Jiang Lai had only tried it out just now because she was bored.
She discovered that after putting the ship cabin she made into her backpack, she could dismantle and recycle it.
However, something that originally required twenty sets of upgrade materials could only be broken down into five pieces of wood and five nails.
It was just like the sunken ship she’d salvaged before—the materials you got back from dismantling were far fewer than what went into making the object.
Still, getting something back was better than nothing.
Sure enough, some quick-handed buyers who had already purchased her items had tested it out.
“Everyone, go buy from Jiang Lai! Her ship cabins can be dismantled, and you get 5 wood and 5 nails back!”
“Huh? Why didn’t you say so earlier? I just bought one from Li Haibo.”
“Hey, you should try it anyway! They’re all ship cabins—maybe Li Haibo’s can be recycled too?”
“Tried it. Disappointed. Currently heartbroken.”
“If you can recycle them, then the real price is just twenty materials. Anyone with a brain would buy from Jiang Lai.”
“Brothers, I’m in—go ahead and fight over them!”
“How are you all so fast? All six orders are gone already?!”
“It’s over, Jiang Lai’s ship cabins are off the shelves now…”
“You guys have some nerve. If you hadn’t all jumped on the hate bandwagon earlier, I wouldn’t have bought from Li Haibo.”
A chorus of wails filled the group chat.
But by this time, Jiang Lai had already wrapped up her business for the day and closed the trading platform.
Meanwhile, Li Haibo stood with his hands on his hips, furiously cursing.
He’d put in so much extra effort, but with just one word from Jiang Lai, he was the one getting yelled at again.
What kind of situation was this?!
Still, Li Haibo only ranted for about ten minutes before stopping.
After all, Jiang Lai’s orders were done, and he still needed to pull an all-nighter to make money.
Aside from Jiang Lai, he was the only one with a workbench. Someone else could take over the cursing, but no one else could make ship cabins.
But Li Haibo wasn’t the one who was most upset with Jiang Lai.
At this moment, Bai Yin was curled up in her newly installed ship cabin, leaning against the quilt Chang Fa had sent her, glaring at the public chat channel with clenched teeth.
Jiang Lai again!
Why is it always Jiang Lai!
Back in the real world, Bai Yin had been an entertainment streamer.
She’d realized as soon as she entered the game that her luck stat was abysmally low.
After fishing up two completely useless boxes in a row, she strategically shifted her survival strategy in this game.
Her plan: find someone powerful to rely on.
Bai Yin quickly cast a wide net, messaging all the “lucky gods” who’d shown off their good loot in the chat during the first two days.
Since she couldn’t get anything from the boxes, she pinned all her hopes on these men.
She chatted with them every day, providing emotional value, and with her streamer’s conversational skills, it was easy to get along with these lucky guys.
But these “lucky gods” were all sharp. They’d chat with her, but getting anything out of them took a lot of effort.
Among them, Chang Fa was the luckiest, and the one Bai Yin had invested the most time in.
Lately, Chang Fa kept bringing up a girl named Jiang Lai in their conversations.
With a woman’s intuition, Bai Yin knew Chang Fa didn’t have romantic feelings for Jiang Lai.
But she still couldn’t help feeling it was unfair.
Why, when they were both girls, did Jiang Lai have such good luck and get such great items?
Why was Jiang Lai able to get half the profits from that lucrative torch business?
Why could she now make and sell ship cabins, doing it even better than Li Haibo and earning everyone’s praise?
Bai Yin gritted her teeth and pounded hard on the ship cabin Chang Fa had given her.
She prided herself on her cunning and sophistication—she wasn’t inferior to anyone.
But Jiang Lai could so easily get everything she wanted.
The more Bai Yin thought about it, the more resentful she felt.
As she was stewing, her stomach suddenly growled.
All day, everyone had been focused on the ship cabin drama in the chat, and none of the men had much time to reply to her messages.
She opened her private chats, scrolled through the long list, and finally settled on one person, opening his message window.
“Brother Chang Fa, it’s getting dark—remember to eat dinner, okay? If you go hungry and get a stomachache, that wouldn’t be good.”
“Thank you, Yinyin. You remember to eat too. I caught a loaf of bread today—I’ll give you half, see if you like it.”
“Thank you, Brother Chang Fa, you’re the best.”
…
Meanwhile, Jiang Lai was roasting herself by the fire, munching on an apple.
She’d already moved her workbench into her room.
It was only because she’d upgraded her residence to level three that she could work indoors.
Outside, the sky had already darkened, and even before nightfall, snow was falling and the wind was howling.
Her room was bigger now, and she’d lined the inside with her old plastic sheeting.
Even wrapped in a military coat and sitting on a thickly padded bed, Jiang Lai still felt a little cold.
Only sitting close to the fire did she feel any warmth.
She could only imagine how those still stuck in their level-one boats were suffering in the biting cold.
Jiang Lai felt her room was a bit too empty.
Once she had some free time tomorrow, she’d have to use the workbench to make some furniture.
Making the room cozier would help keep the warmth in.
More importantly, if this extreme cold was the first real challenge the players faced after entering the game, then there would probably be a settlement or reward for clearing this “dungeon.”
Jiang Lai hadn’t forgotten the description of the small boat from before.
Residences with higher ratings would get rewards.
As for what the reward was, she had to see it for herself.
“Sigh, my private messages are about to explode from all these strangers. I had to scroll forever just to find our group chat. Have you guys gotten any SOS messages?”
“Yeah, I got some. It’s even colder tonight—most of them are desperate last-ditch pleas for help.”
“Where’s Sister Jiang?”
“I blocked messages from strangers.”
Ever since Jiang Lai stopped taking orders, she’d received tons of private messages.
Half of them were people hoping to buy more ship cabins from her.
Those were easy enough to politely refuse.
But many others sent her long, emotional messages.
They went on and on about how hard things were for them, how they were barely surviving, begging Jiang Lai to help them out, promising they’d never forget her if they made it big someday.
Jiang Lai ignored all of those.
But that wasn’t the end of it. When those beggars didn’t get a reply, they started getting angry, hurling insults at her.
Some of the things they said were truly nasty.
But none of it fazed Jiang Lai in the slightest. She simply blocked all private messages from strangers, planning to reopen them only when she wanted to trade again.
(End of Chapter)”
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