Chu Guang and the Lollipop

 

Two hundred years ago.

To be precise, it was the year 2125, when a war broke out on this prosperous planet.

Both sides in the war were determined to utterly destroy the other, using almost every means possible.

The war lasted only three years.

But those three years were enough to destroy everything on the surface.

The long nuclear winter nearly extinguished the flames of civilization. Both sides succeeded in sending the other to hell, while also burying themselves.

Thus began the Wasteland Era, even more desolate than the Great Depression.

Although two centuries have passed since that doomsday war, and the nuclear winter basically ended over a century ago, humanity has not regained its position at the top of the food chain.

The rampant use of nuclear, biological, and even genetic weapons has caused the entire planetary ecosystem to evolve in an extreme direction.

And those mutants, referred to as “Mutant Species”, have become the main threat faced by the survivors struggling amidst the ruins.

For instance, when Chu Guang first came to this world, he encountered a two-headed wolf-dog, one of those Mutant Species.

However, even among the Mutant Species, there are differences in strength.

Mutants like the two-headed hyena, caused by gamma radiation, are generally not very powerful in combat, with the exception of a few lucky cases where their combat ability may not even surpass their pre-mutation state.

In contrast, the eaters, crawlers, and other Mutant Species caused by biological weapons, having mutated to the point where their ancestors can no longer be traced, are true monsters born for slaughter.

Their nervous systems have been invaded by mutated fungi. During the day, they usually hide in ruins, sewers, or underground facilities like subways, and only come out to hunt when night falls.

The situation in the suburbs is much better than within the city.

Especially in the remote suburbs.

Over the past five months, the most dangerous Mutant Species Chu Guang has encountered was a mutated brown bear. Although incredibly powerful, the creature was relatively slow in its reactions.

Chu Guang carefully avoided it before it could detect him.

The faint light of dawn pierced through the damaged concrete walls, casting shadows along with the steel and scrap onto the street littered with car wrecks and rubble.

It was now eight o’clock in the morning.

The time here had a twelve-hour difference from the eastern time zone in the present world.

Watching the two mutated hyenas roaming the street, Chu Guang tightened his grip on the spiked pipe in his hand and cautiously circled around to the back of the ruins.

Although confident he could take them down, there was no need for unnecessary trouble.

Moreover, these beasts were cunning, even using their own kind as bait, so who knows how many more were lurking in the shadows of the nearby ruins?

Following the path through the dilapidated streets.

When he saw the sign for Beit Street Children’s Park, Chu Guang finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Up ahead was “Beit Street” – a relatively large settlement of survivors in this area, housing over a hundred households.

Before the war, this had been a children’s amusement park, complete with numerous rides and a spacious lawn.

After the war, it was designated as a temporary shelter by the military, housing many civilians who had fled from Clear Spring City’s city center.

What became of those refugees is unknown, but two hundred years later, this place has developed into a “small town.”

People have cobbled together rudimentary huts on the bare dirt using discarded plastic boards, awnings, and wooden and metal frames.

It resembles the “Time of Troubles”.

The amusement park’s walls serve as a natural barrier and have been crudely reinforced with barbed wire and wooden planks studded with nails.

At the center of the amusement park stands a five-story classical castle with a fairytale-like appearance. However, its paint has long peeled off, and the side facing the city center has nearly collapsed, leaving only the northern half and a tottering lonely tower.

Even fairytales are undoubtedly dark here.

Yet, despite its dilapidated state, this building remains the “most luxurious” structure on Beit Street.

It is also the residence of the mayor.

Although Chu Guang has lived here for five months, he has never met the mayor. That personage is quite mysterious, rarely making public appearances.

“Well, well, back so early,” said Old Walter, squinting his eyes as he watched Chu Guang approach from the street corner, a smoldering cigarette dangling from his lips, emitting a wisp of hazy white smoke from his nostrils.

In his hand, he gripped a double-barreled hunting rifle.

Although it looked rather old, no one doubted its potency.

Chu Guang had witnessed the old man take down a raging mutant brown bear charging towards Beit Street’s gate with just two shots.

Since then, he has yearned to possess such a weapon.

“Was out all night.”

“Out?”

The old man glanced at the spiked pipe slung across Chu Guang’s back, his brow arched in surprise.

No one knew better than him how dangerous the nights were.

During every night shift, his finger never left the trigger, any slight rustle of wind or movement of grass causing his nerves to tense.

Although the Mutant Species in the remote suburbs were not as dangerous as those in the city, too many scavengers had their eyes set on this place.

Falling into their hands would be no better than dying at the hands of the Mutant Species.

Old Walter found it hard to believe that this guy had managed to survive a night in the wasteland with just a steel pipe.

“Had a bit of an accident.”

Chu Guang did not explain further, only giving Old Walter a weary look, allowing him to imagine for himself, before heading straight through the settlement’s main gate.

Beit Street had only one scrapyard, easily located next to the main gate.

Below the roll-up door was an old electronic scale that never showed the correct weight, flanked by a signboard proclaiming “Fair Prices, No Cheating the Young or Old.”

This store was owned by the mayor and was the only place in Beit Street that purchased scrap parts and mutant mole rat pelts.

To monopolize the scavenging business, this dictator has even issued a law.

No one was allowed to privately sell their hunted game or scavenged scrap to passing merchant caravans.

The reason given was to ensure that Beit Street’s goods could fetch a reasonable price and not be “shamelessly exploited by cunning merchants.”

This unreasonable rule was likely only able to pass because the survivors here were quite ignorant.

And in general, merchant caravans would not risk offending this dictator by procuring those meager resources from the scavengers themselves.

They only engaged in large-scale trading.

And only with people they trusted.

“Selling? Or buying?”

The shopkeeper was a man in his fifties named Charlie. Rumor had it that he used to be a resident of a shelter in another province. Later, he was captured and made a slave until the mayor bought him from a slaver and assigned him the job of dealing with scavengers.

Most of the residents here were native “Wasteland People” who had received no education. Their math skills were so poor that they could even make mistakes with simple addition and subtraction within 100.

But Charlie was different.

He came from a shelter.

Although no two shelters in this wasteland were exactly alike, they had one thing in common.

Those who lived there were all elites of pre-war society, and their children not only inherited their intelligent minds from their ancestors but also received a good education from the Enlightenment era.

If this world hadn’t gone to hell, he might have become an engineer, doctor, or scholar like his ancestors, instead of keeping accounts here.

“Selling.”

Without beating around the bush, Chu Guang took out 6 used batteries and 5 tubes of adhesive from his backpack and threw them onto the tray of the electronic scale.

These were what he had scavenged from the ruins of nearby buildings before discovering Shelter 404.

Old Charlie picked up the used batteries from the table, casually checking the model and whether they were swollen or damaged, then tossed them onto the scale beside him.

These were definitely scrap, no need to think twice, but the materials inside could still be recycled.

“The quality isn’t bad. This area has probably been picked clean. Where did you get this good stuff?”

This could be called good stuff?

“Got lucky.”

“Heh heh, I was just asking casually. Hmm, the batteries are not bad, but the quality of the adhesive is average. The seal has been opened, so the inside is probably a mess. I can only give you a 50% discount…all together that’s 3 tokens.”

Chu Guang didn’t bargain and took the 3 white tokens from his hand.

These metal-like plastic coins were the “currency” issued by Megalith City, the largest survivor settlement in Clear Spring City. They could be exchanged for food and supplies in most survivor settlements across Clear Spring City.

The tokens had their face value printed on the front and an anti-counterfeiting code and pattern on the back that shimmered under sunlight.

These tokens had many advantages such as heat resistance, ease of storage, and high recognizability. Most crucially, with post-war technology, they were virtually impossible to counterfeit.

Smaller survivor settlements like Beit Street, with limited population and no industrial capacity, mainly traded with Megalith City caravans, exchanging agricultural products, game, and scavenged junk for essential supplies and even weapons.

Naturally, this currency also began circulating in Beit Street.

Of course, it wasn’t always useful. If the caravans didn’t arrive for a month, prices in the entire settlement would plummet.

The mayor had tried to introduce Beit Street’s own currency – a kind of accounting-type ticket, but no one would accept it.

Even Beit Street’s survivors knew that those pieces of paper weren’t good for anything, not even wiping their behinds, being no different from scrap paper.

“Want to buy anything? The shop just got a new batch of goods from Megalith City.”

As Chu Guang was about to leave, he stopped and turned to ask.

“Any guns?”

“No, none of those. And even if there were, you couldn’t afford them,” Charlie grinned, watching Chu Guang turn to leave before continuing.

“But there is some food and fuel. If I were you, I’d stock up before prices rise.”

Guns and such were very difficult to obtain in places like Beit Street.

Because even if merchant caravans dealing in arms occasionally passed through, those weapons usually ended up in the mayor’s own warehouse and were never put on display for anyone to choose from.

Moreover, as Charlie said, even if they did have such things, scavengers like them could never afford them.

Chu Guang was well aware of why he said that.

As a well-educated resident of a refugee camp, Charlie must have noticed that all the survivors living in Beit Street, whether scavengers or hunters, had their surplus value completely exploited by the mayor’s family.

Even though the mayor had never personally reached into their pockets to take away a single token.

“Food and fuel prices are going up?”

Seeing the surprise on Chu Guang’s face, Charlie smiled faintly and said,

“Haven’t you noticed? It’s been getting colder recently, and the Mutant Species outside have become more active.”

Chu Guang frowned, pondering for a moment before realizing something and asking,

“Winter is coming?”

“I remember you came here five months ago, so you might not have experienced it yet. Around this time every year, it starts getting colder. This year… winter may come early, maybe even snowing by October.”

Pausing for a moment, Charlie said meaningfully,

“Winter is approaching.”

“Both humans and Mutant Species need to prepare in advance.”

When Chu Guang first arrived in Beit Street, he was wearing a blue jacket, so Charlie instinctively thought he was from a refugee camp and paid some attention to him.

Although this consideration never manifested in the trade prices, the old man did help Chu Guang with some experience.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have adapted to life in the wasteland so quickly.

Chu Guang nodded earnestly.

“I understand, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Charlie smiled faintly. “Just don’t die.”

It was now early September. If it really did snow in October, Chu Guang would only have a little over a month to prepare.

For the survivors living in this area, snowfall was definitely not something to look forward to. It meant an additional fuel expense on top of food.

Most people here made a living by scavenging and hunting, with nearby farms only needing labor during peak seasons.

In winter, the difficulty of scavenging would increase exponentially. No one could predict whether what was buried under the snow was reusable scrap or the fangs of a mutant rat.

Animals that provided meat, like deer and rabbits, would also reduce their activity time or even hibernate for the winter.

Worst of all, once winter arrived, the merchant caravans would stop coming. Even if they scavenged good stuff, they could only stockpile it at home until spring came the following year to sell it off.

Or take the risk of heading to Megalith City, ten kilometers away.

That was the largest survivor settlement in the Clear Spring City area, and even in winter, its market would remain open.

However, its location was on the edge of the Third Ring Road of Clear Spring City, right next to the Northern District, with countless dangers lying along the way.

For an ordinary person to attempt that journey on foot, in the depths of winter where temperatures could plummet below -10°C, would be tantamount to suicide!

After leaving the recycling station, Chu Guang first returned to his dwelling place.

It could hardly be called a residence, more like a ramshackle shed that could barely keep out the rain, without a proper window or door.

Until yesterday, he had planned to save up some cement and PVC boards to seal up the drafty walls before winter arrived.

But now it seemed unnecessary.

From a moldy sleeping bag, Chu Guang dug out a rusty aluminum box and forced it open, spilling out the plastic tokens inside with a clatter onto the rickety wooden table.

A total of 47 white tokens with a face value of 1 point each.

Adding the 3 tokens on him, that was exactly 50 points!

This money was what he had painstakingly saved up, skimping and saving, with the goal of one day leaving this wretched place and moving to the better conditions of Megalith City.

But now…

He had a new plan for this “asset.”

Why settle for handouts when you can be self-sufficient?

“The ruins of the nursing home above the shelter can be utilized, including the concrete perimeter walls around the buildings… With players to command, gathering materials nearby shouldn’t be too difficult for repairs.”

“Near the nursing home is a wetland park, so scavenging for metal waste won’t be very convenient, but the surrounding vegetation is lush enough that fuel for heating shouldn’t be too scarce. Plus, the wood can also be used for repairing buildings and making furniture… Axes! Right, I need to buy four axes too.”

Grinding by killing monsters?

Not a chance!

This is supposed to be a 100% realistic hardcore game. If it’s hardcore, then we have to start from the most basic labor!

“Iron shovels, saws and other tools can’t be neglected either!” Chu Guang had already planned out how to arrange the players’ tasks, even before they logged in.

Of course, besides work tools, the most crucial thing was provisions.

Once the cultivation pods activate, they will immediately consume the active substances pre-stored inside to synthesize clone bodies for the players to use.

And these clones all need to eat!

Though when players are offline, the clones can lie dormant in the pods at a lower metabolic rate, they can’t just lie there indefinitely.

Living beings had to eat, an eternal truth!

“At minimum, I need to stockpile enough food for five adults for one week… If we calculate two meals a day, one baked cake per meal, that’s 70 cakes.”

The baked cake was the most common food in Beit Street, exchanged for 1 token each.

They were usually about the size of a palm, possibly mixed with bark or other fibers, very hard and coarse in texture, like sand was mixed in, but filling and providing a bit of salt.

They could also be boiled into porridge.

70 flatbreads would cost 70 tokens, or at least 60 even with a discount. This exceeded his budget.

Chu Guang frowned, but quickly relaxed again.

He had overcomplicated the issue.

There was no need to feed the players too well.

If instead of cakes, he bought the raw material for making them – the green wheat produced by nearby farms – it would only cost 3 tokens for a whole kilogram!

Stockpiling 5kg would be enough for a few days.

If that wasn’t enough, he could learn from Beit Street’s survivors and mix in tree bark or plant roots and stems.

As for other things, he would figure it out later.

“For now, let’s just prepare these essentials first…”

Sweeping the allotted tokens into his backpack, Chu Guang hoisted it onto his back.

Though he hadn’t slept all night, he was energized, as if he had found a new purpose in life, with not a hint of drowsiness.

As he pushed open the door to the outside, he saw the neighbor’s little girl squatting at the entrance of the next shack, curiously looking over.

Chu Guang knew her name was Yu Xiaoyu, the youngest daughter of the Yu family.

Most wasteland survivors were sallow and skinny, and the Yu family’s little girl was no exception, with twiggy little arms and legs that made it hard to imagine she was already of marriageable age.

Seeing that Chu Guang had noticed her, she showed no shyness and came out.

“I heard noises from your house, so I came to check it out.”

Every morning in Beit Street, the men would go out scavenging or hunting, while the elderly, weak and women generally stayed home to guard the houses or do odd jobs to make money.

Though everyone was dirt poor, living hand-to-mouth without being able to save up, and there was nothing worth stealing in their homes, no one wanted others taking advantage when they were out.

This man named Chu Guang was an outsider who frequently left early and returned late, rarely interacting with the other residents.

She didn’t know much about him, only that he didn’t seem the type to put up with hardship.

At first, everyone was wary of him, and her mother told her to keep an eye on this stranger from the outside.

But Xiaoyu felt he didn’t seem like a bad person, because once when she was passing by, he had shared a bowl of soup with her.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, I can keep an eye on your house when you go out.” She blinked happily and added, “I’m just idling around anyway.”

Poor child.

In that former world, at her age she should still be in school.

Not wanting to appear pitying, Chu Guang hid the hint of sympathy in his eyes and impassively took out a lollipop from his pocket, handing it to the little girl.

“Have this to eat.”

“But don’t tell anyone I gave it to you.”

“Otherwise there won’t be any more.”

She had never seen this kind of food before.

Yu Xiaoyu first bit into the wrapper, finding she couldn’t tear it open, only then realizing the outer packaging needed to be peeled.

Her dark eyes fixed on the red candy ball on the plastic stick, she cautiously stuck out her tongue and gave it a delicate lick.

This, this taste?!

So sweet!

Eyes sparkling with delight, she happily looked up to say thank you.

But the person who had given her the candy was already walking away.