showed this much initiative with his studies."

Starting at eleven in the morning, tourists enjoying themselves around Central Park began feeling ravenous and looking everywhere for food.

But every inch of land in Manhattan was worth its weight in gold. Restaurants with actual storefronts were often incredibly expensive; casually stepping inside for a meal could cost over a hundred dollars. Not everyone could afford that.

More customers began choosing street vendors. But even street stalls had their own hierarchy.

The simplest street stalls really were just a few tables pushed together, with some grilled sausages or the like set out for sale. Slightly better ones had a cart with shelves and could provide some hot food.

The best were naturally food trucks, equipped with freezers, cabinets, and microwaves, with facilities for frying, juicing, and cleaning, as well as plenty of storage space.

Tourists would at least look around and pick somewhere that appealed to them before spending their money. If a food truck also had folding tables and chairs nearby where they could rest, that made it an even better choice.

As the crowds surged in, a line of more than a dozen people formed in front of Lin Rui's truck. Linda's register chimed nonstop, practically throwing sparks.

The two high-powered microwaves inside never stopped. They had to heat several portions at once to meet demand.

Before the crowds reached their peak, Toby drove back again, bringing six or seven large food storage boxes.

Lin Rui knew the goods couldn't have come from anywhere legitimate. While carrying them, he couldn't help looking around like a thief, afraid someone might be watching.

Linda caught Toby's hand and asked quietly, "Where did this stuff come from? Don't tell me you went around stealing again?"

"Of course not." Toby wore a look that said she was underestimating him. "Stealing is too much trouble. Takes too long. I used fifty dollars to hire five friends, and we went straight to the relief stations and robbed them."

Pfft... Lin Rui had been snatching a moment to drink some water and nearly spat it out at that-robbery? That was far worse than stealing.

Linda, however, looked thrilled. "Wow, that certainly is a solution. Was anyone hurt? Did anyone try to stop you?"

"What, do you think relief stations are heavily guarded places? There are only some volunteers and churchgoers. As long as we move fast, they don't even have time to react."

Toby was exceedingly pleased with himself.

Lin Rui opened one of the insulated boxes and couldn't help swearing. "A KFC Family Bucket? Linda, put two new items on the menu. We've got fried chicken and fries now, with Coke."

Linda was quite happy, feeling as though she had taken part in some sort of crime. It was incredibly exciting.

Lin Rui removed the KFC packaging and split up the Family Buckets to sell separately-and, sure enough, they sold quite well. The customers in line weren't dissatisfied at all; they were actually quite happy.

Toby took another fifty dollars and went elsewhere to recruit more people, continuing to rob relief stations of the homeless people's lunches.

This certainly wasn't the Black boy's first time doing something like this. From recruiting people and identifying targets to rushing in to rob them and driving away, he was thoroughly practiced.

The relief stations that were robbed could only lament their bad luck, helpless to do anything.

Even if they called the police, the officers wouldn't do anything when they arrived. After all, it was just a bunch of homeless people going hungry. No one cared whether they lived or died.

Plenty of people even felt it would be better if all the homeless starved to death, so order could return to the streets.

By the end of the lunch rush, Lin Rui and Linda were both exhausted. Working without a break felt awful. Space inside the truck was limited, so adding more hands wouldn't solve the problem.

"Leon, I'm hungry. Get me a Big Mac. I could absolutely swallow one in a single bite," Linda called weakly from behind the register.

"We don't have any Big Macs," Lin Rui answered.

"What about chicken wraps? Or sandwiches? Whatever it is, give me something to eat, or I'll starve." Linda turned around, only to discover that every storage box beneath the prep counter was empty.

"We sold everything?"

"Yes."

Lin Rui had no choice but to take off his apron, put up the closed sign, and take some money from the register. He went a few hundred meters to another nearby stall and bought two burgers to bring back.

But when he bit into the burger he had bought, the food in his mouth had neither fragrance nor juices. It was nothing but two dry pieces of bread around a cold piece of meat, with a few pickle slices inside.

"Damn, this thing costs five dollars?" Lin Rui was stunned. His first reaction was that he had been badly ripped off. "More expensive than mine and worse quality, and they can still make money?"

In that instant, Lin Rui understood why his food truck was doing so well. It was because the food he sold came from a supermarket deli.

The customers at supermarkets like Whole Foods were all middle-class people from the neighborhood. Poor quality would certainly ruin their reputation, so even food nearing its expiration date was carefully prepared, with ingredients that wouldn't be too bad.

Actual street stalls used the worst ingredients and the poorest cooking skills to cut costs, and could hardly rework the food on-site the way a food truck could.

"My burgers are too cheap. The prices need to go up!"