"Come, this is the place," said the tall and thin supervisor, directing Blu to a warehouse door where a truck with its cargo compartment already open was parked, and the driver was sitting nearby, smoking and resting.
"Old Gu, you finally fucking showed up; we've been waiting here so long we could've faded into nothing," the driver said, his face scruffy with stubble, his shoulders and arms bulging with muscle, his tone coarse.
"Well, I'm here now, aren't I," the skinny assistant supervisor replied briefly before checking out the boxes inside the truck.
"How many boxes are there?"
"31 boxes of lychee, 42 boxes of watermelon, 12 boxes of strawberries, 5 boxes of blueberries... fucking transporting watermelons is a real loss," the driver reported from his personal terminal, item by item, while continuing to complain.
Although watermelons had been selling well recently, their low price compared to other fruits meant their profit margin wasn't great.