Ch 131: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World

Jiu Hua’s hesitation made Qingmei’s heart sink, but after a moment, she realized Jiu Hua had no obligation to help her—after all, they had only met for the first time today.

In truth, Qingmei felt comfortable staying in the sea, working busily but happily at the little fluffy shop. However, recently, she occasionally felt dizzy, nauseous, weak, and unwell. Driven by an instinct she couldn’t quite explain, she felt it was time to go back.

Seeing Qingmei’s state troubled Jiu Hua, bringing back memories of that news report.

The news hadn’t made major waves, like a drop in the vast sea, stirring only a small ripple before being swallowed by a larger wave. Jiu Hua had merely lingered on it briefly while collecting material.

The report described a young woman who found work in the central city and hadn’t contacted her family for three years. Worried, her parents tracked her down with great difficulty, only to be turned away because she was embarrassed by their rural farm background.

The mother cried outside her daughter’s apartment, drawing a crowd, as the daughter opened the door, intending to drive her parents away. During the ensuing struggle, the daughter accidentally fell from the second floor in her modestly secured rental.

She was taken to the hospital but has remained unconscious since. The news report was harshly worded, its stance clear, and included footage of interviews with the parents, an honest-looking couple from a remote farm, visibly distraught and unable to understand their daughter’s disdain.

At first, the story garnered considerable sympathy. Due to her job, Jiu Hua was more attuned to emotions than most, which often left her feeling drained. Reading the report, she furrowed her brows, two words surfacing in her mind—lies.

Returning to the present, Jiu Hua straightened her slumped shoulders, looked at Qingmei, and asked, “What do you want me to do?”

Jiu Hua had always preferred to observe from a safe distance, seldom actively agreeing to anything. She thought she lacked empathy and didn’t need anyone in her world. Like a mushroom growing in the shade, she absorbed nutrients quietly, grew freely, and withered alone. Providing nutrients to another mushroom before she withered away seemed like a unique experience to her.

Qingmei gripped her hand tightly, tears brimming, “Thank you.”

What she asked of Jiu Hua was the same as before: to check on her condition.

Lu Yao, who hadn’t spoken, chimed in after they finished, “If it’s inconvenient alone, shall I go with you?”

Jiu Hua blinked, silently taking a step back. “You’re coming to find me?”

Qingmei was equally surprised, “Boss, you can leave here?”

Lu Yao nodded, “I just surfaced and saw the coastline. Jiu Hua, do you know where that is?”

She was merely fishing for clues to determine their location, doubting it was truly nearby.

But Jiuhua hesitated, then nodded, “Nightlight City is a coastal city; the coast is on the outskirts. I…sometimes come to watch the sea, so I know the area.”

Qingmei was still digesting the fact that the boss could leave the garbage sea, while Lu Yao and Jiu Hua had already arranged to meet by the shore. To help Jiu Hua recall her plan upon returning, Lu Yao wrote a note and slipped it into her pocket, which, from experience, would be taken back by the guests.

Lu Yao wanted to ask Jiu Hua about her habit of “using a pen as a knife” on the water’s surface, but she had already transformed into a starfish and drifted away.

“She really does come and go freely.” Lu Yao suppressed her curiosity for now, preparing to head ashore.

At this point, Harold emerged from the bathroom. He’d just arrived from Alexander Continent, and upon hearing that Lu Yao intended to go ashore, he insisted on accompanying her as her protector, which was his primary purpose in this world.

When Lu Yao and Harold left, they encountered a pod of orcas, which enthusiastically escorted them close to the shore. Although visually, the garbage sea seemed no more than a hundred meters from the coastline, the actual distance was much longer. Lu Yao felt she’d swum at least five hundred meters before reaching the shore.

The orca pod lingered in the shallow waters, raising their rounded heads and squeaking, unable to move closer for fear of stranding.

Harold stepped on a magic array and led Lu Yao ashore, casting a casual glance at a certain male orca in the pod.

Orca A raised his head towards Lu Yao, squeaked once, and swam away without looking back.

Harold’s expression darkened slightly; this creature sometimes reminded him of Mumu’s initial days at the nail salon.

Lu Yao hadn’t noticed the silent exchange of glances between the small black dragon and Orca A.

The sun blazed fiercely as waves crashed against the rocks; the coast was deserted, and Jiu Hua had not yet arrived.

Lu Yao stepped onto the beach first, fingers pressed to her forehead. “Looks like we’ll have to wait a bit. Let’s find some shade.”

After about two hours, a black sports car pulled up by the seaside road, and Jiu Hua stepped out, carrying a bag.

The system alerted Lu Yao, who immediately stood up, “Jiu Hua! Over here!”

Jiu Hua picked them up and headed back to Nightlight City.

Sitting in the front passenger seat, Lu Yao glanced at Jiu Hua. She looked different from her appearance in the sea; her features hadn’t changed, but her aura and demeanor were noticeably distinct. Wearing a black, casual outfit with slightly wavy hair cascading over her shoulders, Jiu Hua focused her dark eyes ahead, driving with a calm but indifferent expression.

Aside from a few words upon their initial greeting, Jiu Hua had not spoken since they got in the car. She had dark circles under her eyes, which gave the impression of fatigue barely held in check. Lu Yao started to believe Jiu Hua might indeed have social anxiety.

In the back seat, Harold sat stiffly, slightly tense. He’d only seen such vehicles in comics and had been curious; now, he was actually riding in one. It felt entirely different from a carriage or flight.

Outside, the scenery began to change, and Lu Yao drifted into thought. The roadside trees appeared strange, resembling squares of colored blocks pieced together, each one identical.

Unable to hold back, Lu Yao asked, “Why do those trees look like that?”

Jiu Hua responded, “Those are simulated trees. They function like real plants, purifying the air and beautifying the environment, but they don’t shed leaves or require pruning.”

Lu Yao found this planning hard to grasp. She still believed real plants were irreplaceable.

As they moved from the outskirts toward the city, Lu Yao caught glimpses of this strange city’s entirety and stopped questioning it. Nightlight City could be summarized in three words—pixelated style. The greenbelts, buildings, residential areas, and shopping malls were composed of blocky, square color patterns with a cold, rigid tone, giving off a sense of a concrete forest.

Lu Yao also noticed the city lacked real plants. Every potted plant along the roadside was a simulation. The streets bustled with cars and pedestrians, but something felt monotonous and cold to her.

She frowned, pondering for a long time before voicing a hesitant observation, “It feels like there are only people here.”

Harold was glued to the window, his blue eyes shining, oblivious to Lu Yao’s words.

Jiu Hua, however, understood what she meant. “You’re right. Nightlight City is a central metropolis, rapidly developed, densely populated—a dream city for many. Both physical and conceptual living spaces have reached their limits here. There are no pets, no real plants, only people moving like cogs in a machine.”

The population was maxed out; there was no room for any other life forms.

If anything in this city could be considered scenic, it would be the occasional flock of sparrows sweeping across the sky. Yet, according to Jiu Hua, the number of sparrows was sharply decreasing each year.

After all, with no trees here, there’s no suitable ecosystem for them to survive.

The sparrows left in this city are a gang of “rogue” sparrows skilled at stealing food. When necessary, they even gang up to rob passing humans.

Lu Yao: “With no plants or animals, what do you eat?”

Jiu Hua: “Cities surrounding the central city have designated farms and ranches. Vegetables and meat are ordered from these rural farms and are thoroughly processed before being delivered to stores, where people just buy what they need.”

The car drove past a plaza with a towering statue at its center, about fifteen meters high.

The statue had elegant, grand lines, and even from a distance, Lu Yao could clearly see the figure’s ornate waist chain, adorned with something like pearls. The entire statue was intricate and imposing, the figure seeming to hover with a powerful presence, its head slightly bowed, exuding an indescribable warmth and compassion.

“What is that?” Lu Yao couldn’t resist asking.

Jiu Hua glanced at it. “The Deep Sea Goddess, Cui Huangxing. She’s the last deity said to remain in this world, and she’s our mother goddess in mythology.”

Lu Yao leaned forward, “So that’s the Deep Sea Goddess?”

A slight curve appeared in Jiu Hua’s eyes, with a faint hint of amusement in her tone. “Yes, she is our faith. I once thought she was merely a myth, until the day I found myself turned into a starfish. We haven’t been abandoned by the goddess; the mother goddess indeed still cares for humanity.”

The appearance of the Garbage Sea wasn’t an accident, but where exactly had the goddess gone?

Lu Yao’s gaze lingered on the statue, lost in thought.

After several turns, the Deep Sea Goddess statue faded from view, and Lu Yao recalled the purpose of this trip, prompting her to ask, “Have you tried contacting Qingmei’s parents?”

She wasn’t entirely clear on the situation of the reclusive fish in this world—whether they had fully transformed into fish in body and soul, or if only their consciousness had reached the deep sea.

Jiuhua shook her head, pulling out a device resembling a tablet and handed it to Lu Yao, “Here’s the previous news article. She’s different from us; her time is passing, though very slowly.”

In reality, it had been nearly half a month since Qingmei’s accident.

The text and language of this world were different from what Lu Yao was used to, yet she could still read it effortlessly, just like before.

After finishing the article and watching the interview with Qingmei’s parents, Lu Yao’s expression turned serious.

Qingmei couldn’t leave the Garbage Sea because she was in a coma in reality, unable to wake up—her consciousness was trapped in the sea.

Lu Yao’s impression of the report was similar to Jiu Hua’s. Knowing Qingmei better, she was sure that what the article described wasn’t the whole truth; there had to be more to the story.

Jiu Hua: “What’s your plan? Go straight to the hospital to find her parents, or head to my place first?”

Lu Yao made a quick decision: “We don’t have much time. We need to be back before the shop closes in the afternoon. Let’s go directly to the hospital. We don’t necessarily need to see her parents.”

Jiuhua: “So, we’re just going to see her?”

Lu Yao: “To find the cause of her coma and initiate physical awakening.”

Jiu Hua clicked her tongue softly, “Looks like I really brought a deep-sea witch ashore. Are you sure you don’t have a fishtail?”

Lu Yao quipped back, “Your social anxiety seems to have eased a bit?”

This comment reminded Jiu Hua, and silence fell over the car once more. The previously lively atmosphere suddenly vanished, making the silence feel strangely unsettling.

After a moment, Lu Yao spoke again, “This morning, how did you manage to do that?”

If the Deep Sea Goddess truly cared for humanity, she must favor Jiu Hua in particular. Among the reclusive fish, only Jiu Hua could freely enter and leave the Garbage Sea and wield a pen like a knife to achieve the impossible.

Jiu Hua tightened her grip on the steering wheel, blinking rapidly, and asked a question that Lu Yao found rather random, “Do you enjoy reading novels?”

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