"Heh heh, Boss Jiang, does this one meet your needs?"
The weather in the wasteland was as erratic as ever. Though it was summer, the chill of late autumn sometimes seeped through, brought on by the dense layers of radioactive dust that blocked most ultraviolet rays. Such anomalies had become the norm in this world. If the radioactive clouds above lingered, the temperature could plummet further, making mornings especially bitter.
Jiang Chen stood with one hand in his coat pocket and the other holding a résumé. The man beside him, a balding, portly figure who looked old enough to be Jiang's father, was grinning obsequiously, nodding and bowing with every word.
In this survivor camp driven by absolute freedom and capitalism, those with crystals were kings. While no one was quite sure of Jiang Chen's background, upsetting a paying customer would certainly earn you a harsh reckoning from your employer. And Jiang Chen had an air of authority that hinted at a significant identity.
Following Sun Jiao's advice, Jiang Chen had crafted a fictional backstory for himself—the general manager of Fishbone Canned Foods Company. In the wasteland, apart from the leaders of major factions, the most powerful individuals were either arms dealers or food producers. Both industries thrived on exorbitant profits, as most of the land was no longer arable.
The name "Fishbone" wasn't random—it was simply convenient. Most of the canned goods Jiang Chen brought with him were from the Fishbone brand. He'd even started to consider whether, once he earned enough crystals, he should outright buy the company to save himself the trouble of constantly scrubbing off the production dates with sandpaper.
"Zhang Tianyu," Jiang Chen read aloud, "former vice president of Walker Tech, specialized in economic management and electronic product R&D. Led the development of the wildly popular Walker P7 smartphone in Asia..." He smirked. "A VP, huh? How ironic."
Clearing his throat, he looked at the recruiter. "Mr. Wang Yi, I'm looking for someone skilled in computing, with the strength to handle some physical labor. And you bring me... a vice president?"
As impressive as the résumé was, Jiang Chen rejected it without hesitation. Strategic planning and corporate management were utterly useless to him.
He couldn't deny a small thrill of satisfaction at discarding the so-called "executive"—though he kept his expression neutral.
"My apologies, my apologies! Please wait a moment!" Wang Yi, the manager of the talent market, quickly bowed and scrambled back into the storage room to continue searching.
Sighing, Jiang Chen turned his gaze to the slum's inhabitants. Many were dressed in tattered clothes, some clinging to the remnants of family life. Able-bodied men and women would labor in the industrial district in exchange for a few cheap nutrient syringes and a speck of iodine, eking out a meager existence.
If illness struck…
Jiang Chen glanced up at the radioactive clouds in the sky, filtering the sun into a sickly hue.
Before long, Wang Yi returned, panting, with a stack of résumés in hand. The papers bore traces of dust, hurriedly wiped clean. High-tech talents weren't scarce in the wasteland—in fact, there was an excess. Producing bullets didn't require advanced skills, and no one had the luxury to buy new computers or smartphones.
Jiang Chen flipped through the résumés, occasionally frowning.
"Boss Jiang, is there... something wrong?" Wang Yi asked cautiously. His commission—and livelihood—depended on this.
"Some of these people have the right skills, but..." Jiang Chen pointed to a section on the résumés labeled "Criminal Record." "Why are all of them criminals?"
He read aloud:
Lu Haitao, IT professional. Convicted of stealing 15 nutrient syringes. Sentenced to 10 years, laboring in an organic synthesis plant.Li Kaiming, former project manager at Flytek Technology. Convicted of armed hostage-taking. Sentenced to 17 years, laboring in a bullet factory.
Wang Yi's face contorted into a grimace, more pitiful than apologetic. His voice lowered to an almost pleading tone.
"Boss Jiang, there's nothing I can do about that..."
After Wang Yi's explanation, Jiang Chen finally understood.
Not everyone in the slums was truly free. Refugees who accepted government aid essentially became the property of the Sixth District, akin to serfs in the old world. Those deemed fit for labor were forced into factories, while the rest were treated as expendable population reserves—fodder for the battlefield if needed.
Free refugees were the exception, eking out a living without government support.
To manage overpopulation, the Sixth District had turned to selling surplus refugees through "agents." These individuals, sold like commodities, often ended up as bait for mercenary squads or expendable tools for traders. Their fates were rarely kind.
Jiang Chen found himself in a dilemma. Both categories of refugees—criminals and the frail—were problematic.
"The criminals are fitted with electronic collars," Wang Yi reassured him. "If they try anything dangerous, well..." He mimed an explosion with his hands, grinning.
Though still uneasy, Jiang Chen decided he had little choice. Sighing, he resumed sifting through the files.
Suddenly, a cold, mechanical voice came from the gate: "Prisoner 010342, stop immediately, or you will be terminated."
Jiang Chen turned to see a small, frail figure clinging to his leg.
"Sorry for eavesdropping, but I know computers! Please, take me with you!" The girl's voice was frantic, her eyes flickering with fear and desperation.
Instinctively, Jiang Chen's hand moved toward his weapon, but a soldier signaled for him to remain calm, training his rifle on the girl.
The soldier yanked her away like a ragdoll. Jiang Chen frowned but stayed silent, wary of her intentions.
"Apologies, Boss Jiang," Wang Yi said hurriedly, bowing. "The slums are full of fools rushing to their deaths."
Jiang Chen noted the red-lighted wristband on the girl—a tracking device for refugees. If she left the slums, the alarm would summon guards to drag her back.
"What happens if they take her back?" Jiang Chen asked casually.
"Labor camp," Wang Yi replied with a shrug, unfazed by such routine events.
"That small girl can work?"
"She's over sixteen—just malnourished," Wang Yi chuckled. "But let's not dwell on this. Shall we move on with your selection—"
"I'll take her," Jiang Chen interrupted with a sigh.
The girl's frail body wouldn't last long in a labor camp. Jiang Chen, who had seen enough death, couldn't bear to send her to her doom.
And maybe, just maybe, it was because of me she ended up in this situation, he thought.
Perhaps this was conscience—an indulgent luxury.
"Uh…" Wang Yi blinked in surprise, leaning closer with a sly grin. "Boss Jiang, if you're into that, I could arrange for—"
"You talk too much," Jiang Chen said coldly.
Wang Yi shuddered under his icy glare. "Y-Yes, of course. No problem at all."
"How long will the paperwork take?" Jiang Chen asked impatiently, unwilling to waste any more words.
"About a day. May I have your address, please…" Wang Yi, a chubby bureaucrat, hesitated as he fumbled with his words. The girl they were discussing had just committed a serious crime by attempting to flee the quarantine zone, making her technically a criminal and, by extension, eligible for sale. But until the formalities were complete, extracting her wouldn't be easy.
"Two azurite crystals. I'll wait here," Jiang Chen stated bluntly.
"Well, Mr. Jiang, the judicial process—"
"Three azurites. That's the tip." Jiang Chen's tone grew colder. Why so many excuses? Talk about civilization and laws in this wasteland? Ridiculous.
"Yes, right away!" Wang Yi scampered off to the records room, eager to contact his "connections."
Though the man appeared sloppy, his efficiency skyrocketed when sufficient azurite was involved. True to form, within half an hour, Jiang Chen saw a soldier escorting the girl back to the gate.
The girl's face now bore a fresh bruise, and her arms were marked with scratches. Jiang Chen's expression darkened slightly.
Noticing this, Wang Yi sidled up with an ingratiating grin. "Ah, Mr. Jiang, the physical examination took a bit longer than expected, but it's all for your safety. Please understand!" he explained awkwardly, leaning closer to whisper, "Don't worry. The quarantine staff confirmed she's... untouched. A rare find, heh."
Jiang Chen subtly shifted away from the man's overpowering heat and stench. Without a word, he slammed five azurite crystals—payment and tip—onto the desk and signed the agreement. With that, the girl identified as Subject 010342 was severed from any ties to the Sixth District.
"What's your name?" Jiang Chen asked. His gaze lingered momentarily on her bruised cheek and the bloodied scratches on her arm before he looked away and sighed.
"Yao Jiayu," she answered softly, her voice trembling with fear.
"Do you know computers?"
"I do!" she blurted out, her voice suddenly loud and confident. Realizing her outburst, she quickly lowered her head and added in a quieter tone, "I've earned a Grade B evaluation in the virtual education system. I'm confident in programming and hacking."
"Oh? Then why are you in such dire straits?" Jiang Chen tilted his head, studying the petite girl with mild curiosity. Someone her age, possessing such skills, would be considered a prodigy in the old world.
But in this dystopia, it wasn't uncommon. The streamlined virtual education systems eliminated unnecessary coursework, focusing entirely on one's innate talents. Years spent in nutrient tanks could yield specialists in specific fields. Most people raised in shelters underwent similar training. A Grade B evaluation was no small feat.
Jiayu, clearly a product of one such shelter, had likely ended up here due to misfortune.
"Lots of people in the slums can do it," she murmured, her face reddening as she averted her gaze. Still, as if worried about disappointing him, she summoned her courage and looked up.
"Even if I'm not the best, I promise I won't disappoint you! And I'll be obedient… no matter what you ask of me, I'll comply."
Her voice quivered with a mix of determination and fear, and by the time she finished, her face was flushed.
Watching her desperate attempt to sell herself, Jiang Chen chuckled.
He wasn't particularly concerned about the azurite he'd spent. Money, or its equivalent, was meant to be used.
"Relax. Working for me doesn't require that level of anxiety."
Jiayu nodded nervously, but her trembling didn't escape his notice.
He then realized her clothing—a thin, skintight jumpsuit that barely covered her frail frame. Likely standard for those in the slums, it clung to her like a second skin. Upon leaving the camp, everything she owned, including a ragged coat, had been confiscated.
"Are you cold?"
Jiayu shook her head, though her shivering betrayed her.
Jiang Chen sighed. In her wide, astonished eyes, he shrugged off his coat and draped it over her small shoulders.
"Don't catch a cold. Medical care here isn't great."
His voice lacked tenderness, but Jiayu bowed her head in silence, her lips curling into a faint smile beneath her unkempt hair.
"...So lucky," she murmured.
"What?" Jiang Chen raised a brow.
"Nothing," she quickly replied.
Jiang Chen didn't press further, his mood inexplicably lightened by the small act of kindness. Perhaps this was what distinguished a civilized man in a world so broken.
Jiayu cast a shy glance at his softened expression, then lowered her head again, clutching the coat tighter.
So warm...
Her thoughts remained unspoken, but she couldn't suppress a sense of relief. She had waited so long, hiding in the corner of the slum's marketplace, watching buyers scour for slaves. She had yearned for an escape, gambling everything on finding a buyer who wasn't entirely cruel.
She had witnessed mercenaries, well-dressed traders, and enigmatic strangers, yet never before had she acted so impulsively.
Why now?
Why risk her life to beg this man?
Perhaps it was the faint trace of pity she had seen in his gaze—a fleeting, fragile compassion that, while almost eroded, had not entirely disappeared.
If she didn't gamble now, she would rot in this hellhole for the rest of her life.
She knew what awaited her if she stayed—the moment her body matured, the predators circling the slums would no longer hesitate. She had seen it happen to others: the older sister next door, once defiant, now a hollow shell.
Her father had died protecting her mother. Her mother had knelt, begging in vain. Jiayu had seen too much.
This world was insane.
If she had to be someone's possession, better to choose the one who might hurt her less.
And if she was wrong…
Dying in the labor camps wouldn't be the worst outcome.