Ch 166: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World

Northern Market, Four Joy Pavilion

It wasn’t even noon, yet the hall was packed with diners, their attention all fixed on the right-side stage, with little interest in their meals.

Liu Gennong stood on stage, vividly recounting the story of The World’s Greatest. Over the past two weeks, he had painstakingly adapted the movie’s plot into a storytelling script. He frequently visited the cinema, re-watching the film and refining his language choices. The process proved more challenging than expected, but his efforts were not in vain.

The adapted version of The World’s Greatest spanned six episodes, and Liu Gennong performed for just an hour each day, earning more than he previously did with two or three hours of storytelling. Many people were interested in The World’s Greatest, but a cinema ticket cost a hefty thirty coins, which wasn’t affordable for everyone. Learning that Four Joy Pavilion’s storyteller was recounting The World’s Greatest, people flocked to listen, finding that paying three or five coins for tea was a more economical choice.

Today, Liu Gennong was at the climax, narrating the battle between Ye Qingzhou and the foe who annihilated his clan, as both descended into madness. The audience listened, enraptured.

With a flourish, he snapped his fan shut and bowed slightly. “To find out what happens next, please return tomorrow.”

The crowd let out disappointed groans but had no choice but to wait until the next day.

Thriving on his newfound success, Liu Gennong packed up, planning to visit the cinema in the afternoon for more inspiration.

Just then, someone called out, “When will you start telling Little Chef? That trailer looked even more interesting than The World’s Greatest.”

Another person asked, “Brother, where did you see the trailer?”

“Why, at the cinema! They have a large screen visible through the glass wall.”

A bearded man at a neighboring table chimed in, “You’re brave, going to that cinema. Aren’t you worried for your life?”

The other man frowned, puzzled. “What do you mean by that? The cinema’s been packed every day. It’s lively—what’s there to worry about?”

The bearded man swept his gaze around the room with a look of pity mixed with mystery. “It’s clear you haven’t been inside; otherwise, you’d know. Lately, quite a few people have stopped going.”

Liu Gennong’s expression changed slightly. He had been meaning to adapt Little Chef and visited the cinema every other day. He hadn’t heard anything unusual, but perhaps he missed something on his off days?

He took a step closer, eager to hear what the bearded man had to say. The other diners, all curious about the cinema, put down their utensils and turned to listen.

The bearded man slapped the table, eyes wide and voice booming. “I’ll tell you, I was tempted too after hearing so much about it. So, one day, my wife and I went to the cinema. She had one of those special tickets only for women, but I had to buy my own ticket for twenty coins. We finally got in, but who would have thought—there were demons inside!”

He gestured with his hands, showing the size of the monster’s claw. “A claw as big as a table latched onto the edge of the stage. That hideous creature drooled as it growled at the audience, and the drool left pits the size of bowls wherever it landed!” He glanced around, noting the crowd’s reactions, relishing the shock on their faces. “I tell you, I grabbed my wife and ran for our lives. We nearly got eaten!”

Someone in the audience spoke up, “Oh, that must be the advertisement. I’ve seen it outside, too. The first time was scary, but after a few more viewings, you get used to it. I’m more curious about that cinema popcorn—the creature liked it so much! I wonder if it’s any different from what’s sold outside.”

Since popcorn had taken Liangjing by storm, vendors had started selling their versions on the streets. Though the taste didn’t quite match the cinema’s, those reluctant to enter the cinema could still get a taste outside.

Popcorn had become a trendy snack in Liangjing, and there were attempts to replicate the cinema’s cola, but no one had successfully matched its taste or texture. The cinema’s cola, served with ice, had become the perfect summer refreshment, cool and refreshing in the hot weather.

In the Great Wu Dynasty, ordinary households didn’t have ice cellars, so cola with and without ice tasted noticeably different, discouraging many vendors who had hoped to continue experimenting with it.

The bearded man snorted, furrowing his brow in disdain. “It’s all just hype. That popcorn can’t be all that great—it’s nothing compared to what’s sold on the streets, and you get even less.”

Listening to this, Liu Gennong sensed something was amiss. He’d tasted the cinema’s popcorn and compared it to the street vendors’ versions—the cinema’s was indisputably better.

Stepping down from the platform, he moved closer to the bearded man and spoke up, “Sir, you may be mistaken. The cinema’s popcorn is actually much tastier than what’s on the streets. And saying the cinema has something demonic inside is a bit of an exaggeration.”

The bearded man scoffed, “You make a living off that cinema, of course you’d defend it. Don’t believe me? Go hang around there yourself. Wise advice is wasted on fools.” With that, he downed his tea, pushed through the crowd, and stormed off.

For several days in a row, not just at Four Joy Pavilion but at nearby teahouses and inns, people would bring up the cinema, only to have someone jump in, warning of the demons inside.

Initially, most people shrugged it off, but as the rumor spread wider, it took on a life of its own. Eventually, many had heard that the cinema harbored demonic creatures and even that someone had been killed.

…

Standing at the entrance of the cinema, Lu Yao watched passersby, a slight frown on her face. “It seems like we’ve had fewer customers recently.”

Gouzi squatted on the steps, a lollipop hanging from his mouth. “Everyone in the city is talking about the supposed demons in the cinema. They’re saying it even killed someone.”

Attendance in both screening rooms had significantly dropped, making the situation quite serious.

Folding his arms, Fu Chi leaned against the doorframe. “I did mention that ad was too advanced for its time.”

Lu Yao glanced at Gouzi. “Besides that, what other rumors are going around?”

With the sharp drop in customers, there were hardly any walk-ins, and the staff found themselves with little to do.

Gouzi, passing by from the restroom, chimed in, “San’er told me yesterday that folks in the city’s teahouses and inns are saying the boss specifically gave tickets to women to lure them in as food for the demons.”

After a brief moment of thought, Lu Yao turned back toward the hall. “Gouzi, come with me for a trip.”

Not sure why he’d been chosen, Gouzi agreed readily.

Behind the advertisement screen in the lobby was the staff lounge, which also served as a storage room. Lu Yao entered the lounge and retrieved a traditional women’s outfit from her personal storage. This dress wasn’t a system-generated item but a beautifully embroidered gown she had custom-made at a tailor shop.

The base was a soft pale green, made of fine silk and satin, with silver-threaded lotuses and lily pads embroidered on the hem, cuffs, and collar, giving it an elegant look.

Being slender and tall, Lu Yao slipped into the dress, pinned up her hair with a silver hairpin topped by a large pearl, and appeared fresh and graceful, passing easily for a young girl of about fifteen or sixteen.

The staff watched their boss emerge from the lounge with mixed expressions.

Fu Chi raised an eyebrow, captivated by the intricate embroidery on her dress; the hand-stitching was far more exquisite than any machine-made embroidery he’d seen.

Ku Ba crossed his arms, giving her an appraising look. “So, you’ve finally decided to dress properly. I have to say, you’re a refined beauty.”

Lu Yao spread her arms slightly and gave a small twirl, the silver embroidery on her skirt shimmering over the green fabric.

“Not bad,” she said, satisfied. She asked Fu Chi to keep an eye on the store and called Ku Ba to go out with her.

Fu Chi watched Lu Yao and Ku Ba exit the cinema and step onto the cobblestone street, his gaze tinged with envy.

Ku Ba lazily followed by her side. “Where are we heading, Boss?”

“To the teahouses and inns where the rumors started.”

Lu Yao wasn’t used to carrying things in her sleeves, so she had a small embroidered shoulder bag, which held some loose silver and her phone. In her hand, she carried a small loudspeaker.

Ku Ba was curious. “What’s that thing you’re holding?”

Lu Yao handed it over. “It’s a loudspeaker, a small device to amplify sound.”

Ku Ba examined it for a while but couldn’t figure out its purpose and handed it back. The boss always had interesting gadgets, but asking about them rarely made sense, so he’d learned to watch silently and wait until she used them.

He rented a carriage and took Lu Yao directly to Four Joy Pavilion, the place where the rumors had initially started.

East Market and North Market were close but separated by several streets, so taking a carriage was faster than walking.

Just before noon, the main hall of Four Joy Pavilion was nearly full of diners. Standing by the entrance, Lu Yao and Ku Ba immediately spotted an unusual sight in the center of the hall—a burly man with one foot propped on a stool, loudly sharing “stories” about the cinema, drawing all eyes toward him.

Lu Yao took out her phone, opened the camera, and approached quietly.

Ku Ba watched as she framed the burly man and the surrounding diners in the phone’s small screen, not quite understanding her intention.

Just as the man finished his story, Lu Yao stepped forward, her gaze icy as she looked him straight in the eye.

The man blinked, somewhat puzzled. “What’s a pretty little thing like you staring at me for? Are you lovesick or something?”

The rough man laughed boisterously, and the surrounding diners joined in.

Not wasting any time, Lu Yao took out the loudspeaker, turned it on, and spoke into it. Her amplified voice cut through the laughter, reaching even the private rooms upstairs. “You come here every day spreading rumors about the cinema as if you’re a regular. How is it that you don’t recognize me?”

The sudden volume silenced everyone, and even the rough man’s expression shifted slightly before he quickly regained his composure, dismissing her as just a girl. “Who knows where you popped out from, girl? Get lost and stop interrupting the grown-ups talking.”

“I’m Lu Yao, the very cinema owner you’re spreading rumors about.” Lu Yao enunciated slowly. “I overheard you outside just now, claiming you’ve been to my cinema, witnessed demons that eat women, and then escaped. So, sir, may I ask when exactly did you visit? How many films did you watch? And at what point did you supposedly discover these so-called demons?”

The man was momentarily stunned, not expecting her to confront him directly.

He had, in fact, visited the cinema and had seen her before, though he hadn’t recognized her right away in this different attire.

“What’s it to you when I went? That wretched cinema of yours has demons that feed on women! You give out free tickets just to lure gullible fools inside. They may be dumb, but I’m not. Don’t try to scare me off—I’m not afraid,” he said gruffly.

Lu Yao, growing tired of the back-and-forth, took out her phone and played back the video she had just recorded, turning the volume up to its maximum.

The very scene from earlier filled the small screen, and the rough man’s booming voice played back word for word. It was like a spark in oil, and the crowd gasped, startled and unsure what to do.

Lu Yao paused the video, then held up the loudspeaker and announced, “No need to panic, everyone. Please, sit down.”

Intimidated by her bold moves, the diners quietly resumed their seats.

On the second floor, several private room doors creaked open, and curious onlookers peered over the railings, exchanging glances as they settled in to watch the unfolding scene.

With a calm expression, Lu Yao continued, “I’m here today solely to clear up the recent rumors about the cinema.”

She turned to the rough man. “You just claimed that when you visited the cinema, your wife had an event ticket, so you had to buy your own. And then you say that you both encountered a demon inside and were chased down the hall?”

The burly man gulped and forced himself to respond, “So what if I did?”

No amount of preparation could have readied him for the fearsome device in her hand that could capture evidence on the spot. Even if he denied it, he was trapped.

“So, you only attended one screening at the cinema?”

“Almost lost my life! Who’d dare go back a second time?”

Satisfied with his response, Lu Yao nodded. “There’s a glaring contradiction in what you said. Regular patrons know, or anyone around Song’an Street can confirm, that the ticket promotion for women ended on the 21st of July, the day before The Little Chef second premiere. The creature ad aired on the 22nd of July, the same day as that second screening. If you went with your wife using the promotion tickets, you couldn’t have seen the creature ad, as it hadn’t aired yet. And if you went on the 22nd, your wife’s ticket would have expired, making it impossible for her to enter with it.”

Standing among the crowd, Liu Gennong’s eyes widened with realization. He had suspected the rumors were dubious, but now the timeline clearly didn’t add up.

Lu Yao then played the video again, projecting the man’s earlier fabrications. “The notion that the cinema keeps a man-eating monster is preposterous. For five days, the cinema hosted a ticket promotion specifically for women, with at least thirty female visitors each day. Since then, women have continued to purchase tickets on their own, yet there’s been no report of missing women. So, where are these supposed victims? You and your companions repeatedly mentioned your grievances about the women’s promotion and concocted stories of a creature targeting women. Let me guess—you likely tried to enter the cinema using a woman’s ticket yourself, only to be denied. Your resentment built up until you saw the creature ad, seizing it as an excuse to spin these tales.”

The burly man took a step back, his face pale. She’d hit the mark precisely.

The rumors had indeed begun among a group of dissatisfied patrons, who initially only grumbled among themselves. Then, one night, after drinking, someone took it upon himself to spread tales of monsters at the cinema. By the next day, things had spiraled, with several stories meshing together. Sensing an opportunity to make trouble, they began spreading even more elaborate lies, claiming that the cinema housed a creature that preyed on women.

Seeing how quickly the rumors spread, the man had felt triumphant, hoping to drive the cinema out of business. But now, with his lie exposed and no room for further excuses, he turned to flee.

Ku Ba had anticipated this, blocking his path and pinning him down. “Think you can spread rumors and run? Not that easy.”

The man struggled and yelled but couldn’t shake off Ku Ba, despite being noticeably larger. Growing annoyed, Ku Ba grabbed a cup from a nearby table and shoved it upside down into the man’s mouth.

The spectators looked on, wide-eyed. “…”

Seeing the crowd’s nervous faces, Lu Yao sighed internally. Even though she’d clarified the rumors, it seemed people were now even more intimidated by the cinema…

Thinking quickly, she raised her loudspeaker again. “The monster in the popcorn ad was simply a prop. Anyone who has doubts is welcome to visit the cinema tomorrow to see the popcorn creature for themselves.”

Someone murmured, “No thanks. With a boss and staff so rough, who’d dare go?”

Lu Yao scanned the room, only to find that no one dared meet her gaze.

This situation wouldn’t be resolved in a short time.

So be it; no need to push.

Lu Yao turned to call Ku Ba, ready to hand the slanderer over to the authorities and then return to the cinema.

“Hold on.” A young man leaped down from the second-floor railing, landing right in front of Lu Yao. “What was that thing you were holding? How did it record images and sound?”

Dressed in a robe of purple and gold with a golden crown atop his head, he exuded nobility with every inch of his posture, as though the words “prestige and power” were written all over him.

Lu Yao took out her phone from her pocket. “You mean this?”

The young man’s curiosity was evident, though he tried to maintain a composed expression, merely nodding slightly.

Lu Yao activated the screen, opening the camera and recording a short video clip. “This is the camera function on a phone. Explaining its workings is a bit complex, but simply put, by using this small lens to capture an image, it can preserve the likeness and sound of people or objects.”

Behind them, Liu Gennong watched Lu Yao record and play back the video, and an idea suddenly struck him. “Could this be the tool used to make movies?”

Regular patrons of the cinema gasped—it actually made sense!

Lu Yao glanced at him and smiled. “The basic principle is similar, though the equipment used for filming movies is far more specialized.”

Liu Gennong was deeply moved. “So the people in those films are real, flesh-and-blood people, just like us?”

Lu Yao hesitated briefly, then nodded. “Yes.”

Someone else chimed in, “So that popcorn-loving monster was a person too?”

Lu Yao nodded firmly. “Exactly. There are no real monsters in this world. If something appears strange or supernatural, it’s usually someone playing tricks. Tomorrow, the cinema will reveal the true identity of the popcorn monster. You’re all welcome to come and see.”

Silence fell.

The expressions of the patrons seemed to say, “You’re lying—there’s something supernatural right in front of us.”

Xie Xu had just returned to Liangjing and hadn’t heard of movies, so he looked perplexed.

Lu Yao snapped a photo of him with her phone and handed it over. “Besides video recording, it can also take still photos.”

Xie Xu’s elegant phoenix eyes widened slightly. “Is that…me?”

“Yes. Photos can also be printed. If you’re interested, come to Lu Yao’s Interdimensional Cinema on Song’an Street tomorrow, and I’ll give you one as a gift.”

Xie Xu gripped Lu Yao’s hand, staring intensely at his likeness on the screen, feelings too complicated to express.

Ku Ba, feeling smug, pulled a stack of photos from his coat and handed them to Xie Xu. “See? These are photos; the boss gave them to me a few days ago.”

Xie Xu glanced up and was surprised once more.

The figure on the paper looked exactly like the man standing in front of him.

So this was a photo?

Not only Xie Xu but also the nearby patrons who saw it felt an even deeper awe of the cinema owner. Yet their curiosity urged them to know more about the cinema’s secrets.

Even after Lu Yao and Ku Ba left with the slanderer, the main hall of Four Happiness Hall remained silent as everyone processed what they had witnessed that day.

Back upstairs, Xie Xu still looked bewildered.

The young nobles who had come to dine with him wore similarly stunned expressions.

These officials’ sons, who mostly lived in the West City mansions, rarely ventured into the marketplace and had never heard of the now-famous East City cinema. Today had truly been an eye-opener.

Wan Baozhu had enjoyed the spectacle for quite a while. As she left, she passed by Room One on the top floor.

The door was half-open, and inside, Xie Xu and his group sat in a huddle, still looking dazed. Amused, she knocked on the door and stepped inside to exchange a few words.

Back at the estate, Wan Baozhu summoned Hongyu. “I wish to entrust you with one last task.”

Hongyu felt a pang of alarm. Her eye condition had worsened to the point where she could barely make out objects right before her. The princess still intended to use her.

Even if it were her last mission, she would put forth every ounce of effort, even if it cost her life.

Wan Baozhu’s gaze darkened, her tone cold and severe. “I need you to go to the cinema and observe that young owner’s every move. Report everything happening at the cinema back to me.”

Hongyu lowered her head in acknowledgment. “Yes.”

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