After pushing open the door, a wave of stuffy warmth hit them, which was much stronger than the dry cold outside, but the faint odd sll also made the students accompanying him cover their mouths and noses involuntarily.
Yalian entered, scanned the area, and found that there were quite a few people inside the supply station: at least ten in the hall alone, including two clerks, while the other eight appeared travel-worn, so dressed in greasy, worn work clothes, others wrapped in shiny jackets. The old equipnt by the bar played slightly husky music, rhythmic, and a 3D projection beside it displayed a film from over twenty years ago that had been un-banned.
Stepping on the slightly echoing tal floor, Yalian assessed his surroundings as he headed to the front desk.
"Hello, we are passing by and need so supplies, especially fuel for our vehicle," he said at last, fixing his gaze on a young man behind the bar, who was wearing a floral cloth headscarf, a grey T-shirt, and an old red vest jacket, and was currently grilling so food in the bar, the sound of sizzling oil audible.
"Oh, quite an unfamiliar face, is this your first ti here?" he asked, swaying slightly to the rhythm of the nearby music before looking up.
Although Yalian knew saying it was their first ti might get them swindled, he didn't know how to pretend to be an old hand and chose not to hide the fact.
"Yes, we're here on so business," he said, keeping it brief.
"Looks like you're in luck, finding our place on your first visit. Compared to other places, we're relatively safe and follow the rules here," he said as he picked up a slice of fried at, grabbed so condints from a bowl beside him, sprinkled them on top, wiped his hands briefly with a towel, and then served the aromatic and colorful grilled at to a table of custors.
"You're after fuel, right? Follow ," he said, stepping out from behind the bar and brushing against Yalian with the back of his hand as they both left the supply station.
Once outside, he saw the large white truck parked there, boxy in shape with multi-faceted trapezoidal edges that weren't sharp, giving it a sturdy aesthetic appeal.
"That's a nice big fella. I bet it uses the highly efficient Liquid Alkane Hydrogen 34 number fuel," he mused.
"Right, 34 is one of the few choices available," Yalian responded with relief.
"Unfortunately, we don't get high-end stuff like 34 here; all we have is the cheaper 26 number fuel. It's got more impurities, but it's easy to prepare," he said, continuing to look over the white truck carefully, seemingly envious of such a large vehicle.
"26, huh? Are there really no better options?" Yalian said, holding his forehead in frustration.
26 number fuel had been slowly phased out of the Federal Market a hundred years earlier because its energy efficiency was lower than that of newer fuels, and it also contained more impurities. The reason for its widespread use had solely been due to war-ti conditions, as it was the easiest to synthesize and could be produced in the largest quantities.
"No, there aren't any," the young man with the floral headscarf replied bluntly—the absence ant absence. Moreover, with no other shops around, he wasn't worried about custors walking away.
"Well then, we have no choice but to make do," Yalian conceded. Although using inferior fuel felt unfair to the brand new truck, he wasn't in a position to be picky at the mont.
"5,000 Federation Coins per liter, and I can give you a maximum of 400 liters," he quoted a price that was obviously exorbitant.
"Hey, hey, hey, young man, you must be joking," Guluo approached with an unhappy expression. He knew the current fuel prices— even high-quality 34 fuel cost only about 120 Federation Coins per liter. This guy had just asked for 5,000, nearly 50 tis more, one shouldn't scalp custors quite so shalessly.
As the three approached, the young man with the flower cloth headscarf raised his hands in a placating gesture, "Don't be so surprised, guys. This is the Northern Second District, a place not even birds bother to visit. It's not easy to transport goods here. The drivers risk their lives to bring stuff in. That's just how the prices are. Besides, talking to won't change anything; it's my boss who sets the prices."
"400 liters at 5,000 each—that adds up to 2 million Federation Coins to refill just once. That's a bit extre, isn't it?" Yalian frowned deeply, despite being sowhat prepared for travel challenges in the Northern Second District, he did not expect to be so troubled on the very first day.
"Like I said, those are my boss's prices. It's useless talking to . Why don't you discuss it among yourselves? I need to go back in; I've got lots of things to take care of," the young man with the floral scarf said, retreating back into the shop, leaving the young and inexperienced students outside.
They exchanged glances, none of them really knowing what to do in the face of such blatant exploitation—it was their first ti encountering such ruthless behavior abroad.
"Maybe we should ask Teacher N," one of them suggested.
"No need; he won't say anything. He emphasized before that unless we encounter a dire ergency, he won't intervene. We have to figure out everything by ourselves," another said.
"So what do we do? Are we really going to give him 2 million? It's not the money that bothers , but I can't stand taking such a loss," Ximu said, kicking a pebble on the roadside.
"Even if we wanted to, we couldn't. Our total funds for this trip are just 3 million. Using our own money would defeat the whole purpose of this exercise," another student reasoned.
"3 million... if this were the past, I couldn't even dream of it," Guluo shook his head, coming from an average inco family in the South Third District; he wasn't accustod to such profligacy.
"The main issue is we don't know the real cost of things here. If the prices truly are this high, then we have no choice..." Yalian said, pushing his glasses up.
"Impossible," Guluo stepped forward and shook his head.
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