Ch 134: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World

“Number 1042, eat faster!”

“Your hair is affecting your studies. Don’t keep it long—cut it above your ears.”

“What are you doing on the micro-brain? It’s time to study.”

“Where did you get these books? Burn them all.”

…

“Intelligence test for Number 1042: 195. Physical test: Grade F.”

“Really 195? But she looks blank, like she can’t think.”

“No, her personality is incomplete, unable to adapt to further experiments.”

“Number 1042 determined to be defec—tive—stock.”

Jiu Hua jolted awake, irritably ruffling her hair. She found herself lying on the sofa with a light gray blanket draped over her shoulders.

The room was silent. Two pairs of slippers were neatly arranged at the entrance. Lu Yao and Harold had gone out, likely to visit Qingmei at the hospital.

Jiu Hua raised her hand, massaging her brow. Life had been too lively lately, leading to some bad habits.

They’d only visited her home twice, yet with their departure, the room seemed inexplicably empty—strangely so.

A dark mood, like damp moss or sweat seeping from her skin, gradually soaked through her clothes, leaving a sticky, uncomfortable feeling.

Jiu Hua got up, drank a glass of water, and walked barefoot to the entryway, slipped on her slippers, and went out.

Gray clouds, heavy as a thick winter quilt, pressed down over half the sky.

Jiu Hua lay flat on the rooftop of the apartment building, her gaze unfocused.

A sparse flock of sparrows flew by in the distance, the clouds sinking even lower.

There’d be a storm today.

Jiu Hua closed her eyes slowly. The cold wind brushed her skin, chilling her thoughts until they gradually stilled.

“What are you doing?” a curious boy’s voice asked.

Jiu Hua opened her eyes suddenly, meeting Harold’s furrowed brows. She blinked, “Why are you back?”

Judging by their previous routine, she thought they’d stay at the hospital until afternoon and then return to the Deep Sea directly.

Harold hoisted her up. “It’s going to rain. Lu Yao said we’ll go back to the shop after the rain stops. Come down and open the door.”

Breaking in wasn’t out of the question for him, but Harold had forbidden it.

Downstairs, Lu Yao stood at the door, holding two bags of groceries, looking quite pleased. “Looks like it’s going to rain. I bought some groceries, along with fresh seafood from the sea. Let’s have hotpot later.”

Jiu Hua entered the code, opened the door, and muttered softly, “Hotpot again… such a hassle.”

Harold overheard and boasted, “Lu Yao’s hotpot is amazing. You just have to wash the veggies.”

Jiu Hua: “…”

Jiu Hua’s apartment was spacious, high up, and well-appointed.

One wall in the living room had been opened up, creating a large one-way glass window.

Once they arranged the ingredients, they sat at the low glass table by the window.

Just as the hotpot came to a boil, the heavy rain arrived.

Jiu Hua stared out the window, lost in thought, as Lu Yao dipped a freshly boiled lobster into her bowl, “Just dipped, incredibly tender, and perfect with my special sauce—delicious.”

“Thank you.” Jiu Hua ate delicately, chewing slowly and savoring each bite.

Harold devoured food rapidly, piling up a small mountain of shells beside him.

As a dragon, lobster and crab shells didn’t pose much of a challenge, but they did affect the taste.

“Qingmei’s health has stabilized, but she’ll need more rest. She told me today that her old job position is still reserved for her, so she’ll return once she’s healed.”

Lu Yao kept adding ingredients to the pot, mostly fresh seafood and thin slices of meat that cooked in the broth almost instantly, which he then distributed to both Jiu Hua and Harold.

Jiu Hua nodded, “I figured as much. That’s a good outcome for her.”

Qingmei had spent a decade achieving her current position and had secured official residency in Night Light City. From here on, her life should be smooth.

Jiu Hua bit into an abalone, chewing laboriously before swallowing to speak again, “So you won’t be coming to Night Light City much in the future?”

There was a lot of online chatter about the “Little Pet Cafe .” Many people in this world were devotees of the Deep Sea Goddess, and the shop’s connection to sea of the goddess spread quickly online.

Some doubted the stories, but most who had read one of the “800 firsthand accounts about the Little Pet Cafe” from visitors were eager to visit.

Lu Yao nodded, “I’d like to explore the city more, but we definitely won’t have time for a while. With Qingmei gone, we’re short-staffed at the shop—it’s too hectic.”

“True.” Jiu Hua nodded, appearing oblivious to any hint.

Lu Yao served her more food, and as they finished the hotpot, the downpour turned to a drizzle.

After tidying up the kitchen, Jiu Hua found a book, nestled on the sofa, and read, paying no attention to her two guests.

Harold, having finished washing the dishes, sprawled on the carpet and fell asleep.

Lu Yao, with his objective still unmet, paced around the room.

Jiu Hua’s apartment was filled with books and various electronic devices, with densely written notes scattered everywhere.

With her permission, Lu Yao began browsing the books on the shelf.

History, geography, natural sciences… Just one scan by the system could save the complete content.

Surrounding Night Light City were eight similar cities, collectively known as Star Cities, although they were far less developed.

Eighty percent of each Star City’s land was used for crop cultivation and livestock farming, and each had its own unique specialties.

Transport and communication between these cities were maintained by fleets of ships.

World history was said to begin with the descent of the Mother Goddess to the Emerald Emperor Star, where legend has it the world’s surface was once entirely covered by seawater, with no land. The Mother Goddess used her divine power to create a refuge for humanity.

…

After gaining a general understanding of the world, Lu Yao continued exploring the bookshelf, noticing two rows of books whose style starkly contrasted with the others.

Jiu Hua’s books covered a variety of subjects, from simple content to extremely esoteric material.

However, these two rows of books had vibrant covers, with web novel-esque titles that piqued Lu Yao’s curiosity. She opened one, read a few lines, and soon found herself sitting cross-legged, engrossed.

She read almost half a book before realizing her neck was sore. Stretching, she was surprised to discover she’d been so thoroughly absorbed.

It was an enjoyable novel, mainly because the plot was lighthearted and entertaining, making it exceptionally relaxing to read.

For someone from another world like her, it was a fascinating first encounter.

Standing up, Lu Yao scanned the bookshelf, looking for another book to capture her interest. Suddenly, her gaze stopped as she glanced back down at the book in her hands.

Written by Jiu Zhi Maque.

All the differently styled books were works by an author named “Jiu Zhi Maque.”

Lu Yao looked over at Jiu Hua, sprawled on the sofa with a book covering her face, rising and falling gently with each breath.

There was a micro-brain on the coffee table in front of the sofa, which Lu Yao had used during her previous visits. It functioned much like a tablet.

She picked it up and searched for the name “Jiu Zhi Maque,” and thousands of results instantly popped up.

Jiu Zhi Maque, a genius novelist.

Since her debut, she’d published dozens of works with a lighthearted and witty style that brought joy to readers.

…

After reading the online information about Jiu Zhi Maque, Lu Yao found her serialized work’s website, where the comments section was polarized.

“The stories are so interesting, I love them!”

“Fantastic! My favorite author.”

…

“After so many years, it’s still the same old tricks, no improvement in writing.”

“The writing is garbage, the plot is garbage, the author is garbage.”

…

Lu Yao scrolled through the comments, her mood rising and falling with them.

Suddenly, the micro-brain was pulled from her hands. Jiu Hua had woken up and, rubbing her eyes, glanced at it. “Why are you looking at that?”

Lu Yao gently touched the tip of her nose and cautiously asked, “Do you dive into the garbage sea frequently because of those comments?”

Jiu Hua, Jiu Zhi Maque.

There was no need to ask further; they were the same person.

At first, Lu Yao assumed that Jiu Hua’s writing style was similar to the serious, concise language she used in the news reports she’d written for Qingmei—formal and precise, more suited for serious dramas.

Her apartment was filled with books mainly focused on social research and psychology. However, Jiu Zhi Maque was a well-known humorous writer online, famous for her lighthearted, comedic style.

Jiu Hua shook her head. “The reason I dive into the garbage sea probably isn’t because of that.”

Lu Yao: “Then what is it? I’m really curious.”

Jiu Hua stared at Lu Yao for a moment. “Do you know what the sign of a story’s death is?”

Lu Yao shook her head, then thought for a second and offered, “Is it when the author is constantly being denied?”

Jiu Hua waved her hand. “For me, it’s when I lose confidence in the world I’ve created. When an author loses confidence, that pen, which once seemed magical and capable of creating anything, comes to a halt. A writer without confidence is as useless as trash; the slightest emotional turmoil can topple them. Every time I go to the Little Pet Cafe, it’s because my mind has weakened, and I feel like trash.”

Lu Yao blinked. “You don’t have to be so hard on yourself. Maybe you’re just exhausted, and a good rest would help you recover.”

Surprisingly, Jiu Hua nodded. “Yes, I’ve grown accustomed to my emotions collapsing at any time, anywhere. Most of the time, sleeping helps. But going to the Little Pet Cafe is even better for recovery. In that sea, I feel invincible. After visiting twice, I wanted to return, trying many ways to get back. I eventually found that when I start to doubt my world and the line between reality and fantasy blurs, I succeed.”

Lu Yao: “… What kind of creature is a novelist?”

Jiu Hua shrugged. “It’s as simple as that.”

Lu Yao hadn’t expected that this was the reason Jiu Hua kept going to the Little Pet Cafe, but the outcome wasn’t too bad in her view. “Will you come back to the shop in the future?”

Jiu Hua nodded. “Yes, I’ll come whenever I have time. I started writing novels because of social anxiety, but once I became a professional author, I realized true social anxiety would prevent good writing.”

That’s why she had so many books, constantly using them to make up for her lack of real-life experience.

Lu Yao’s eyes lit up—this was the opening she’d been waiting for. “Jiu Hua, I have a proposal. Would you like to work as a staff member in my shop? You already understand the unique nature of the Little Pet Cafe. We can’t recruit staff from the guests, but you’re special. You don’t feel as anxious around people in the sea, and you wouldn’t need to interact with customers constantly. Plus, you’d gather tons of material.”

Jiu Hua blinked, considering the possibility of the offer.

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