Dream Delivery System: My Delivery Jobs Keep Changing History – CH81

Chapter 81

“Let’s go to the recycling station first this afternoon.”

There was nothing left on the procurement list he needed, and the entire morning had already passed. He didn’t even know how the time flew by—his mouth was dry from talking, his energy drained, and his stomach was rebelling.

Ravenous, Jiang Jitang went to the kitchen, cooked himself a bowl of noodles just to quiet his stomach, then hopped on his little electric scooter to continue working. He had already arranged with Boss Zhang to settle the tricycle business that afternoon.

Only after dealing with the tricycles—the biggest expense—could he move on to the rest.

This was a big order, and Boss Zhang had been waiting for him.

“Would you believe it? Just the day before yesterday, I did maintenance on all the tricycles. Oiled the wheels and chains—rides smoother than new, and stable too.”

Boss Zhang was a talkative man. Even if he wasn’t familiar with someone at first, a few sentences were enough for him to chat like old friends.

The batch of tricycles was stored in the warehouse behind the recycling station. All were modified models, split into cargo-carrying and passenger-carrying types.

The cargo tricycles had a rear bed, and for a bit more money, even enclosed cargo boxes—similar to express delivery trikes. Perfect for carrying luggage.

The passenger tricycles had a small seat at the back, enough to squeeze in two people, with cushions and shock absorption. Add extra money, and they came with a foldable canopy. Very suitable for children, elders, and expecting mothers in the group.

Jiang Jitang was quite satisfied, but he refused to show it—instead putting on a picky face.
“Still usable? Look at the paint—it’s all rusted. Don’t let it fall apart the moment we hit the road.”

The more picky he acted, the more energetic Boss Zhang became. A customer who didn’t haggle wasn’t a real buyer—and this one was clearly buying.

“Ai, they’ve been sitting here, sun and rain make a little rust. Wipe it with a cloth and it’s gone. Good stuff, all of it. Try riding—solid as can be. Made of good steel, heavier than those new flimsy ones.”

As he spoke, Boss Zhang hopped on a tricycle and pedaled a circle. “See? Steady ride, no noise at all. And the brakes—brand-new brake pads!”

Jiang Jitang crouched down to check. Sure enough, everything had been recently serviced. He reluctantly nodded, “This one… is passable. Price?”

“If it were a single buyer, four to five hundred each. But you’re buying a hundred in one go—different price. How about 360?”

Jiang Jitang shook his head, “Leaving these here every day only depreciates them. I’m basically helping you clear inventory. They’re metal, sure, but refurbished after all. I can’t even see 360. I’ll offer 220.”

He wiped his hands with a towel and stood up.

He had already inspected the batch—quite good. Oiled chains, smooth rotation, replaced tires with little wear.

As for handlebars, brakes, and such, he tested them all one by one.

Only a few were not great—he’d simply exclude those from his selection.

But offering 220—that was a brutal cut. Boss Zhang’s face twisted in pain.

“Most of what you want are the ones with cargo boxes and canopies—they cost more. My stuff may be modified, but the materials are good. You’ll use them seven or eight years with no problem. 220 is too low—even selling as scrap metal would be more than that.”

He wasn’t wrong, but bargaining was a life skill—and an art. Not haggling felt like skipping a sacred ritual.

“360 can already buy brand-new tricycles. Here—my real offer: 230.” Jiang Jitang added 10 yuan per bike with great reluctance.

Boss Zhang didn’t get angry. A single order of 100 bikes was a big deal in a small place like this—small profit, fast turnover.

They haggled for nearly half an hour. Jiang Jitang even pretended to leave halfway. Boss Zhang suspected it was a tactic, but he couldn’t bring himself to lose such a large deal, so he repeatedly called him back.

Back and forth like this, finally—they settled at 260 per tricycle for all one hundred bikes. Boss Zhang even threw in: two extra sets of tires; chain repair tools; three children’s bicycles; ten air pumps.

Jiang Jitang was very satisfied.

He could’ve found new ones—sometimes desperate sellers would even let them go at this price. But then the sellers wouldn’t earn a cent—too ruthless. And those were all light tricycles, unlike these, which were modified from passenger trikes with heavier, sturdier frames and larger cargo capacity.

Aside from being a little ugly, they had no real downside.

On his notebook, Jiang Jitang ticked off “transportation” and wrote down 26,000 yuan.

After paying the deposit, the tricycles were loaded onto a large truck and delivered to the warehouse he rented beforehand. Jiang Jitang followed, and only after the tricycles were stored and locked did he pay the remaining balance.

His system backpack didn’t have enough storage space, so he wasn’t in a hurry to collect them. It was already 3:40 p.m., and he rushed straight to the pharmacy.

Jiang Jitang had his own categories for buying medicine: injuries and bruises; hemostatic and disinfecting medicine; fever and cold medicine; cough and lung-nourishing medicine; anti-diarrhea and abdominal pain medicine; painkillers and anti-inflammatory drugs; children’s medicine; vitamin tablets.

Additionally, he needed: allergy medication; medicine for insect/snake bites; medicine for frostbite; physiological saline and glucose.

All part of standard wilderness medical supply lists—he simply borrowed them.

He had already confirmed with the system that these medicines would work on people in that world too.

Even though he chose the most cost-effective brands—many only costing 2–3 yuan per bottle—with so many categories and quantities, the total still reached 6,600 yuan.

Then he spent another 400 on thermometers, medicated oil, bandages, iodine, alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, and medical tape.

Total for medicine: 7,000 yuan.

“It’s too late. Food and daily necessities will have to wait until tomorrow.”

The sun was setting—time to head home. Work was important, but life was too. With the medicines sorted, Jiang Jitang relaxed, driving home at an unhurried pace.

Behind him, two long black cars stopped at the mouth of the alley.

“We’re here.”

Both cars stopped. The fruit shop owner next door was eating a melon.
“Who’s blocking the road now?”

“Maybe the house buyers? Heard the auntie next door sold her place.” A neighbor enjoying the fruit shop’s AC guessed.

“Is it this one?”
The agents in the back car peered at screens and out the windows.
“Looks tiny.”

“Excluding the yard, eighty-seven square meters, three floors and an attic. The family had an accident—the wife and child passed away—so the owner rushed to sell.” Sam reported.

“No swimming pool?”
“No.”

“No private theater?”
“I don’t think so.”

“How do people live like this? Can’t even fit.”

“I think you’re misunderstanding,” Nick finally looked up. “This is the boss’s private residence. Meaning—you don’t need to worry.”

“……”
Awkward silence.

“Even for the boss, this is small. Eighty square meters, and an old house at that…”

“No idea,” Nick said, looking at the front car. “Boss has his reasons.”

“Maybe the owner of the pink charm lives nearby?” the chubby agent blurted out.

Everyone looked at him with a “you sweet, dumb child” expression.

“…Right.” He shut up, realizing how stupid that sounded.

They joked in private about whether Parsons had suddenly developed feelings recently, but no one believed romance could influence him.

Trying to sway Parsons’ decisions had two possible outcomes: At best, he’d dump a mountain of work on you for ‘being too free’. At worst, he’d consider you a distraction and fire you on the spot.

No one could pry work out of this man’s hands. No one.

And in the front car, Parsons had already heard every word—they were parked too close.

“Boss, should we get out here?” the driver asked.

“No. Just came to take a look.”

The agency hadn’t recommended this house—too old, over twenty years, with outdated wiring and plumbing. But as soon as Parsons saw the address—he decided it was the one.

The moment it was listed, he bought it.

He planned to hire two renovation teams to work in parallel, replace furniture and appliances, redo wallpaper and floors, overhaul water and electricity—within three months, easily finished. With more money—faster.

Will he feel troubled?

Parsons looked at the pink gemstone in his palm.

This area was perfect—market and park within a kilometer, school and stadium nearby, surrounded by residential blocks. Convenient for life, and calming for people like them.

Plenty of restaurants too.

Good for after-dinner walks.

This place is great, Parsons declared to himself.

The cars drove off.

Jiang Jitang only learned that the house next door had a new owner when he went out to get dinner—thanks to the neighbors talking.

“Those earlier were the buyers, no idea who they were.” The fruit shop owner tossed aside melon rind.

“Really? Sold that fast?” Jiang Jitang munched on melon.

The husband of the late auntie next door had lost his wife and child—devastated—and wanted to sell the house and return to his hometown. He had just mentioned selling it, and it was bought already?

“What a pity,” Jiang Jitang sighed.

He had wanted to buy the house himself. Build a little ‘bridge’ between the two. His mother living on the left, him on the right—even if she married later, he could always stay close.

“A pity for her,” the fruit shop owner agreed. “We got along so well, and she passed so young.”

“Life… no one can predict,” others murmured.

“Wonder what the new neighbor is like.”

Jiang Jitang originally planned to ask Sister Xia whether the buyer had anything to do with him.

Not that he was narcissistic… but such an old property in an average location was hard to sell—and it even had a death in the house. Yet the moment it was listed, someone bought it. The logical guess was: someone came prepared.

He was practically a “resource point” here.
Someone buying a house near him wasn’t far-fetched.

After leaving the fruit shop, Jiang Jitang tossed the thought aside.

“Ahh, my shoulders are so sore—even mentally. Moved so many things today… Time to reward myself! Little Eyes, tonight we’re eating Grandma Lao’s braised pork—let’s go!”

“Iron-plate taro, iron-plate beef, iron-plate squid!” Golden Eyes drooled midair.

Jiang Jitang sprinted off like a gust of wind. The fruit shop owner chuckled to the other aunties, “This kid is so full of life every day—just looking at him makes me happy.”

“Isn’t he though?”