18 Floors Above the Apocalypse
Chapter 115

The man was a member of the Wreath Society, and before the apocalypse, many people came to him requesting his works. Even for a simple wreath, he never charged less than five thousand dollars. Who would have thought that when disaster struck, what he was good at and proud of wouldn't even trade for a single grain of rice.

His family was on the brink of ruin, without any food to bring back, they wouldn't even make it through the night.

There was plenty of flour in Arcadia, but none of it was renewable. They had planted a small field of wheat, but who knew if it would bear any crop. Stella was reluctant to part with it, "A pound of potatoes?" Renewable resources were no issue, and the next harvest of potatoes was nearly ready.

The middle-aged man paused, then nodded eagerly.

The man had accounted for some bargaining when he proposed half a pound of flour. Yesterday, a customer had wanted to buy, and he had dropped the price to a few ounces of flour, but the deal had ultimately fallen through.

Stella pulled out four black-skinned potatoes from her bag. They weighed over a pound, and she handed them to the man, hidden behind an unrolled scroll of cloth.

These had been set aside to freeze a few days ago; she wouldn't dare show off the fresh ones unless she had a death wish.

The man peeled the potatoes with his fingernails, and seeing the fresh meat inside, quickly stashed them in his pocket. Here, making money was one thing, and bring back food was another.

With the wreaths in hand, Stella continued her walk.

Coincidentally, she ran into the guy who owned the pet clinic.

The deworming medicine would last for three or four years, but Stella still felt it wasn't enough. After all, her dog, Cooper, would be with her for the rest of her life.

Cooper was getting smarter and was replaceing his toys too childish. He preferred to keep his rabbit toy pinned to the ground and rub it. However, she did want a backpack, and a few incredibly stylish pet clothes. Adding it all up, it was a significant haul, traded for three pounds of frozen potatoes.

As she walked, she was suddenly bumped into. Stella swiftly turned and grabbed the man's hand, pressing a sharp dagger against his waist, and coldly said, "Got a death wish?"

The man was a pickpocket, with a sharp blade in his hand. Assuming a girl would be an easy target and could be scared off easily, he didn't expect to meet such a tough opponent.

The man struggled to escape. For such habitual offenders, Stella didn't hold back, delivering a punch to his temple. The temple was a weak spot, a punch wouldn't be lethal, but it would certainly knock him out.

The man collapsed, unconscious. Stella didn't look back and continued her stroll.

The other people turned a blind eye, their expressions numb. They didn't even know where their next meal was coming from, let alone concern themselves with the fate of others.

The security patrol arrived upon hearing the news. Seeing the man was still breathing, they quickly began to resuscitate him, and were surprised to replace various blades, daggers, and kitchen knives on him. No need to say it, he was a criminal. They handed him over to the police station to send him to the western mountains to mine coal.

Having nearly finished her shopping, Stella was about to return home when a man wrapped up tight came over, "Miss, do you want some meat?"

Stella felt the voice sounded familiar. After sizing him up for a moment, she said, "Monkey?"

Monkey was taken aback, "Do you know me?"

That was him. He had monkey-like cheeks, hence the nickname.

Stella pulled down her scarf and face mask, "It's me."

"You?" The Monkey nearly screamed, blood rushing to his head in excitement.

Five hundred thousand dollars!

When he had made that deal back then, his boss had personally praised and rewarded him. But who knew, the flood didn't recede, and the extreme cold came.

Civilization vanished, and the glory of the past turned into crap. His boss publicly chewed him out.

Five hundred thousand pieces of waste paper, he didn't know how to deal with it. However, they were an organization that honored their commitments, and they had to accept the outcomes of their deals. Suppressing his raging emotions, The Monkey put on a professional smile, "Miss, do you want meat?"

"What kind of meat?"

"Pork and beef."

Stella had gotten 68 pigs, so she wasn't worried about pork for the rest of her life, but she only had 200 pounds of beef.

Beef was heavy and shrank a lot when cooked, and 200 pounds wasn't much. They could only cut a few ounces each time to satisfy their cravings, and it felt rather stingy. So Stella was tempted. "How much do you have?"

"How much do you want?"

"I need as much as you have."

Monkey immediately became alert, "Can you eat that much?"

It couldn't be that she was trying to compete with them, could it? Those guys had sold fish to them before.

"You don't need to worry about how much I eat. Just tell me if you're selling."

It was stupid not to do business when there was an opportunity. Monkey led her to a secluded corner and spoke frankly, "We don't accept paper money anymore."

Stella understood. He was traumatized. "That's obvious; the government doesn't accept it either."

Monkey felt like he had been punched in the gut. Taking a deep breath, he said calmly, "The cow was just slaughtered, and the beef was very fresh. But what will you use to exchange for it?" "What do you accept?"

"Gold, silver, jade, flour, cooking oil, grains, anything valuable." Monkey had been thinking about the fish from last time, "Do you have fish? Five pounds of fish for one pound of beef."

Both Stella and Cooper loved fish. Despite the fact that Stella had hoarded a lot of it, the weight decreased significantly after gutting, and what if she accidentally lived to be 99?

It was all meat, and trading five pounds for one pound was not a good deal for her.

As for the other things in Arcadia, everything she hoarded had its uses, and the items she scavenged would have more bargaining value in the future.

She had plenty of vegetables, but it would be too conspicuous to bring them out.

After some thought, she decided to choose something that she wouldn't use now or in the future but would be highly valuable to others. Stella quickly came up with an idea and whispered, "Do you want protections?" Protections? He was confused at first.

Monkey quickly got it and his eyes lit up with excitement, "Yes!"

Stella pondered, "How do we trade?"

With almost three thousand of them, it was a waste to keep them in Arcadia. It would be better to trade them for something practical.

"Twenty for a pound of beef."

Stella was speechless and turned to leave without another word.

"Miss, let's negotiate." Monkey quickly held her back, "Fifteen for a pound of beef."

"Let go."

"Ten."

"Let go."

Monkey was about to cry, "Eight, I really can't go any lower."

Stella calculated, "One."

Monkey nearly vomited blood, "Are you joking!"

"The market rate is five pounds of grain for one, and those are counterfeit or even second-hand, and the price is still rising. What I have are original imports. Ordinary people can't afford it, but your clients are the wealthy. The wealthy eat meat and drink wine every day. They may lack anything, but they will never lack meat, and ordinary survivors can't afford to trade grain for meat, so your trading partners are the wealthy. You guys flip a deal and at least double your profits. If you hoard, you'll only gain more in the future."

This drove Monkey up the wall. He'd dealt with a lot of hard-nosed people, but he'd never met one as shrewd as her. "Sure, we aim to profit from every deal, but you're bleeding us dry here."

"If you think it's unfair, then let's call it off."

There was no such thing as a forced deal in business, Stella was ready to walk away.

"Hold on." The Monkey gritted his teeth, "How much do you have?"

"However much beef you've got, that's how much I can trade."