pertwk Chapter 3 Street Survival Skills
Chapter 3 Street Survival Skills
Riley glanced at Simon Lin—his back was ramrod straight, the muscles in his arms were clearly defined, and his own wrist, which had been gripped so tightly earlier, was still numb. This suddenly gave him a plan:
This guy is really strong. If they go to the Fiery Bar together, no other homeless people will try to steal their bottles.
A year on the streets had worn away his affectation; the unpleasantness of being tricked earlier seemed to have been swept away by the wind, and all that remained in his eyes was the bright prospect of "making more money."
He shoved the empty phone box haphazardly back into his hoodie pocket, dusted off his hands, and said, "Come with me!"
His voice was tinged with excitement as he turned and walked towards the alley entrance, his steps much faster than before.
Simon Lin followed behind, watching Riley expertly turn into another street.
The trash cans by the roadside were overturned, and moldy bread and torn tissues were scattered all over the ground.
Riley pulled a large cloth bag from his pocket, bent down and pulled two undamaged plastic bottles from the pile of trash, then threw them into the bag.
"I always carry this with me, otherwise I won't be able to carry all the items I collect."
Without turning his head, Riley squatted down and pried out a plastic bottle stuck in the crack.
The two walked along the street, picking up about ten bottles along the way.
Along the way, Lin Ximeng picked up items while observing his surroundings:
Large patches of plaster have peeled off the walls of the houses along the road, and the windows are covered with a thick layer of dust. Occasionally, a homeless person can be seen huddled on the steps with a numb and vacant look in their eyes.
This was completely different from the Los Angeles he had seen in videos in his previous life—there was no Hollywood star power, no Beverly Hills luxury, only a lingering stench and garbage everywhere.
"Is this area not cleaned?"
Lin Ximeng thought to himself, watching them pick up the bottles scattered all over the ground, it looked like homeless people were cleaning up the city.
"Hey, these need to be kept separate," Riley suddenly nudged the can in Simon Lin's hand.
"Aluminum cans are 5 cents each at recycling centers, while plastic bottles are only 4 cents each. If you mix them together, they'll deduct money from your pay."
As he spoke, he took out another bag and handed it to Lin Simon, gesturing for Lin Simon to put the can inside.
The two chatted as they picked things up, and soon they reached the alley behind the Fiery Bar—
The sour smell of spoiled beer foam mixed with the stench of rotting garbage, seeping into my nostrils.
The two waist-high metal trash cans were rusty, with the lids hanging crookedly to one side, and black stains running down the sides of the cans.
There were quite a few bottles and cans on the ground: beer cans, cola bottles, and some empty bottles of spirits with foreign writing on them.
Riley rushed to the trash can, reached in and started rummaging through it, throwing the cloth bag on the ground.
The trash can was full of sticky food scraps and a few clumps of vomit that smelled fishy. He frowned and rummaged through it for a long time, only managing to pull out a flattened aluminum can, which he tossed into his bag with a disgruntled expression: "What a pity, this can has already been emptied."
Riley's face was full of regret: "Last month I was lucky and found a silver watch in this bucket. The strap was barely worn, and I sold it for $80."
"The competition here is too fierce. Many homeless people come here. If you arrive even a little late, your valuables will have already been taken."
Lin Ximeng nodded, understanding dawning on him—this was the "treasure chest" he had heard about before.
He had read online in his previous life that the gap between the rich and poor in Los Angeles was outrageously large; some old items that the rich casually threw away were huge sums of money for the homeless.
But the wealthy neighborhoods are guarded by security guards, so homeless people can't get in at all. Therefore, trash cans have become treasure chests in places with high foot traffic such as bars and supermarkets.
However, he hasn't even gotten familiar with this neighborhood yet. Even if he finds something valuable, he doesn't know who to exchange it for. Instead of thinking about that, he might as well collect as many bottles as possible in front of him.
The two refocused their attention on the bottles around them. Just as Simon Lin put a beer can into his bag, he heard footsteps behind him.
He turned around and saw two elderly white men with small mustaches slowly walking over. Their jackets were dirty and torn, and each of them was carrying a large bag filled with bottles and jars.
The old men seemed to recognize Riley; their cloudy eyes lit up the moment they saw him. One of them, wearing a red jacket and holding a book of scriptures in his right hand, said, "Good boy, you look tired from collecting bottles. Shall we have the priest give you a shot?"
"Their arms?"
Lin Ximeng noticed that the old man in the red jacket on the left had dark circles under his eyes that looked like they were covered in ink, and his right forearm was covered with scabs from countless needle marks. His steps were as unsteady as if he were walking on cotton.
The one in the green jacket on the right was in worse shape; he had more needle marks on his forearm, and even his chin was somewhat deformed and crooked.
How much tobacco did those two smoke?
"Ignore them, let's go."
Riley looked at the two old men with disgust and tried to pull Simon Lin away.
Riley was already used to this kind of addict with a penchant for smoking marijuana.
It's hard to judge whether these people still have normal thinking ability. The most troublesome thing is getting entangled with them. Because Riley is thin, the best way has always been to stay far away from these people.
"No, we can't refuse a gift delivered to our door," Lin Ximeng said, his eyes lighting up when he saw the two of them.
The bags in the two old men's hands were bulging so much they looked like they were about to burst. Judging from their outlines, they contained at least thirty or forty bottles, more than the two of them had just picked up together.
"Good boy, time for your shot..."
The old man in the green jacket suddenly let out a strange cry, revealing a drooling smile, and pounced on Riley, his eyes unfocused yet filled with a madness.
Riley shrank back in fright, but Simon Lin took a step forward and punched the old man in the green jacket in the stomach.
The old man immediately bent over, as if his bones had been removed, the bag fell to the ground, and he clutched his stomach, groaning.
Seeing his companion being beaten, another old man in a red jacket pulled out a rusty piece of iron from his pocket and swung it at Lin Simon's back.
Hearing the sound of the wind, Lin Ximeng dodged to the side, while simultaneously hooking his foot on a plastic bottle on the ground. The bottle slid out with a "whoosh" and tripped right on the old man in the red jacket's ankle.
The old man in the red jacket fell into the garbage heap with a cry of "Ouch!" The bag in his hand was torn open, and dozens of bottles rolled all over the ground.
Lin Ximeng didn't give them a chance to get up. He walked over in a few steps, grabbed the trash can lid, and smashed it on the two old men.
After hitting them several times, the two old men's fingers trembled like leaves, clearly exhausted.
"Should we continue?"
Lin Ximeng's voice was cold. The two old men seemed to finally "wake up" from their hallucinations, and when they saw the strong Lin Ximeng, they made muffled pleas for mercy.
"Get out of here."
The two old men stumbled and scrambled toward the alley entrance, glancing back at the bottle on the ground every few steps, but didn't dare come back to pick it up.
[Skill Activation: Street Brawl lv.0 (Beginner) - You have learned to use the chaotic street terrain and debris to give yourself a combat advantage]
"Wow! That move just now—it was just like Jackie Chen on TV! When you dodged that old man, you even hooked your foot on the trash can, that was so cool!"
Riley was excited to see Lin Simon chase away the two old men. He squatted down and rummaged through the cloth bags the drug addicts had left behind. The clattering sound of the plastic bottles was exhilarating. When he looked up, he was full of curiosity: "Do all you Chinese people know this kind of kung fu?"
"More or less."
Lin Ximeng mumbled something, his gaze falling on the bulging bag. "Approximately how much are these bottles worth?"
"That's several dollars," Riley said, counting the money. "The ones we just picked up, plus these, are more than I usually find."
He slung the bag over his shoulder, grabbed Lin Simon, and headed towards the alley entrance. "Come on! I know the nearest recycling station is three blocks away. This is the perfect time to go—if you're lucky, you might even run into the recycling station owner giving out free sleeping bags, the waterproof kind."