Today was clear turning to overcast, and the radio mentioned that there would be a torrential downpour late at night, along with a flood warning.
"Rain, huh... let it pour."
For Xia Beiluo, who picked up bottles in the back alleys, it didn't make much of a difference. She stuffed the bottles into a urea bag and then secured them tightly on the back seat of her bicycle, padding the interior with some newspapers and straw to prevent the bottles from clashing and breaking.
Xia Beiluo had recently landed a good gig, a newly-opened pub was paying high prices to recycle bottles with The Church's labels, seemingly to pirate The Church's seal. This allowed them to market the products under the guise of "The Church's authorization," jacking up the price by 1.8 Lingge.
If lucky, the big bag could earn her fifty Lingge, provided she didn't run into the punks from the Black Snake Gang; otherwise, she'd barely clear twelve and sometimes even less than ten Lingge.
Thump.
