Apocalyptic Hoarding Diary

Chapter 224 Initiating the Acquisition

The supporting appraisal process, evaluation standards, and delivery procedures are explained in detail, and there are even appeal channels and rule interpretations. It elevates resource exchange from the chaotic, uncertain, and exploitative "marketplace behavior" in the outer city to a systematic and predictable "management process".

This "process" and "system" is itself an invisible high wall, separating those who have the relevant knowledge, possess compliant items, and can understand and utilize these rules from those outside the wall.

A thought popped into her head uncontrollably. She hesitated for a moment, then lowered her voice and asked, "What if... the person making the exchange is from the outer city? Are the exchange standards the same as those shown on the list?"

The female staff member behind the window maintained her standard smile without any change, even the curve of her lips remained the same. However, Xu Xiaoyan keenly noticed a fleeting, extremely faint, businesslike detachment that quickly crossed her calm eyes—an instinctive, conditioned reflex towards those "not part of the system." Her voice remained steady and clear:

"The identity verification system will automatically associate and verify your regional code. All redemption operations, including the specific list of applicable items and the points conversion factor, will be based on the results displayed in real time by the system after verification on your personal terminal or identity chip. Holders of out-of-town codes" paused for half a second, as if choosing the most accurate wording, "When redeeming some items, you may encounter system restrictions and be unable to initiate the redemption process; or, the applicable points conversion factor may differ from the 'baseline factor' displayed on the screen. Everything is subject to the system's judgment."

Sure enough! Even the exchange rates are different. An invisible filter is activated before the transaction even takes place. Your identity code determines what kind of "menu" you can see and the "prices" marked on the menu. Fairness? Here, fairness is redefined as "differential permissions granted by the system based on the code".

"Understood, thank you," Xu Xiaoyan said, taking a few steps back to avoid occupying the window.

Her gaze fell on the other people conducting transactions in the hall. A middle-aged man wearing dark blue overalls stained with a little oil and whose hands seemed to have some black stains that hadn't been completely washed off walked to the window next door.

He carefully took out two objects wrapped in soft cloth from a slightly worn canvas backpack. Unwrapping the cloth revealed two intricately designed components with a cold, metallic sheen. They looked like the core parts of some small mechanical device, with clear engravings and serial numbers on them.

The male staff member behind the window took it, but instead of casually weighing or tapping it like in the outer city, he picked up a small instrument with a scanning head and carefully scanned the part from top to bottom and left to right, with the data on the screen jumping rapidly.

The staff member spoke to the man in a low voice for a few more minutes, seemingly confirming some parameters or sources. The man nodded calmly, said a few words, and then the staff member operated the terminal, indicating that the man should bring his left arm close to a sensor area on the counter.

With a soft "beep," the man withdrew his arm, glanced at the personal terminal on his wrist that resembled a bracelet. The screen seemed to light up briefly. He didn't show any particular expression on his face, simply rolled up the soft cloth covering the device and stuffed it back into his backpack. He nodded slightly to the staff member and then turned to leave.

The entire process, from taking out the item to receiving the points, takes no more than three minutes. It's quiet, fast, and has a clear objective. This is the value of "technology" and "specific knowledge," which are quickly identified, professionally evaluated, reasonably priced, and instantly redeemed here.

On the other side, a woman in a camel-colored wool coat with a gentle demeanor was redeeming items with points. Xu Xiaoyan saw her select an item from the redemption list, and a staff member took out a small, exquisitely packaged box from the storage area behind her and handed it to the woman.

The woman took it, examined the label carefully, and put it into her handbag with satisfaction. Xu Xiaoyan noticed that the label seemed to have the words "Strawberry Ice Cream" printed on it, followed by a points number that made her heart skip a beat—that number could probably cover the heating bill for a family of three or four in the outer city, struggling to pay for nearly a week in Zone E.

Using enough points to sustain basic survival to redeem a box of ice cream that may only be a taste and not filling, the "sufficiency" and "choice" represented by this consumption behavior form a cruel and silent contrast with the struggles in the outside world.

Xu Xiaoyan didn't continue watching. She felt a tightness in her chest, as if something was blocking it. Everything here was operating on a different logic and rhythm. She turned around and walked back to the automatic door she had come from.

The door slid open silently again, and the cool air from outside rushed in, washing away the "cleanliness" of the room that carried the smell of disinfectant and electronic devices.

Xu Xiaoyan left the central city area somewhat dejectedly. Following the path she had come from, she passed through the gate that required authorization and stepped back into the outer city. It was as if she had been suddenly pulled back from an immersive drama of order to a boiling, pungent reality.

The familiar sounds and smells instantly surged up from all directions like a tangible tide, assaulting her senses—the cacophony of hawking and haggling, so loud it was almost impossible to discern the content; the fierce arguments that erupted over trivial matters; the piercing cries of children; the pungent smell of burning cheap coal and unknown chemical fuels; and the sour, putrid odor emanating from the piles of garbage that hadn't been cleared away in the corners of the alley.

She didn't go straight home. The pent-up anger in her chest hadn't dissipated yet, and she needed to do something to verify or dilute what she had just seen. She turned towards the "Outer City No. 3 Official Points Acquisition Point," which she remembered as being one of the larger ones. It had always been one of the busiest and most chaotic places in the outer city.

Even from dozens of meters away, the clamor of voices was already overwhelming. The collection point was set up in a huge, semi-open space converted from an old warehouse. At this moment, it was crowded with people, a dark mass, and the crowd of people almost drowned out the simple signs.

At the official points purchase windows, long, winding queues stretched as far as the eye could see. People huddled together, their faces filled with extreme anxiety, impatience, and deep worry, each clutching their meager possessions tightly to their chests or at their feet.

Behind the window, the staff, separated by thick glass, wore expressions of numbness and impatience honed from years of working in this environment. They quickly took items from the pass-through, barely glancing at them, scanning them with a simple instrument, or weighing them briefly based on experience, before announcing a shockingly low point value into the microphone, a value that made one's heart clench and even feel humiliated.

Outside the window, pleas, explanations, and angry questions rose and fell: "Comrade, look again! This quilt is new!" "This wrench of mine is still usable! How can it be considered scrap metal?" "0.2 points? This is five kilograms of copper wire!"... What they were usually met with more impatient rebukes from the staff, cold repetition of the price quote, or simply a wave of the hand to signal the next person.

Xu Xiaoyan found a relatively open spot on the edge, a place where she could barely stand. Behind her was the mottled, peeling brick wall of the warehouse. She put down her backpack, took out a folded piece of cardboard she had prepared beforehand, and then took out a black marker. She unscrewed the cap and wrote several clear lines of large characters on the cardboard:

[Priority will be given to: all kinds of unexpired, sealed packaged food, dried goods, and condiments]

Price: 5%~10% higher than the official purchase price during the same period.

[On-site verification, points settled immediately]

She placed the cardboard sign she had written on on a discarded, dirty wooden crate to make sure passersby could see it. Then, she pulled down her hood and raised her scarf, revealing only her eyes. She didn't call out or solicit; she just stood there quietly.

At first, few people noticed this corner and the simple sign. People's attention was drawn to the long queue and the commotion at the official window. But soon, a few people who had just completed their transactions at the official window left the queue, grumbling and dejected. As they passed through this relatively empty area, their eyes inadvertently fell on the cardboard sign.

The words "above the official price" were especially striking, like a faint spark suddenly illuminating the darkness, instantly drawing their almost desperate gaze.

In the current climate of extreme price suppression through official channels and chaos in the informal market, a sign clearly stating "buying at a premium," even if it's only a negligible 5%, is enough to ignite a glimmer of hope.

A middle-aged man who looked to be in his fifties, thin and with prominent cheekbones, approached hesitantly, his face showing lingering anger and deep exhaustion. He first looked at Xu Xiaoyan warily, then his gaze fell on the cardboard, repeatedly checking the words, especially "food" and "float".

After hesitating for a few seconds, he seemed to have made up his mind. He carefully took out two white packages wrapped in transparent plastic film from his pocket. The packaging was simple, but the seal was intact. The words "white sugar" were printed on them in a blurry way.

"Miss...Miss," the man's voice was dry and hoarse, carrying a tentative tone and a hint of barely perceptible pleading, "This...compressed energy bar, the official place...only gives 1 point per pack, but you..." He handed the two packs to Xu Xiaoyan, his fingers trembling slightly from the force, his eyes fixed on her reaction as if awaiting judgment.

Xu Xiaoyan took it, but did not answer immediately. She weighed it in her hand, and then, under the dim light from the top of the warehouse, carefully checked whether the seal was damaged or leaking, and whether the plastic film was obviously aged and brittle.

In the post-apocalyptic world, the appearance and date of food are secondary; airtightness and actual condition are the key factors. Although these two packets of white sugar look unremarkable, they are tightly sealed, showing no signs of expansion or leakage, and their hardness is normal when squeezed.

"1.1 points per pack," she said, looking up into the man's eyes. Her voice, muffled by her scarf, was clear and distinct. "Two packs for 2.2 points. Want to trade?"

The man's eyes suddenly lit up, a light that was a mixture of surprise, delight, and relief. 2.2 points, ten percent higher than the official price! This seemingly insignificant ten percent felt like an unexpected lifeline at this moment. He nodded vigorously, almost without hesitation, as if afraid Xu Xiaoyan would change her mind. "Change! Change! Change it now!"

Xu Xiaoyan said no more, deftly took out her phone from her inside pocket, brought up the base's internal transfer interface, and the man also hurriedly showed his old phone screen, which displayed his QR code. Xu Xiaoyan entered the amount, scanned it, and confirmed.

With a soft "beep," the transfer was complete. The man stared intently at his phone screen, watching the number increase by 2.2. His tense shoulders relaxed slightly, and he let out a long, silent sigh of relief.

He stopped looking at Xu Xiaoyan, wiped his empty hands on his clothes, turned around, and almost unsteady on his feet but with a renewed strength, quickly disappeared into the still surging and chaotic crowd.

This was like a signal. Soon, more people noticed the corner and the simple cardboard sign that read "Price Increase". They tentatively gathered around from all directions, each holding some food items, their faces a mixture of eager hope and deep suspicion, their eyes quickly scanning between Xu Xiaoyan and the sacks that had just been piled up at her feet.

Someone handed over a large bag of salt that was almost full, with coarse grains seeping out from the edge of the packaging; someone else pulled out several individually packaged vitamin tablets sealed with aluminum foil, which were dusty but still had relatively recent production dates; an old woman shakily pulled out two glass jars of dark red chili sauce from her bosom, the caps were rusted but the wax seals were intact; and a young man, after much hesitation, took out a half-filled plastic bag of dried mushrooms that looked shriveled and wrinkled, saying that he had picked and dried them in the woods outside the city.

Everyone's opening lines were similar, tinged with cautious probing and a barely perceptible pleading: "How much can you give me for this...?" "Miss, look at this, can you accept it? How much will you give me?" "This is good salt, I saved it up..."

Xu Xiaoyan's prices were consistently a little higher than the quotes they had just heard from the official channels—sometimes by 5%, sometimes by 8%, and for relatively "unconventional" items like sauces and vitamins, she would even offer a premium of nearly 10%.

Most importantly, she never delays payments, makes excuses, or nitpicks. Once both parties agree on a price, she immediately transfers the money via mobile phone, and the crisp "ding" of the credit notification becomes the most direct and powerful form of credibility in this environment full of uncertainty and exploitation.

"I only accept food-related items, with priority given to sealed packaging. Dried goods and seasonings are all acceptable." Her voice, carried through her scarf, was not loud, but it carried steadily and clearly amidst the noisy background. "Items that are of poor quality, obviously spoiled, or have severely damaged packaging are not acceptable." The conditions were somewhat relaxed, unlike the official requirements of "brand new" or "high value," but the bottom line remained clear—it must be edible and relatively durable for storage.