Ch 153: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World

“This is the place,” Zhu Zhu pulled her mother through the crowd. “I spoke with the manager here yesterday.”

With difficulty, Zhu Zhu’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Zhu, squeezed to the front.

A large crowd stood in front of the cinema, peering through the glass at a video playing inside, expressions a mix of shock and awe.

“How is there a moving person on the wall?” Mr. Zhu asked.

Someone nearby corrected, “Isn’t that a box?”

Mr. Zhu insisted, “No, it looks like it’s on the wall to me.”

Mrs. Zhu was equally bewildered, especially since the moving person on the wall looked oddly familiar—especially in those strange clothes.

After a moment, Mrs. Zhu suddenly realized, “Isn’t that the girl who had duck-blood noodles at our place yesterday morning?”

At that moment, Lu Yao emerged from one side of the wall, startling the crowd even further.

People looked at Lu Yao and then at the moving figure on the wall, stepping back in astonishment.

“How can they look exactly the same?”

Lu Yao walked over and opened the door, seeing the curious townspeople. “The shop is still under renovation and will open in a few days. We’re currently hiring staff, so if anyone is interested, feel free to come inside and discuss.”

The crowd exchanged glances, unsure if they should speak to Lu Yao.

Zhu Zhu, however, quickly pulled her mother forward, calling out, “Boss, please tell my parents that the job and pay I mentioned are real.”

Hearing this, Lu Yao looked down with a bit of surprise and delight. “Zhu Zhu, you really came.”

The people around made space as Zhu Zhu and her family approached Lu Yao.

Standing in front of Lu Yao, Zhu Zhu looked a bit nervous, “But we agreed yesterday, right? You’re not looking for someone else, are you?”

Lu Yao shook her head. “Since you came, the job is yours. Come inside, and we’ll talk.”

Zhu Zhu eagerly pulled her mother to follow, but Mrs. Zhu hesitated at the entrance, wary of the unusual store and the crowd’s reluctance to enter.

“Boss,” she asked cautiously, “my daughter mentioned you’d pay two silver taels a month—is that really true?”

At this, everyone’s eyes widened, and even those who were about to leave stopped in their tracks.

Lu Yao swept her gaze across the crowd and nodded. “Yes, the monthly wage is set at two taels.”

The system had gathered some data on the Great Wu Dynasty’s currency system: it circulated gold ingots, silver ingots, silver notes, and copper coins. Only the extremely wealthy used gold; one tael of gold was worth around ten taels of silver. Each tael of silver was equal to one thousand copper coins or one “string” of coins, roughly equivalent to 150 yuan in modern currency.

In Liangjing, most commoners earned between half a string to a full string of coins per month, and only the most trusted servants of affluent families could earn two taels of silver.

Mrs. Zhu’s hands trembled slightly at the confirmation. “May I ask what kind of work this involves?”

Such high pay made her worry it could be for something improper.

Lu Yao recognized Mrs. Zhu from the noodle stall and noticed many eavesdroppers around. Since she was openly hiring, there was no need to hide anything.

“I’m opening a cinema here, which you could think of as a theater,” Lu Yao explained. “I’m hiring three staff members for now: one ticket seller, who will handle ticket sales and payments; one ticket checker, who will guide paying customers to the theater; and one cleaner. The tasks are similar to those of a shop assistant, mainly serving customers. Zhu Zhu and I discussed the ticket seller role. She’s bright and quick-witted, which makes her well-suited to the job.”

“A ticket seller and a ticket checker are similar to a shop assistant but are still service jobs,” Lu Yao explained. Since she wasn’t familiar with Great Wu customs, she could only explain based on what she remembered from watching historical dramas as a child.

“But there’s no stage here, so how will people watch a show?” someone couldn’t help but ask.

Lu Yao gestured inside. “See that screen? That’s the stage.”

On the wide screen, a woman who looked just like Lu Yao was explaining the job responsibilities and wages.

The crowd was mesmerized, uncertain what to make of it.

“Seven days from now, the theater will host three free screenings with a total of ninety tickets available. If anyone’s interested, you can come to the front desk for a ticket,” Lu Yao took the chance to advertise the upcoming event. Regardless of whether they fully understood, she finished her pitch and invited Zhu Zhu and her parents into the theater.

It was too complicated to explain all at once, but after a few movie screenings, they’d get it.

Zhu Zhu’s mother still looked unsure, but Zhu Zhu pulled her inside. Mr. Zhu hesitated at the door before following.

Meanwhile, a man wearing a black veil hat in the crowd turned and left, heading toward a tailor shop at the end of the street. Soon after, a young man in a simple blue outfit left the shop and made his way to “Lu Yao’s Interdimensiomal Cinema.”

…

Inside the cinema, Lu Yao chatted briefly with Zhu Zhu’s parents before they left.

Though they were still somewhat concerned, they allowed Zhu Zhu to stay after Lu Yao showed them her workstation, which was right by the entrance in plain sight. They decided to let Zhu Zhu try working there for a couple of days, with plans to bring her home if anything seemed off.

Lu Yao stood behind the counter, teaching Zhu Zhu the ticketing process and how to use the ticketing system. Since the cinema required a computer for ticketing, all the text had been adapted to Great Wu’s official script. However, it also used Arabic numerals and an unfamiliar register system, which posed a challenge for Zhu Zhu, who had never encountered anything like it.

Fortunately, the system was relatively user-friendly, operated mostly with a mouse, so she didn’t need to learn typing right away, which would have been even harder.

Lu Yao taught at a slow pace, and Zhu Zhu was highly motivated, frequently glancing at Lu Yao to see if she was dissatisfied. Noticing that Lu Yao was patient and calm, Zhu Zhu focused even harder on learning.

Just then, a young man entered and approached the counter. “Excuse me, I heard there’s a job opening here?”

He had jet-black hair and refined features; though he wore a simple blue outfit, he stood tall with an elegant, free-spirited air.

Lu Yao looked up and was pleasantly surprised. “Yes, are you here to apply?”

The young man introduced himself as Wen Jian, a scholar who had failed the imperial exams and lived in Qingshui Alley. He had come in hopes of finding work to support his continued studies.

Lu Yao spoke with him briefly and hired him on the spot. Wen Jian was literate, articulate, skilled at accounting, had good handwriting, and a pleasant appearance—qualities that made him suitable for either the ticketing or checking positions.

With the cinema opening soon, Lu Yao didn’t want to delay any further.

As she taught Zhu Zhu, she also called Wen Jian over to learn alongside her.

In this era, knowing how to use a computer was a rare skill, so training only one person wouldn’t be enough.

Zhu Zhu was a bit nervous as Wen Jian started his training. She worried she was too slow to learn, feeling discouraged when Wen Jian seemed to pick things up faster.

Wen Jian learned slowly too, but he progressed faster than her. He memorized one hundred Arabic numerals in a day, while she was still struggling with numbers under ten.

Fortunately, Lu Yao remained patient and encouraging, allowing her to learn at her own pace.

After three days of practice, Zhu Zhu gradually mastered basic arithmetic and the ticketing system.

By then, news from Ji Zhixin had arrived as well.

Two of the three films Lu Yao was interested in had been secured: a martial arts comedy and a sixteen-episode, low-budget historical rom-com. Both were priced around a million yuan.

Martial arts films had fallen out of favor recently, but Lu Yao had chosen an older, once-popular title. Though the storyline might seem clichéd today, for Great Wu’s residents who had never seen a film, it would likely be bold and entertaining.

The other was a recent web series about a city-girl chef and a mischievous nobleman, offering a lighthearted romantic comedy.

Although it was a low-budget production, the props and sets were crafted with care, and the storyline was lighthearted and engaging.

The classic “Cinderella × Prince” pairing had been tested countless times in the market; no matter how much time passed, there was always an audience for this trope.

Not only did Ji Zhixin secure the film rights, but he also arranged for a professional post-production team. They handled edits (primarily removing any bloody or explicit scenes) and enhanced the visuals, while Lu Yao added the subtitles herself. Finally, the system provided synthesized voiceovers, adjusting all dialogue into Liangjing’s official dialect.

The system had become savvy, charging popularity points based on service levels for each voiceover modification, with synthetic voices being the cheapest and synthesized original voices the most expensive.

Lu Yao, busy preparing for the premiere, didn’t haggle too much but made a mental note: once the cinema was running smoothly, she planned to train some voice actors specifically for Great Wu.

…

The first film scheduled for screening was titled The World’s Greatest, with a final edited runtime of one hour and fifty-eight minutes. Lu Yao arranged to offer three free screenings—one in the morning and two in the afternoon, fitting perfectly within the movie’s length.

Before the free tickets were distributed, the cinema’s large screen in the waiting area began showing a one-minute movie trailer. Packed with impressive scenes, handsome young actors, and classic lines against a captivating set, it was far more attention-grabbing than the recruitment ad she and Ji Zhixin had filmed.

With the trailer release, the locals, who had been timidly peeking from outside, soon gathered, pressing their faces to the glass. Eventually, bolder young men wandered in and took seats in the waiting area to watch.

The sixty-second clip was mesmerizing, and they stayed for ages without tiring.

On the day of the free ticket distribution, all ninety tickets were claimed within ten minutes.

As the crowd with tickets gathered at the entrance, the cinema’s first screening was set to begin. The thirty guests with tickets for the initial screening lined up, tickets in hand, as Wen Jian checked them at the entrance, and Lu Yao guided them to their seats.

The guests filed in, taking their assigned seats. The lights dimmed, and the screen lit up.

The movie began.

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