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With fresh trash arriving, the scavengers who had already returned to the community swarmed over, hoping to rummage out some valuable scrap.

Song Xiaozhu did not join the crowd. A red exclamation mark flashed before her eyes, in the upper right of her field of vision, about the size of a finger.

Where was the danger?

Song Xiaozhu remained on edge, constantly guarding against any "intruders" that might appear.

She dragged the large burlap sack Bai Jing had given her, with over fifty plastic bottles inside, intending to exchange them for money at the recycling station. But now her heart was pounding with unease. She did not want to go to the recycling station at all; she just wanted to hurry back to the shack.

But how would she explain going back to the shack?

Without any proof, Bai Jing would not believe her if she said there were "intruders."

Song

Xiaozhu touched her chest, where she kept the randomly synthesized "milk candy" and the hunter's skinning knife.

"Phew..." Song Xiaozhu took a deep breath and steadied her heartbeat.

Being scared would not help. She would deal with whatever came her way. At least she now had a piece of milk candy that could paralyze a target's body and an exceptionally sharp knife. Together with the exclamation mark's warning, she was already somewhat prepared.

Song Xiaozhu hesitated no longer. She tightened the mouth of the large burlap sack and strode toward the recycling station in the north of the district.

The scavenger community was not large. Built around Ink City's waste processing center, it was essentially a village outside the city.

The community had one main road, just wide enough for ordinary trucks to pass along, and the households living on either side were all fairly well-off by the community's standards.

They were the earliest scavengers, making their living from scavenging ever since Ink City first settled here.

Unlike "independents" such as Song Xiaozhu, they had small workshops of their own, allowing them to process trash in bulk. With strength in numbers, they could also collect larger, more valuable scrap.

And these residents' greatest dream was to buy a "Fairness Card," use it to enter Ink City, and become citizens within the fortress.

How expensive was an Ink City "Fairness Card"?

Song Xiaozhu did not know. She only knew that most of those small workshops had worked for three generations, from grandparents to grandchildren, without managing to obtain a single "Fairness Card."

The scavenger community had four scrap recycling stations, named for their locations, one each in the east, south, west, and north.

These four recycling stations were "official," enjoying the district chief's recognition and protection. Not only did they offer standardized recycling prices, but they also sold certain daily necessities at standardized prices.

Their buying prices were very low, and their selling prices very high.

Secondhand tools that could be resold immediately, in particular, were priced at least five times higher than what they paid for them.

They dared to set such prices because they had nothing to fear-the community strictly prohibited private trading.

Under the pretext of protecting the community, District Chief Old Madam Hu kept a group of strong, sturdy drifters whose daily work consisted of collecting rent and policing the scavengers. Anyone caught trading privately faced a fine at best and a savage beating at worst.

Here at the trash mountain, pollution was heavy and lives were cheap. Quite a few people had died that way.

District Chief Old Madam Hu was practically the local emperor of this little society.

However strict the controls, they could not stop the lure of profit. People still traded in secret, but an "outsider" like Song Xiaozhu had no way of accessing those dealings.

Besides, Song Xiaozhu only had a few plastic bottles on hand. They were hardly worth the risk of an illicit trade, so she obediently went to the north district recycling station, the closest one to Bai Jing's shack.

The recycling station was usually quite lively at this hour, but today it was deserted. Only a few people were hurrying out, and Song Xiaozhu was the only one heading in.

The stationmaster of the north district recycling station was a middle-aged man. He wore a fairly respectable Zhongshan suit, his hair was neatly combed back, and a pair of nonprescription glasses rested on his nose. He habitually looked at people out of the corners of his eyes.

His surname was Xia, his given name Fengshou, and everyone called him Stationmaster Xia.

Xia Fengshou gave Song Xiaozhu a sidelong glance, then continued clicking his abacus and sorting through his accounts.

This was not Song Xiaozhu's first visit. She was no pampered former tycoon's daughter. Although the wasteland's terrible environment had shaken her worldview, she was an adult, after all, and understood that survival meant adapting.

She said gently, "Stationmaster Xia, there are fifty-six plastic bottles here. I've already flattened and sorted them. Would you count them?"

Xia Fengshou did not even look up. "Fifty-six?"

Song Xiaozhu paused.

Xia Fengshou said, "Fifty, surely."

Song Xiaozhu said, "Yes, fifty. I counted wrong."

Xia Fengshou nodded in satisfaction. "Put them in the crate out back." As he spoke, he spat on his fingertips and counted out fifty cents for Song Xiaozhu.

Song Xiaozhu took the money and carefully tucked it into her pocket.

She looked at the shelves behind Xia Fengshou. Secondhand tools hung there: hoes, axes, wood saws, and iron shovels. Even the cheapest cost five yuan, while the most expensive wood saw cost a full twenty.

In the scavenger community, a wood saw was definitely more than something for sawing wood. It was a fearsome weapon.

Far more formidable than the skinning knife tucked against her chest.

Below the shelves was a storage cabinet containing several burlap sacks. In descending order of price, they held refined rice and flour, mixed-grain flour, and wild vegetable paste. There was also a small cabinet containing oil, salt, tea, and vinegar. These were even more expensive, far exceeding the prices in the world Song Xiaozhu came from. Salt, especially, cost even more than refined rice and flour.

The recycling station also sold meat, but only at certain times. It was both expensive and scarce, a food scavengers did not even dare dream of.

The trash mountain was too polluted for hunting to be much of a possibility. Even if someone found a rotten steak thrown out of the city, no one dared eat it. Dying of poisoning would be getting off lightly; unbearable agony was even more frightening.

"Well, if it isn't the kid Master Bai picked up?"

A flippant voice rang out, and Song Xiaozhu's back went rigid.

The newcomer was named Shang Bao, a notorious street loafer in the community. Relying on his family's small workshop, he idled away his days and never did any real work. He circled around in front of Song Xiaozhu and sized her up. "I thought he'd picked up a boy. Turns out it's a girl."

His narrow eyes settled on Song Xiaozhu, like insects crawling over her.

Song Xiaozhu avoided his gaze and said to Xia Fengshou in a roughened voice, "Stationmaster Xia, I'll be going now. Grandpa's waiting for me to get back and cook."

Xia Fengshou gave a noncommittal grunt.