"Co, this is the place," said the tall and thin supervisor, directing Blu to a warehouse door where a truck with its cargo compartnt already open was parked, and the driver was sitting nearby, smoking and resting.
"Old Gu, you finally fucking showed up; we've been waiting here so long we could've faded into nothing," the driver said, his face scruffy with stubble, his shoulders and arms bulging with muscle, his tone coarse.
"Well, I'm here now, aren't I," the skinny assistant supervisor replied briefly before checking out the boxes inside the truck.
"How many boxes are there?"
"31 boxes of lychee, 42 boxes of waterlon, 12 boxes of strawberries, 5 boxes of blueberries... fucking transporting waterlons is a real loss," the driver reported from his personal terminal, item by item, while continuing to complain.
Although waterlons had been selling well recently, their low price compared to other fruits ant their profit margin wasn't great.
"Well, enough of that; if there weren't things to transport, no one would hire you," said the warehouse assistant manager in his thirties after checking the order number, then instructed Blu, who stood by, to start transporting.
The fruit all ca from nearby districts, freshly picked from the orchards that morning, and after they were unloaded and distributed, by four in the afternoon they would be on the shelves of various supermarkets throughout the city. Since it was a short-distance delivery, there was no need for complicated coding; besides, fruit tends to spoil easily, so so loss had to be manually adjusted in the data.
"Co on, Blu, move these carefully one by one, don't drop them."
"Got it." The heavyset man began to move, standing at the unloading dock nearby, taking out the boxes one by one from the truck and placing them on the conveyor belt moving slowly beside him.
"Is he new here?" the driver asked, eyeing the hefty man working huff and puff not far away.
"That's right, just got out of jail," the assistant supervisor offered him a cigarette.
"Not bad, he works quite efficiently," he said, lighting up and leaning back.
About twenty minutes later, after all the goods were unloaded, the supervisor and the driver ca over to check the boxes one by one.
"Hmm, these thirty-so boxes of lychees are good, all fine," the supervisor said as he closed the lid, then glanced at the other side.
Most of the front was acceptable, but when they checked the waterlons, they found that two boxes contained cracked waterlons.
"This..." the driver rubbed his hair, visibly irritated.
"I've been careful on the road; can only say that's how waterlons are, crack at the slightest touch, but look, they're still pretty fresh, right?"
"What's the use of telling that? Custors don't see it that way; they all want the good stuff," the assistant supervisor waved it off.
"Shit..." the driver cursed a few tis, saying that he'd never transport waterlons again, then took out his personal terminal and transferred a small fee to the assistant supervisor.
"You've got yourself another bargain," the driver said as he stowed away his personal terminal, picked up a water bottle beside him, and climbed into the truck, ready to start the engine and leave.
"Supervisor?" Blu asked, seeing the driver just walk away.
"It's fine, let him go," as a minor warehouse supervisor, he was used to these situations and had many ways to handle such issues.
"You distribute these goods to the designated shelves according to the order numbers. In another hour, transportation vehicles from various supermarkets will co to tow them away. As for these two damaged boxes, just leave them; we'll deal with that later." After giving the instructions, the junior supervisor picked up his personal terminal and started communicating with a familiar supermarket manager.
...
"Yes, that's right, I'll give this batch to you for half off... it's cracked, but the quality is still good. You can put together a fruit platter, and we'll still list the original price on the books. I'll refund this portion to you separately... Okay, that's settled. When the ti cos, just let the delivery driver know, so we don't end up with another mix-up over the goods," he said.
After finishing the call, he put down his personal terminal, twirling it happily in his hand. Today brought an additional inco, and even the sight of the perspiring, hard-working Blu seed more pleasing.
"Keep it up, Blu, I'll treat you to half a waterlon after work to quench your craving."
"Got it," Blu panted in response.
As ti slowly passed, Blu gradually settled into life at the wholesale market. Although his pay was low, he had found himself a small place to stay, and occasionally he could eat so of the surplus fruit. These surplus fruits were all high-quality T5 grade, and even if they couldn't be properly shelved, they were much better than the half-rotten scraps he used to drag out of the garbage dump.
So, by mid-July, Blu finally had a rare day off.
He took his old-fashioned second-hand personal terminal, which he had purchased for over 300 Federation Coins, and went to the place where Qiao Long had grown up.
After asking around the neighborhood, he found that Qiao Long hadn't returned here, nor was there any news of him. Scratching his not-too-bright head, he went to visit the cetery, as Qiao Long had asked him to do.
The black tombstone was the sa as always, with only a few withered sticks held down by a stone brick in front of Qiao Long's master's grave—remnants of the last bouquet he had placed there.
"The boss hasn't co out yet, or has he gone sowhere?" he stood in front of the grave, holding a bouquet of flowers he'd bought on the way, and slowly placed it down.
After thinking for a long ti without any clarity, He still left a small card with his contact number under the stone brick, hoping soone would contact him in the future.
Returning to Wholesale Market No. 14, just when he thought this kind of life would continue for a long ti, maybe for a few more years before getting so minor responses, an unexpected call startled Blu to his feet.
"Ha Ke? Is it really you?" he asked excitedly, as the caller was his regular companion, the one who had always followed behind Qiao Long with him.
The next day, Blu t his long-lost comrade, who wore a baseball cap, dressed in hip-hop style, and had green paint on his face.
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