Ch 159: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World

In the evening, the cinema closed for maintenance.

On the commercial street, it was still noon. As usual, Lu Yao returned and began her rounds, inspecting each store to ensure everything was running smoothly. After confirming all four smaller stores were in order, she made her way to the Little Pet Café to find Ji Zhixin.

Ji Zhixin sat at a table in a quiet corner of the café, with a laptop open in front of him. Although the commercial street area technically had network coverage, only the non-dimensional parts of the stores could access it. Likely due to connections with Lu Yao’s world, the café was linked to a unique network allowing internet access. The laptop in the snack bar could also be used by the café staff, though all information was monitored by the system, ensuring no sensitive information about the commercial street could leak.

Ji Zhixin was contacting old acquaintances at the moment, negotiating the price for the film Lu Yao wanted.

She greeted him and took a seat across from him. “How’s the negotiation going?”

A small, fluffy seal promptly brought her a chilled plum drink and a platter of sashimi. She was rather hungry, so she patted the little seal on its round, fuzzy head before picking up her chopsticks.

Ji Zhixin looked up, “The price they’re asking is a bit above our budget; still negotiating.”

Lu Yao asked, “How much over budget?”

Zhixin replied, “They’re asking for five million. I think I can bring it down to around two million.”

Lu Yao picked up a spoon, ready to dig into some sea urchin. “Uh, isn’t that more than just a bit over?”

In regular shopping, even half-off discounts weren’t this steep.

Ji Zhixin clarified, “It’s a low-budget xianxia drama from a few years ago. It barely made a ripple when it was released, so even asking for this price now is generous.”

Lu Yao listened in amazement. Brother Zhixin was impressively sharp, especially in his area of expertise. If not for his injury, he wouldn’t have been left stagnant for so long.

Admitting that professionals excel in their fields, Lu Yao nodded. “If you can negotiate, that would be great. If it’s tough, the price can be a bit more flexible.”

Ji Zhixin shook his head, “No, we already don’t have much of a budget. Once we get it, we’ll need to re-edit and polish it up, which is another expense. The price has to be as low as possible. Don’t worry, I’ll get it done.”

Lu Yao never showed her full hand, but Ji Zhixin and Ji Feiming had picked up on some hints. She had vast resources and contacts across different worlds, yet these couldn’t be transferred to the real world. Not only that, she continued funding her ventures here by using money from this world, which meant her finances were likely tight.

Ji Zhixin suspected that, due to the lack of funds, Lu Yao had carefully introduced the existence of the commercial street to a select few in this world. If not for this, he might never have had the chance to come to the Little Pet Cafe.

Touching his leg, Ji Zhixin thought privately—a bit guiltily—that it was perhaps a good thing the boss still had this weakness; otherwise, he might still be in that dark bedroom back in Tianji, self-exiled like a walking corpse.

Lu Yao trusted Ji Zhixin’s ability, so she didn’t press further. “Thank you for the hard work.”

Ji Zhixin shook his head, “I never thought I’d get back to work like this. Somehow, it feels even more interesting than five years ago.”

He had always loved work and easily found satisfaction in it. Now, climbing back from his lowest point, his approach to problems and ideas for handling situations felt sharper and more meaningful.

After finishing her conversation with Ji Zhixin, Lu Yao took a walk through each area of the Little Pet Café.

Everything in the store was running smoothly, and the fuzzy little creatures were doing well. Every day, a certain number of the reclusive fish left Eden Sea. After visiting the underwater area, Lu Yao headed up to the fishing deck.

Fu Chi was there, as he was nearly every day.

Most of the time, he sat alone on the pier, gazing into the distance or looking down at the sea.

Lu Yao stood by the window for a moment, watching him, before walking over and kneeling down beside him. “Mr. Fu, how are you feeling lately?”

Fu Chi glanced at her, his eyes dull and devoid of light, and shook his head slightly. His voice was hoarse. “Still the same.”

This world was quiet and beautiful.

Here, he could feel a semblance of peace. But because of that peace, painful memories surged even more vividly, invading his consciousness bit by bit. He kept coming here not for healing but to repeatedly immerse himself in those memories, tormenting himself again and again.

Lu Yao had heard a bit about Fu Chi’s situation from Bai Jing.

A few months ago, he had been kidnapped abroad and was only rescued a week later. No one knew what he had gone through during that week, but since his return, he had been in a daze, completely lacking the will to live.

“The treatment here doesn’t seem to be working for you. The Little Pet Café isn’t suited for your situation,” Lu Yao said, hugging one leg close as her other leg dangled over the water, gently stirring the sea. Not far away, several sperm whales swam by.

Fu Chi noticed them too.

The whales seemed to like this sea, passing through in groups from time to time. He had also seen pods of orcas, dolphins, and even a giant blue whale.

“A million for less than two weeks,” he said flatly, his tone cold and rigid.

Lu Yao’s expression remained calm. “I mentioned before you arrived that there was no guarantee of recovery. As it stands, it seems the Little Pet Café isn’t effective for you. We have two alternative approaches here—would you like to try one?”

Fu Chi paused. “What options?”

Lu Yao continued, “Option one, we can directly erase your memories. Option two, I recently opened a new shop next door—a cinema. Zhixin mentioned you used to be a director, so you might know more about movies than I do. I was thinking, perhaps you’d like to work there to take your mind off things.”

Fu Chi looked even more surprised than before, his typically lifeless eyes widening in disbelief as he looked at her. “You’re asking me to work at your shop?”

Spending a million for psychological treatment and getting a side job to boot?

Fu Chi nearly laughed.

He did chuckle slightly. “You’re quite bold to suggest that.”

Lu Yao kept a straight face. “These two options are tailored to your situation. If you don’t like Option Two, then go with Option One. Rest assured, I’m thorough—I’ll make sure all those unpleasant memories are wiped clean.”

Fu Chi had no doubt Lu Yao could erase his memories.

He just had no curiosity left, nor any desire to make changes.

Lu Yao observed him closely, but his expression remained numb, revealing nothing. “Take your time deciding whether to change the treatment approach. Once you’ve made up your mind, just contact me.”

Leaving the Little Pet Café, Lu Yao headed back to the nail salon for some rest.

The time in Great Wu Dynasty was different from her other stores, and with the cinema in its early stages, it required constant attention, making her schedule especially erratic lately.

The system suddenly popped up: [Why is the boss so invested in Fu Chi’s situation, even inviting him to work at the cinema?]

Lu Yao replied, “He’s been in treatment at the Little Pet Café for nearly two weeks with no improvement. It’s only natural to try a different approach.”

[Our original agreement was for treatment at the café. You rarely offer people from this world access to the other realms. Don’t tell me you’re interested in him?]

Lu Yao couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “You’ve been watching too many dramas lately. Please. He paid a million—wouldn’t you feel uneasy holding onto that if I couldn’t help him?”

Fu Chi’s situation wasn’t a typical emotional issue. With a privileged background and a smooth life up until now, he’d been utterly broken by a single traumatic event, falling into a pit too deep to climb out of.

For people like him, stillness only leads to circling painful thoughts. Better to keep him active, leaving him less time to dwell on things. That might actually prove more effective.

System: [What if he chooses to erase his memory and doesn’t want to work?]

Lu Yao: “Then we’ll proceed with the memory erasure. I completely respect the client’s wishes.”

…

Late at night, Lu Yao was abruptly awakened by the system’s notification sound.

System: [Store upgrade successful! The current rating is now one-star. Please keep up the good work!]

Lu Yao glanced at the time, half an hour before her alarm. Now that she was up, going back to sleep seemed pointless, so she got ready and headed out.

At the cinema, she inspected the upgraded theater. An extra row of seats made the space feel much roomier, and the newly added second screening room across from the first one mirrored its layout and size. Lu Yao finally felt like her cinema was starting to take shape.

Back at the front desk, she added the trailer for Little Chef to the advertisement playlist.

As dawn broke, Zhu Zhu, Wen Jian, and Gouzi arrived for their shifts and were astonished to find a new screening room had appeared overnight in the hallway.

Both Wen Jian and Gouzi were hesitant to ask questions, but Zhu Zhu, with her more outgoing personality, couldn’t help but inquire about it during breakfast.

Lu Yao’s expression was calm. “The store went through some remodeling and expansion last night.”

Zhu Zhu’s eyes widened. “Remodeled and expanded in just one night?”

Lu Yao nodded. “Six hours is all it took.”

Her relaxed tone made it sound like the most ordinary thing. Given the peculiar things they’d encountered recently—from computers and movies to popcorn machines—Zhu Zhu and her colleagues were slowly but surely becoming more accustomed to the unusual.

Satisfied with her response, they dropped the topic and started their workday. Today, Zhu Zhu and Wen Jian swapped roles, with Wen Jian handling ticket sales while Zhu Zhu managed admissions. Gouzi, meanwhile, stayed by Lu Yao’s side to learn more about operating the popcorn and drink machines and to help guide customers and clean one of the screening rooms.

The new screening room didn’t attract much attention from customers, many of whom were first-timers and assumed it had always been there. Meanwhile, the ad screens in the lounge began showcasing the trailer for The Capital’s Little Chef, which quickly stirred excitement.

Lu Yao planned to release The Capital’s Little Chef three days after The World’s Greatest ended its run.

As screenings continued, word of the cinema spread beyond Song’an Street to the nearby market district, drawing more curiosity.

After two days on the road, Ku Ba finally arrived in Liangjing and stopped at a street stall to eat. At the tables nearby, all he heard were conversations about the cinema and some character named Ye Qingzhou—terms he didn’t quite understand.

After eating, he asked someone for directions. The passerby’s face lit up. “Oh, you’re looking for the cinema? Just head down this street and take a left. You can’t miss it; it’s the most eye-catching place around.”

Ku Ba made his way to Song’an Street, where, among a row of shops, one storefront stood out as particularly unusual. Even to his experienced eyes, it looked strange. He quickly walked over and observed from outside.

Suddenly, an ad for popcorn and soda began playing on the shop’s screen. Dressed in ancient attire, Xingzu, Xiao Qie, and Bai Ming appeared on screen, and Ku Ba’s gaze locked onto Xiao Qie with a complex expression.

Despite his intense curiosity, Ku Ba, being a seasoned assassin, refrained from barging in. Just then, Lu Yao returned from the street and noticed a man in purple leaning against the glass, staring at the screen with fascination.

This man wore his robe loosely draped, exposing part of his chest, giving him a sharp aura different from the usual locals of the Great Wu Dynasty. Sensing her gaze, Ku Ba looked over, then suddenly covered his eyes with both hands, exclaiming, “How brazen!”

Lu Yao: “…”

She couldn’t help but think: You’re the one with your robe hanging off your shoulders, yet you’re calling me improper?

Ku Ba, not hearing a response, peeked through his fingers, quickly shutting them again as he muttered and turned around. Removing his outer robe, he handed it to her without looking, “Put this on!”

Lu Yao raised an eyebrow at his amusing demeanor. “Thank you, but if you’re interested in the film, why not come inside and buy a ticket?”

Ku Ba kept his back turned, shaking the purple robe in his hand. “First, cover yourself.”

At that moment, Zhu Zhu called from inside, “Boss, the machine’s acting up and isn’t printing tickets.”

Ignoring Ku Ba, Lu Yao turned and went back inside. Ku Ba’s ears perked up, and he snuck a glance over his shoulder. So, this was the woman his employer wanted him to investigate?

After fixing the machine, Lu Yao looked up to find Ku Ba standing right in front of her, startling her slightly.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Ku Ba nodded, gesturing towards the seating area, “Come over here with me.”

As Lu Yao stepped out from behind the ticket counter, she asked again, “What is it you need?”

Standing in front of the ad screen, Ku Ba stayed silent as the trailers for The World’s Greatest and The Capital’s Little Chef played. When an ad finally appeared, he pointed to Xiao Qie’s hair on the screen. “Is his hair natural?”

So that’s what he was interested in. Xiao Qie’s purple hair had drawn many questions, just like Xingzi’s pink hair.

Lu Yao had already inquired with the snack shop. Both Xiao Qie and Xingzi’s hair colors had been ordinary before they arrived in Dreamland, where they somehow transformed—though the cause remained unknown.

She shook her head. “It’s special styling, not natural.”

Ku Ba’s eyes widened, and after glancing at Lu Yao, he quickly looked down. “I want hair like that. How do I get it?”

This was the first time someone actually wanted the same look.

Studying his long black hair, Lu Yao couldn’t help but imagine how attention-grabbing a head of purple hair would be on him in the streets. “Well, it’s a bit complicated and not something I can do right away.”

Ku Ba looked back up. “That’s fine. Take your time; I can be patient. Name your price?”

“It’s not about the money,” Lu Yao replied, a little surprised.

“Then what’s the problem if money isn’t an issue?” he insisted.

Lu Yao: “…”

Ku Ba began to stubbornly linger in the cinema, pestering Lu Yao to give him purple hair. When persistence failed, he started sharing stories.

He explained that he had a lifelong rival, a man with natural silver hair who was blind yet had unmatched talent in martial arts. From childhood until now, Ku Ba had never beaten him.

Longing to surpass this person, Ku Ba trained tirelessly but, after more than ten years, still couldn’t gain the upper hand. Seeing Xiao Qie’s purple hair, he felt as if he’d had a revelation. That man’s extraordinary strength must be connected to his unique hair color. If he, too, had a “true-born” hair color, maybe then he could finally win.

Lu Yao, listening to his story, thought to herself: He’s ready to abandon all dignity just to dye his hair.

Slowly, she raised her head. “Alright, I can dye your hair. But in exchange, you’ll work here at my cinema for three months.”

Ku Ba’s eyes sparkled with excitement, seizing the chance. “Deal! When can I… get my hair dyed?”

Lu Yao replied, “In ten days.”

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