Ch 164: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World

It was noon in the Great Wu Dynasty, but the phone displayed 7 a.m.

Normally, Fu Chi would be heading to the Little Pet Cafe around this time. This time, Lu Yao had asked him to come directly to the cinema.

A black Bugatti Veyron pulled out from the villa district, passing through the familiar yet monotonous scenery. Fu Chi’s face was expressionless, his gaze weary. He held no expectations for this so-called treatment — everything around him seemed to drain him of life.

Those experiences and memories tortured him, weighing down his body and turning into his nightmares. It felt like he was sinking in mud, aimless and confused, yet he ultimately chose not to forget.

Fu Chi’s mindset was rather bleak at the moment.

The shopkeeper had given him two options, and to him, or even to her, erasing his memory would have been the easier choice. Someone with unstable emotions like his was undoubtedly better off being dismissed sooner rather than later.

But he stubbornly chose Option Two; if he had to suffer, he wanted company in his misery.

Lu Yao hung up the phone, feeling quite pleased. The cinema’s new lobby manager was on his way.

System: “…Will Fu Chi actually be content as a lobby manager? That’s absurd!”

Lu Yao: “What’s wrong with being a lobby manager? Our cinema’s so interesting; he’ll be hooked as soon as he steps inside.”

System: “…You’re delusional.”

Fu Chi wasn’t like the Ji clan; he was just a wealthy man without the same reverence for supernatural matters, so the system figured Lu Yao’s plans would likely fall through this time.

Just then, Ku Ba walked by, noticing Lu Yao on the phone. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. “Shopkeeper, what is that in your hand?”

Lu Yao held it up. “Oh, this? It’s a phone.”

Ku Ba was baffled. “A… phone?”

Lu Yao: “It’s a communication device. Come over here; I’ll take a picture of you.”

Ku Ba grew even more confused. “A picture?”

She had him sit somewhere in the lounge, chose a few angles, snapped a photo, and then showed it to him. “Here, this is your picture.”

Ku Ba took the phone with both hands, his eyes widening in astonishment at the image on the screen that looked exactly like him. “This is… me?”

Lu Yao nodded. “Yes, and since you want purple hair, I can simulate it in your photo first.”

Ku Ba didn’t grasp all the terms but looked at her eagerly. “Shopkeeper, can I keep this photo?”

Lu Yao thought for a moment and nodded. “I can’t give you the phone, but I can print the photo. I’ll have it ready for you tomorrow.”

Ku Ba didn’t understand much about this, but hearing that he could keep the photo, his eyes lit up. “Thank you, Shopkeeper.”

Standing at the cinema’s entrance, Fu Chi saw the interior decor through the glass and spotted Lu Yao in the lounge, his brow furrowing — the place seemed utterly empty.

He stepped up to the glass and knocked, calling out, “Lu Yao, I’m here.”

Lu Yao heard his voice, but when she looked, all she saw were patrons from the Great Wu Dynasty bustling in and out.

She got up, walked over, closed one glass door, and then opened it again. With a shift in her thoughts, the star gate realigned to the shopping district, revealing Fu Chi outside.

“Come in,” she said.

As Fu Chi stepped into the cinema, he was met with a barrage of sounds. He turned, his pupils slightly contracting.

Outside the transparent glass, it was no longer the desolate, quiet old street of the shopping district, but rather a vibrant, stone-paved street flanked by traditional houses, ancient in their style and charm.

On the street, men and women alike wore their hair long and dressed in coarse robes, strolling leisurely.

Unlike the meticulously crafted replicas in Hengdian, this street exuded an indescribable sense of authenticity and everyday life. Having visited the Little Pet Cafe, Fu Chi had his suspicions about the cinema’s world, but he hadn’t expected it to be set in ancient times.

Running a cinema in this era—wasn’t the shopkeeper afraid of being branded a heretic and burned at the stake?

Little did he know, his appearance was equally shocking to the citizens of the Great Wu Dynasty.

He’d planned to just “take a look,” but out of habit, he dressed professionally for his “workplace.” In a suit with a tie, tailored leather shoes, custom cufflinks, and a luxury watch, Fu Chi still felt he looked tired, with hollow eyes and dark circles, so he’d added a pair of rose-gold, tinted glasses.

His attire, short hair, and glasses made him stand out as much as Lu Yao did. Onlookers gaped—was there now a second strange man, dressed as bizarrely as the shopkeeper?

Wan Baozhu, dressed elegantly in silk, a jade crown on her head, a jade pendant at her waist, and a fan in hand, strolled into the cinema. Before she could even examine the cinema’s layout, her gaze fell on Lu Yao and the man standing beside her.

They were dressed strangely but seemed to fit together, oddly harmonious in a way that made them look more at ease than any of the townspeople.

Next to him, Hongyu, in a bodyguard’s uniform with a short sword at her side, squinted in their direction. She could only make out two figures in thin clothing standing together, which made her suspect they’d entered a house of ill repute. Alarmed, she tugged on Wan Baozhu’s sleeve. “Young miss, let’s go back!”

Wan Baozhu didn’t budge. “Interesting—really interesting. Let’s go buy tickets first.”

Unable to refuse her, Hongyu reluctantly turned to buy tickets. The noon show had sold out, so she bought seats for the second and third afternoon screenings of The World’s Greatest and Capital’s Little Chef.

With nearly an hour before their movie, Wan Baozhu decided to stay in the lounge area, watching the previews and advertisements while munching on the complimentary popcorn.

Hongyu sat beside her, squinting hard to make out the images on the screen.

Meanwhile, Lu Yao was giving Fu Chi a tour of the cinema. “Mr. Fu, how do you feel about it?”

Fu Chi glanced toward the street through the glass, his expression reserved. “Not bad.”

“Then shall we sign the contract?” Lu Yao smoothly took out a stack of confidentiality agreements.

Fu Chi looked at her. “We have to sign?”

Lu Yao replied, “Employee contracts are slightly different from customer agreements. If you’re joining the cinema staff, there are a few more documents to sign.”

Fu Chi picked up the contract. His position was listed as “lobby manager” with a six-month term, and his pay matched that of the other employees on the shopping street.

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Benefits, insurance, and a six thousand monthly salary?”

Lu Yao nodded. “It’s about experiencing life—it needs to feel realistic.”

Fu Chi chuckled. “This job is actually the least realistic part.”

Despite his remark, he signed the contract. Once the agreement was complete, Lu Yao put it away and said, “All right, Xiao Fu, let me introduce you to the other staff.”

“Xiao Fu?” Fu Chi drummed his fingers lightly on the glass table, muttering, “That’s a new one.”

With Fu Chi joining the team, Wen Jian, Zhu Zhu, and Gouzi felt a bit reserved. Ku Ba tried to act nonchalant, observing Fu Chi in silence. It was clear that this newcomer was cut from the same cloth as the shopkeeper—dressed even more peculiarly and older than Lu Yao, he looked like someone not to be trifled with.

After introductions, Lu Yao left him to it.

Although Fu Chi’s initial disinterest seemed genuine, once left alone, he began exploring the cinema and striking up conversations with the staff. His experience navigating high society gave him an intuitive grasp of the cinema’s current operations.

The cinema had only been open briefly, with two films released so far. The people of the Great Wu Dynasty were adjusting well to it, and the shopkeeper seemed safe from any risk of being burnt at the stake.

Fu Chi stood at the entrance of the cinema, gazing into the distance. A small wave of excitement swelled within him, stirring his heart uncontrollably. He could hardly imagine the reactions of the townspeople when documentaries, mysteries, sci-fi films, and other genres appeared on the big screen one after another. The thought was unimaginable, and thus, incredibly thrilling.

He recalled Ji Zhixin’s recent negotiations for film rights, where his miserly bargaining tactics had earned him a reputation as a tightwad within their circles. Rumors even circulated that the Ji family was on the brink of collapse due to his relentless penny-pinching. It seemed the shopkeeper was short on funds, forcing Master Ji to be extra frugal. Running a shoestring-budget cinema in ancient times felt increasingly amusing.

…

Lu Yao stood behind the popcorn machine, observing a table of guests in the lounge area.

“The two guests at Table E—they’re young girls, right?” she tapped into the system.

System: “…You could tell?”

Lu Yao: “…It couldn’t be more obvious.”

Though dressed in men’s clothing, their fair, delicate skin was a stark contrast to typical men of the Great Wu Dynasty. Especially the one posing as a young master—small-framed, with rosy lips and white teeth, though her poised demeanor subdued her feminine charm slightly.

Lu Yao looked closer. “The female guard keeps squinting; could she be nearsighted?”

System: “…Unknown.”

The system had grown weary of the shopkeeper’s odd observations.

Lu Yao: “Did they buy tickets?”

System: “Two screenings.”

Wan Baozhu was also observing Lu Yao. She’d overheard the earlier conversation between the shopkeeper and that man, making a mental note to verify what little she understood later.

At that moment, the midday screening concluded, and patrons began filing out of the theater. Roughly a tea break later, the announcement instructed the second round of guests to queue for ticket checks. Among them were many women, young ladies and matrons, who had received free tickets. In high spirits, they eagerly passed through Lu Yao’s ticket check, thrilled to enter the screening hall.

Following that day, the cinema continued its ticket giveaway for four more days. By the fifth day, for Little Chef’s second premiere, though no tickets were gifted, numerous female patrons still willingly bought tickets to watch, indicating a growing interest.

Feeling the need for more screening halls, Lu Yao planned to debut a third film. Originally, Ji Zhixin had been negotiating for a xianxia drama series, but given the low offer, the negotiations had stalled. Lu Yao promptly shifted gears and selected a different film.

This was an adaptation of a popular novel, initially aired as a series and then remade as a film that had been wildly successful. She preferred the film version, and coincidentally, Fu Chi’s company held the rights.

Upon hearing that the shopkeeper intended to screen it, Fu Chi streamlined the process, offering a generous discount.

Ji Zhixin, managing all rights acquisitions, found the process uncharacteristically smooth and could not resist a jest: “Well done, Xiao Fu—the lobby manager’s handling things well.”

Fu Chi replied, “Same to you, Xiao Ji.”

Ji Zhixin: “…”

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