I Have a Post Apocalyptic Online Friend C6.1

Hey, first of all, thanks for reading my lousy Machine Translation. To be honest, I’d really like it if you guys corrected the mistakes I made. But please speak nicely and politely. My heart is not strong enough to read your too-harsh comments. Have a nice day. 🙂

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Chapter 6. part 1

Lu Yuan, seemingly aware of her nervousness, deliberately kept her in suspense. “It’s decent.”

Zhou An’an: “What does ‘decent’ mean? Just tell me already!”

Lu Yuan: “362 pieces.”

362 pieces sold in just one week?!

That’s over 20,000 yuan earned in just one week!

Even after Xinfeng takes its cut according to the contract, I’ll still clear over 10,000 yuan!

Oh my god! I’m rich!

Fearing he was teasing her, Zhou An’an opened the spreadsheet herself and checked it over and over. It really was 362 units.

Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes.

Lu Yuan: “The results are good, but I think there’s still room for improvement. Keep up the good work.”

Just then, Gu Zhao also sent a message: “The trial launch went well. Several major stores have decided to increase their sales efforts. You’ll need to prepare more inventory to avoid stockouts.”

Zhou An’an quickly asked: “How much should I prepare?”

Gu Zhao: “At least a month’s supply. Around 3,000 units.”

It already took her from dawn till dusk just to pack 1,000 units.

3,000 units? Even if she grew two extra arms, she wouldn’t be able to finish.

Besides, she was already juggling multiple roles—procurement, shipping, finance, and more. There was no way she could handle it all.

But if she refused Gu Zhao, all her previous efforts would be wasted, and it would be a huge disservice to his help.

Zhou An’an forwarded Gu Zhao’s message to Lu Yuan.

Lu Yuan: “Time to scale up. The wage slave is turning into a capitalist.”

Zhou An’an felt uneasy. “Do I really have to expand? What if I rent a space, hire people, and buy all the raw materials, only to find that the products don’t sell? I’d lose a fortune.”

Lu Yuan: “Fortune favors the bold. This is a legitimate business—what are you afraid of?”

She still hesitated.

Lu Yuan: “Doomsday is in six months. Even if you rack up a mountain of debt, no one will be around to collect.”

Zhou An’an: “But if we don’t make money, we won’t be able to stockpile the supplies we need for Doomsday.”

Lu Yuan: “With me around, you won’t starve.”

His words brought her a small measure of comfort. Even when Doomsday arrived, she wouldn’t be facing it alone.

Zhou An’an: “Alright, I’ll try.”

Scaling up was a complicated process, requiring increased costs in many areas.

Fortunately, Gu Zhao, out of consideration for their old classmate connection, offered to pay her a 200,000 yuan deposit, with the remaining balance to be settled at the end of the month.

The deposit, combined with the money she had left, would be just enough.

Zhou An’an first purchased all the materials needed for the 3,000 survival kits. Thanks to the larger order, she was able to negotiate a lower price, bringing the cost per kit under 50 yuan.

Next, she immediately began searching for a suitable location.

The city center was too expensive, she definitely couldn’t afford it. Instead, she found a residential house in the suburbs.

The two-story house was nestled between a mountain on the left and a small lake on the right. A small grove of trees stood in front, beyond which lay a wide, flat asphalt road.

There were no other houses nearby, but a village was just two kilometers away. The stay-at-home mothers there would be perfect to hire for packing.

The rent was low—only 2,000 yuan a month—but it required a minimum six-month lease, with the full six months’ rent (12,000 yuan) paid upfront.

Just last month, Zhou An’an would have had to take out a loan to afford such a sum.

Now, however, it was no problem at all. She quickly got the keys.

After a tour of the house, she decided to terminate her city apartment lease and move here.

She would use the first floor for packing and live on the second. Waking up every day to a view of the forest and the lake would be pure bliss.

However, the house had been vacant for several years. It had no furniture, no appliances, and no broadband internet.

Zhou An’an called to arrange for installations, then contacted her landlord to terminate her apartment lease. Finally, she created a hiring notice and made a dozen or so copies.

She posted one on the door of the small house. For the rest, she stood by the main road and handed them out to villagers passing by on bicycles.

Based on the wages at nearby factories, she set the packers’ salary at 3,500 yuan a month, with weekends off. The job didn’t include room and board, ran from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m., and offered overtime pay at 20 yuan per hour.

Many people applied. She hired five who seemed honest and hardworking—all of them had children in school, and the work schedule was perfect for dropping them off and picking them up.

The materials arrived, the workers started, and the small workshop began operating.

Zhou An’an bought herself a used electric scooter. There were no buses here, and her apartment lease hadn’t expired yet. She had to commute between the two locations daily, a round trip of nearly 30 kilometers.

Each time a batch of survival kits was ready, Xinfeng Supermarket sent a truck to pick them up. By the fourth pickup, she couldn’t stand the commute any longer and moved all her belongings to the house.

The journey was just too far. She often didn’t get home until midnight, only to wake up early the next morning. It was utterly exhausting.

The packers all admired her. They praised her for being so young yet already a boss, for being a college student, and for being beautiful—they practically made her sound like a goddess.

Whenever this happened, Zhou An’an wished she’d been born mute so she’d have a perfect excuse to ignore them.

Excellent? Her? Just a month ago, she’d been frying fries in the back of a fast-food kitchen, working grueling hours. Her life had felt as bleak and hopeless as the blackened oil in the deep fryer.

All these changes were thanks to Lu Yuan.

That night, lying on her bamboo mat and listening to the cicadas outside her window, she texted him: Once the final payment comes through, is there anything you want? I’ll buy it for you.

Lu Yuan: Made a little money and already trying to become my sugar mommy?

Zhou An’an’s cheeks flushed. It’s a thank-you gift!

Lu Yuan: You can’t afford what I want.

Zhou An’an thought of the weapons and gear he’d shown her before and couldn’t help asking: What do you plan to do with all that stuff? Save the world?

Lu Yuan: Destroy it.

Zhou An’an: Huh?

Lu Yuan: Do you really want to give me something?

Zhou An’an: Of course!

Lu Yuan: I’ve never seen a real flower. If you’re willing, give me a potted flower.

In the extreme cold, most plants couldn’t survive, let alone bloom.

As Zhou An’an read his message, she pictured a thin little boy sitting in a cold corner of the base’s perimeter wall, pitifully making his request.

She agreed without hesitation: “No problem!”

Lu Yuan: Good night. Go to sleep.

Busy times always flew by, and in the blink of an eye, a month had passed.

The 3,000 survival kits were delivered on time. Gu Zhao paid her the final balance, and the Procurement Manager sent over a second purchase contract.

When Zhou An’an saw the quantity requested in the new contract, her jaw nearly hit the floor.

Ten thousand kits.

She rubbed her eyes and asked the manager: Do you really need that many?

The manager sent her a video link. Clicking on it, she found a blogger reviewing her survival kit. The video had over a million views and more than eight thousand comments.

Zhou An’an skimmed through the review and comments—they were a mixed bag of praise and criticism.

But regardless, it meant her product was gaining traction.

Attraction means sales. That was an unchanging truth in this era.

Ten thousand survival kits were no small order.

Zhou An’an pulled out her calculator again.

Currently, each kit costs 50 yuan to produce. Xinfeng’s commission was 40 yuan, leaving her with a profit of 69 yuan per kit.

From the previous 3,000 kits, she had earned a total of 200,000 yuan. After deducting costs like rent and labor, her net profit was 160,000 yuan.

This time, with 10,000 kits, her net profit would likely be around 500,000 yuan.

For that much money, I have to do it, no matter how hard it is.

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