Feng Xue and Old Jiang's instructional exchange didn't last very long. Before noon even arrived, the normally desolate streets of the Rust Zone had already begun growing noisy.
On the street outside their door, where one could barely see any passersby on an ordinary day, strange-looking vehicles actually began appearing from time to time. The first wave of people who had charged out of the junkyard ran at full speed, trying to send their hauls to familiar shops as quickly as possible, exchanging them for a considerable sum.
"Old Jiang! Old Jiang! Look at this! A hydraulic rod taken from a four-star engineering mech, just a bit deformed. What's it worth?"
"Doctor Jiang, look at this thing! Listen to that sound! It's gotta be worth at least a thousand or eight hundred, right?"
"Old man, wanna gamble on chips? Just dug these out. Give me a price!"
All sorts of people began gathering at the shop entrance. Fortunately, Old Jiang was experienced and immediately locked the door; otherwise, they probably would have flooded right into the shop.
Feng Xue watched this scene and finally understood why he had virtually no memory of the two Trash Days he'd clearly experienced before. Well, no wonder—no one had even entered the shop back then. As someone who just worked odd jobs in the back, how would he have any impression of it?
Compared to Feng Xue's bewilderment, Old Jiang instantly got into his element. He walked up to the seemingly transparent yet unexpectedly sturdy shop door, tapped the panel twice, and a dark partition resembling a confessional immediately popped out from the wall beside it. He pointed at the partition in front of everyone and said:
"Same old rules. One at a time. Absolutely soundproof. If you're not satisfied with the price, no one's forcing you. But you get five minutes to quote and haggle. If we reach a deal, I'll buy it. If not, take your business elsewhere."
Saying this, Doctor Jiang brought Feng Xue into the negotiation room. That face which usually looked somewhat wretched was now written all over with shrewdness and pickiness.
He sat down slowly behind the counter, giving every person who entered the room an indifferent, aloof attitude, but his eyes swept over each item as swiftly as a scanner.
"The internal stress structure of this hydraulic rod is completely shot. Repair costs would be higher than buying new. I'll take it as scrap iron, and price it as D16 steel."
"Biomaterial? Hmm... the activity is maintained decently, but it's contaminated with unknown organic solvents. The risk is a bit high. I'll cut the price by seventy percent. No deal? Other shops won't even take it."
"Chips? Let me see... All old civilian-grade models, and a few pulled from scrapped mainframes. A pile of garbage. What good data could there be? Bundle them up and weigh them. Take it or leave it."
His quotes were extremely harsh, his tone completely blunt, but most people would still choose to close the deal after complaining a few times.
Clearly, Old Jiang's reputation was quite solid, and his discernment was sufficiently sharp. Even if they had some objections to the price, people were more inclined to believe they had misjudged the item themselves. Additionally, Old Jiang's prosthetic installations and repairs were cheap and safe. Even if it was just to build a little rapport, it was worth it.
Feng Xue assisted from the side, watching without speaking, but silently forming his own judgments. Every time Old Jiang completed a transaction, he would offer Feng Xue some pointers:
"See the wear marks at the joint of that hydraulic rod? That's caused by long-term overload operation. The metal fatigue is definitely severe, so there's no point repairing it. But the material of this large hydraulic rod is definitely fine. You won't lose money smelting it down."
"Biomaterials are the hardest to appraise. Activity levels, quality variations—there's no unified standard. And unlike metal materials, you can't just smelt them down if you lose money on them, let alone stuff from unknown manufacturers. If you can't identify it, don't even touch it."
"Chips are called a 'gamble' because appearances don't matter; it all depends on what data is inside. For these, look directly at the pins and substrate color. Don't disdain those that are dim, yellowed, or nearing end of life. Only these old ones might have been high-end goods when they were released. Whether it's viruses or data, they can be worth something. Those brand-new civilian ones are miserable inside—either low-end trojans or redundant data. Finding a 'porn' collection would count as a pleasant surprise. Look, this whole pile is civilian models from recent years. After testing the data, it'll basically be packaged for precious metal extraction."
Feng Xue earnestly committed these experiences to memory. This was far more intuitive than reading reference materials—all bloody... er, rust-covered practical experience.
At the same time, Feng Xue also noticed that when facing certain customers, Old Jiang would mention him a couple of times. Those customers mostly just glanced at Feng Xue, giving a nod as a greeting. Feng Xue knew that Old Jiang was helping him integrate into this environment.
After several busy hours, the customers outside finally dispersed. Old Jiang put away the negotiation room, and Feng Xue stretched, preparing to process today's haul. But just then, the wind chime at the door suddenly rang, and a figure walked in.
Unlike those scavengers before, who were covered in filth and carried exhaustion and excitement, this person walked very steadily, almost making no sound. He wore a faded old jacket, with ordinary work pants below—he looked inconspicuous. But the moment he walked in, Feng Xue felt as if the temperature in the room had dropped several degrees.
It was an indescribable feeling, like being stared at by an icy venomous snake, or like catching a faint whiff of blood. Feng Xue's new body, whose nerve reflexes were enhanced by the Phantom Dragon Soul Type-3 chip, gave him a vague premonition of danger. He subconsciously tensed his muscles; his heartbeat seemed to skip half a beat.
"Same as usual." The visitor's voice was low and husky. Concisely, he took out a small cloth bundle from his inner jacket pocket and placed it on the counter.
Old Jiang's expression was calm, as if he hadn't sensed anything abnormal. He simply reached out to open the bundle, revealing several damaged substrates stained with dark red blotches inside.
Old Jiang picked up an instrument and carefully examined the chips on those damaged substrates. After checking them one by one, he sent a transfer request:
"The technique is a bit crude, but the goods are good. Just the risk is a bit higher. Price is the same as usual, but I'll deduct ten percent as a cleanup fee."
The visitor merely nodded. After confirming the transfer amount, he immediately left. The entire process took less than two minutes, without a single unnecessary word.
Only when that person's silhouette disappeared through the doorway did the invisible pressure in the shop abruptly dissipate. Feng Xue finally let out a long breath and said with lingering fear:
"D-Doctor Jiang... that person just now..."
"A 'Cleaner'—the kind specialized in handling 'dirty work.' Though the name sounds similar, they're not the same kind of people as 'Scavengers.'" Old Jiang's tone was flat. Skillfully, he removed the chips from the substrates one by one. "In this line of work, there are always some extra gains. Large items are hard to dismantle and hard to carry, but these small things are still worth something."
When Old Jiang said this, he glanced at Feng Xue, seemingly observing his expression. After a pause, he continued:
"In a place like Gelian, lower-class people who can survive to adulthood have at least a few lives on their hands. Having only technical skills won't let you live long here. Starting tomorrow, I'll teach you something else."