Chapter Twenty-One: Rice for Guns

Overall, the small town had not suffered much destruction; many buildings remained intact. Yet as Xie Han walked along the street, he noticed a few differences. The storefronts on either side were riddled with dense bullet holes—undoubtedly the scars left behind from the days when the town was retaken and cleared of zombies. The street felt somewhat desolate; the once-bustling shops now mostly shuttered, with only a handful still open.

Xie Han’s curiosity was piqued. He hadn’t expected that, in this post-apocalyptic world where everyone lived in constant fear, there were still people bold enough to run businesses. He wondered what kind of trade could survive in such times. Glancing back, he saw all nine of his companions, led by Qi Feiwu, following him closely. This pleased Xie Han greatly—at least he now had a team in this new world. With proper guidance, it wouldn’t be difficult to turn them into capable allies.

The open shops bore no signs or advertisements indicating their business; even their doors were only half-ajar. Xie Han stepped inside one such store, finding it dimly lit, for there was no electricity. He swept his gaze across the room, which was packed with all manner of parts and components. A frail-looking man sat listlessly on the sofa, idly toying with a glass of clear water. So lost in thought was he that he didn’t even notice Xie Han’s entrance.

Not wishing to disturb the man’s reverie, Xie Han wandered over to the piles of parts, noting the incredible variety—everything from automobile components to firearm mechanisms, and even, to his astonishment, a cannon barrel over two meters long. He hadn’t expected to find such items for sale here, though he doubted he would have any use for them.

Just as Xie Han turned to leave, the daydreaming man finally noticed him. Placing his glass on the coffee table, he forced a wan smile and hurried over, saying, “Looking for something? I have parts for any kind of vehicle, even for restricted weapons. And best of all, everything here is very cheap.”

The man’s words sparked an idea in Xie Han’s mind, making him reconsider his decision to leave. Turning back, he smiled and asked, “Vehicle parts? But aren’t all vehicles under official control now? What good are these parts?” The man eyed Xie Han, then said, “You must be new here, right?” Xie Han nodded. The man chuckled, “Of course I know vehicles are under control. I’m not stupid; I’ve survived this long for a reason. These parts will come in handy—when it’s time for a hunt, you’d better pray your vehicle doesn’t break down.”

There was something unspoken in his words that Xie Han didn’t quite grasp. “What hunt?” he asked. The man merely smiled, sidestepping the question. “A hunt, you know… For a strong man like you, someone will explain it to you soon enough.” He leaned closer, voice dropping to a murmur. “I’m guessing your guns were confiscated too, right? Heh… In times like these, whoever has a gun has a say, you know…”

Catching the hint, Xie Han recalled the mention of restricted weapon parts and was suddenly intrigued. He tapped the counter lightly. “What kind of merchandise do you have?” The man brightened at Xie Han’s interest. “All types—long and short.” “Where’s the stock?” Xie Han asked.

The man simply grinned and began rummaging through the piles of parts. With deft hands, he picked out a few dozen components from the thousands available and started assembling them on the counter. His fingers flew, and in just over thirty seconds, he had pieced together a pistol. Placing it on the counter, he continued, and after another minute or so, assembled a submachine gun, which he set beside the pistol.

“Gun control may be in effect here, but who doesn’t keep something in reserve? Even if you’re caught, they’ll just confiscate the weapon, nothing more.” The man sounded quite pleased with himself. “If you want, I can even get you an infantry cannon—provided you have enough food to trade and the guts to go through with it.”

Xie Han picked up the submachine gun. He couldn’t tell the model, but it was clearly one that had only been issued to the army after 2009. The pistol, on the other hand, was not the old Type 40; its barrel was much larger. After inspecting both, Xie Han asked, “And the ammunition?”

The man grinned. “For the Starburst pistol, I’ll throw in fifty standard rounds and five explosive rounds. For the Rotary submachine gun, it’s a hundred and fifty rounds. Cash and carry—for the gun and the ammo.”

“How much for both?” Xie Han asked, weighing the Starburst pistol in his hand.

The man sneered. “Cash? In the apocalypse, banknotes are as worthless as scrap paper. Only gold or food has value now.”

Xie Han nearly forgot that in these times, currency had all but vanished. When survival is at stake, only glittering gold can rival the worth of food. In the apocalypse, gold and food had become the de facto units of trade. Xie Han had little gold on hand—just the rings and bracelets Qi Feiwu had given him. So he said directly, “I’ll trade rice. How much for the pistol and submachine gun?”

At the mention of rice, the man’s eyes lit up. He stared at Xie Han, swallowing hard. “Just ten jin of rice, and both are yours.” Xie Han let out a cold laugh. “Ten jin of rice? That’s over two hundred grams of gold.” The man faltered, then quickly added, “I’ll throw in twenty more explosive rounds and a hundred submachine gun rounds. If it wasn’t for the rice, I wouldn’t even consider the trade!”

Xie Han did a quick calculation. The price seemed fair. “Deal,” he agreed. He went to the shop entrance and waved to Xu Qiang. The rice, originally stored in barrels, had long since been transferred to burlap sacks—for obvious reasons. Xu Qiang was in charge of the rice. He hurried over, asking, “What is it, Xie… Xie Han?”

Taking the sack from Xu Qiang’s back, Xie Han said, “We’re trading rice for guns.” Xu Qiang panicked. “What do we need guns for? We’re staying in the base. Food is way more valuable than guns. We barely have any rice left as it is…”

Xie Han patted Xu Qiang’s shoulder. “With guns, we’ll find a way to get more food.”

There was less than twenty jin of rice in the sack. Xie Han weighed out ten jin, handing the rest back to the distressed Xu Qiang. “That’s enough for us all to eat two meals today. Trust me—there will be more rice.”

The man squinted, carefully stashing away the ten jin of rice. Only then did he lift a floorboard from beneath the mountain of parts, uncovering a hidden cache of magazines. He counted out the promised quantity, packed them in a bag, and handed them to Xie Han. “If you have more rice, I have plenty more good stuff.”

Xie Han took the magazines, kept the pistol for himself, and after loading the submachine gun, tossed it to Xu Qiang. Smiling at the man, he said, “You’re a shrewd businessman.” The man merely smiled and, ignoring them, raced upstairs, clutching his ten jin of rice with excitement.

Watching the still-worried Xu Qiang, Xie Han laughed. “Qiangzi, in these chaotic times, food is important, but weapons are even more so. As long as we have guns, we’ll find a way to snatch food right out of the zombies’ mouths. Trust me…”

_______

At last, the third update is delivered!