"Customer, your meal is ready, please use it slowly." A man with a burly figure and a not-so-clean white apron on his chest brought a stainless steel plate to Qi Lin.

He is both a chef and a waiter, and the owner of this small restaurant.

This fly restaurant located on the second floor of the street is only 20 to 30 square meters, with three tables and a bar. It is now 2:00 pm, and the hotel has passed. Apart from Qi Lin, the only diner, there is only the restaurant owner.

The food on the stainless steel plate is not exquisite. Whether it is potato cubes or fried lunch meat, it smells of choking smoke. A few slices are obviously taken from the can. The only side dish on the plate is the rice worth eight resources. Although the taste is not delicious, it is better because it is full of portions.

The consumption level of residents in the middle area is still much higher than that in the slums. In the slums, a large bag of paste-like synthetic food can be eaten for three or four days. However, in the middle area, the average meal standard for ordinary people reaches about five o'clock.

Qi Lin fiddled with the plate of fried rice with a spoon, then called the restaurant owner who had just turned around and walked towards the bar.

The restaurant owner turned around and wiped his big hands on the apron around his waist, with a look on his face a little confused: "What's wrong? Guest, do you want to order something else?"

Qi Lin did not speak, but instead took out half of the "Hongta Mountain" left over from the old era from his pocket and stuffed it into the pocket on the apron of the restaurant owner.

"Boss, I'll ask you about something."

"No problem, no problem, please ask the customer." The restaurant owner was stunned at first, then subconsciously reached into his pocket, touched the half bag of "Hongtashan", and a very enthusiastic smile immediately appeared on his face.

The quality of cigarettes in the old era, even those cheap and low-end products, was much better than the inferior products supplied in the shelter, but one less is the same as one of them. For example, this bag of Hongtashan, which only sells for seven yuan in the old era shop, can be sold at a high price of nearly one hundred resource points in the underground black market of the shelter.

Half Box Hongta Mountain is almost fifty points of resource points, which is much more expensive than the meal ordered by Qi Lin.

"What is the name of the company opposite?" Qi Lin pointed to the big yard of the Red Shirt Gang on the street outside the window.

A strange look appeared on the restaurant owner's face and asked, "Customer, you are not a local, are you?"

"No?" Qi Lin shook his head, "I came to do business from Shelter No. 192. Unexpectedly, just a few days after I arrived here, the passage between the shelters was closed, and I don't know when it will reopen."

"No wonder, let me tell you, the name of the company opposite is 'Wia Trading Co., Ltd.', cough cough..." The restaurant owner coughed, then came to Qi Lin's ear and lowered his voice, "But we locals all know that the name of the company is just a cover. Although it is operating the pharmaceutical trade on the surface, another name of this Wia Trading Co., Ltd. is even more famous..."

"What's the name?" Qi Lin continued to pretend to be stupid.

"Red Shirt Gang. This is the largest gang in our shelter No. 187. The Via Trade's drug business only accounts for a very small part of the Red Shirt Gang's turnover. Those drugs, arms and population transactions are the big part of the money."

"There are still arms? Can you buy guns and bullets from them?" Qi Lin asked in surprise.

"Of course!" said the restaurant owner, then his eyes suddenly narrowed and asked mysteriously: "Why, guest, do you want to play with a few guns?"

"What do you mean? Boss, do you have any ideas?" Qi Lin was worried about how to get into the Red Shirt Gang's base and how to find a warehouse for storing weapons. But now he saw that the boss of this inconspicuous fly restaurant seemed to be able to help him.

"Hehe... I'm going to tell you that my brother-in-law just works in the Red Shirt Gang, otherwise I wouldn't have such a good street shop. If you want to buy a gun, you can find my brother-in-law. We will only get 20% of the agency fee."

According to the current price of guns on the black market, the cheapest one is hand-assembled local pistols. This type of pistol has poor range, accuracy and reliability. It can only load one bullet at a time, and it is particularly prone to get stuck or exploded. However, even for this kind of inferior pistol, one pistol will be sold for more than 60 or 70 resource points.

As for a crude imitation 54 semi-automatic pistol, the price has now reached more than 300 points. If it is a product from the old era, it will still be one or two times based on this price.

However, if it is a genuine Type 54 pistol produced by a regular military factory, without a four-digit or above point, it will not be able to eat it at all. As for the Type 95 assault rifle, it will be completely in a state of pricelessness.

The agency fee of 20% is not a small amount. No wonder the restaurant owner suddenly became so enthusiastic.

"Well... I really want to buy a civilian big black star. I wonder if you can get it." Qi Lin asked.

Civilian Big Black Star, this is the common name for ordinary people to imitate the Type 54 pistol. This pistol is simple in structure and powerful, and is considered to be one of the best among several folk imitation weapons.

In China, until the outbreak of nuclear war, the ban on guns for ordinary citizens was not lifted. Therefore, in the shelter in China, it was much more difficult to get a gun than the United States on the other side of the ocean, and the price paid was much higher.

"Big Black Star, right? Okay, no problem. Guest, please wait a little while here, I'll find my brother-in-law." After that, the restaurant owner generously poured Qi Lin a full glass of homemade beer, and then hurried downstairs.

Qi Lin raised his glass, took a sip, and his eyebrows immediately frowned. This ghost beer was so sour as if it were urine. Even the coffee made by Hans would probably taste better than this.

...

The restaurant owner left for about twenty minutes and then returned. Behind him, a guy wearing a water-milled denim, a pair of ripped casual pants, and a colorful hair dyed in chicken coop.

To use a popular term from the old era, this guy is a typical "Shamatt non-mainstream".
Chapter completed!