Ch 242: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World

The group chat was as lively as a New Year celebration, but Ji Zhixin felt a strange unease as he looked at the photo.

[Ji Zhixin: @Ji Zhixun Was that really the child just now?]

[Ji Zhixun: @Ji Zhixin My hand slipped, sorry about that.]

It wasn’t like she was liking a post, so this “slip” was rather suspicious.

In the chat, the reactions exploded as if water had been splashed into hot oil, creating a flurry of messages.

[Ji Zhixiang: !!!]

[Ji Zhixiang: @Ji Zhixun, please, I missed it! Begging you to send it again!]

[Ji Zhile: Zhixun, the child came down from the mountain—is he heading back to Tianji?]

Leaning against the car window with a slight tilt, Ji Zhixun remembered the child’s destination and restrained her expression as she typed.

[Ji Zhixun: He’s only come down from the mountain today. Where he plans to go, only Uncle Chen knows.]

The younger Ji family members, who had never seen the child, wailed and clamored for Ji Zhixun to send the photo again.

Ji Zhixin had already exited the chat, heading out of the Little Pet Café and crossing the street toward the blind box shop.

At the entrance of the shop, Ji Feiming was staring outside. A few months ago, the old, dilapidated buildings around the shop had been torn down and rebuilt. Now, the new buildings were habitable.

In this world, people worked from sunrise to sunset, as if returning to an era of men plowing and women weaving. Time seemed to flow in a peaceful, gentle rhythm.

The blind box shop no longer provided just basic survival items. Recently, a batch of lipstick and face cream blind boxes had arrived. They were all gone within half a day.

Upon entering, Ji Zhixin saw Ji Feiming, seemingly lost in thought.

“Uncle, the child has come down from the mountain.”

Ji Feiming’s gaze sharpened, his brows already furrowing.

No one had informed him of this.

Ji Zhixin handed him the phone. “Something seems off.”

Ji Feiming looked at the phone screen, his expression shifting as he took the phone outside to examine the photo more closely. A suspicion formed, and he couldn’t resist confirming it again.

He asked, “Is this…?”

Ji Zhixin replied, “A photo Ji Zhixun shared in the group chat. I asked her, and she confirmed it’s the child.”

The photo seemed to be taken secretly, with low resolution, capturing only a side profile.

But the details were unmistakable.

The child had silver hair, red eyes, snow-white skin, and a gaze as distant and serene as snow on a mountaintop.

This look, this expression, was all too familiar to Ji Feiming and his nephew.

The child leaving the Sacred Mountain surely had a reason.

Ji Feiming immediately contacted the family, dialing three numbers, none of which were answered.

His face darkened.

Ji Zhixin said, “Don’t worry, I’ll try calling my mother.”

But her call also went unanswered.

Unable to wait any longer, Ji Feiming strode toward the door.

“I’ll go find the shop owner first.”

Unfortunately, Lu Yao had just left for a tutoring session with Bai Yi, Xie Molin, and Hu Jiao.

Hu Jiao opened his eyes, finding himself back in the familiar apartment in the Kumquat neighborhood.

He looked down at his hands—short fingers, a hint of chubby dimples on the backs, unchanged from the last time.

A knock sounded, and he looked up. “What is it?”

Lu Yao’s voice came through the door, “Breakfast is ready. Still not up?”

Hu Jiao threw off the covers and climbed out of bed. “I’m up.”

Five minutes later, he was seated at the dining table with a hot breakfast in front of him: a lightly browned fried egg, a sausage split open to reveal its juicy filling, boiled corn segments, fresh cherry tomatoes cut in half, two slices of soft, buttery toast, and a cup of warm milk beside a white porcelain plate.

Hu Jiao was stunned for a moment before speaking, “Not having buns for breakfast today?”

Lu Yao, sitting across from him, replied, “Do you prefer the meat buns downstairs over a breakfast lovingly prepared by your mom? Oh, how heartbreaking.”

Hu Jiao’s face stiffened, and he muttered, “That’s not what I meant.”

Lu Yao stood up, leaned across the table, and ruffled Hu Jiao’s hair. “I know. Now, eat up.”

After breakfast, Hu Jiao hesitated, as if wanting to say something, but just then, the doorbell rang.

Lu Yao got up, tossed the dishes into the dishwasher, and said, “Hu Qi is here. But you’re not going to school today; I’ve already called in for you.”

A look of confusion crossed Hu Jiao’s youthful face.

Lu Yao picked up her bag from the sofa and headed to the entrance. “This is part of the adjustment for today’s session. Mr. Xie will come to pick you up shortly. Don’t worry, just go with him.”

As she opened the door, she spoke to Hu Qi. “Hu Jiao has a cold today, so he won’t be going to school.”

Hu Qi stood in the doorway, looking lost.

Lu Yao bent down, took his hand, and closed the door behind them. “It’s alright. We’ll go together.”

Hu Jiao sat alone at the dining table, dazed, unable to figure out Lu Yao’s intention.

Lu Yao took Hu Qi to school, placing him in the passenger seat.

On the way, Lu Yao glanced at his tightly clenched hands and his serious, pursed lips. Unlike his usual lively, talkative self with Hu Jiao, he seemed tense.

Keeping her gaze on the road, Lu Yao spoke in a gentle tone, “Little Hu Qi.”

Hu Qi turned to look at her. “Hmm?”

Lu Yao said, “Hu Jiao and I both like you a lot. Would you like to live with us?”

Hu Qi blinked, then slowly shook his head.

Surprised yet unsurprised, Lu Yao still asked, “Why not?”

Hu Qi lowered his head, struggling to find the right words.

As the car turned a corner and the school came into view, Hu Qi’s soft voice finally came out.

“If I leave, Mom will be alone, and I’d worry about her.”

He didn’t mention his father.

At not even seven years old, Hu Qi had a soft heart, while Hu Jiao at seventeen was set on self-destruction.

The more lovable and sensible little Hu Qi had been, the more heartbreaking seventeen-year-old Hu Jiao was.

…

The doorbell rang, and Hu Jiao jumped off the chair to open the door.

Standing outside was Xie Molin, dressed neatly in a suit. “Little Hu Jiao, I’m here to take you out.”

Hu Jiao had met this new tutor from the tutoring center that morning. “Where are you taking me?”

Xie Molin replied, “To the place the boss arranged. You’ll find out when we get there.”

Before heading out, Xie Molin handed Hu Jiao a necklace.

Hu Jiao took it and put it on. A silver-white glow radiated from the necklace, gradually enveloping his body.

When the light faded, Hu Jiao’s form had elongated, transforming him into a young adult in a suit.

The two of them left the apartment, one after the other.

Xie Molin had brought a car, and he drove them out of the Kumquat neighborhood, heading straight for the central business district.

They took an elevator from the underground parking lot of an office building. As the elevator went up, Hu Jiao began to realize where they were.

The elevator opened and closed, with some people getting in and others getting out, until they finally stopped on the 27th floor.

Xie Molin stepped out first and turned back to look at Hu Jiao.

Hu Jiao took a deep breath, clutching the hem of his jacket, and stepped out of the elevator.

They walked through a corridor, and Xie Molin led Hu Jiao straight into an office, where no one seemed to find their presence unusual.

Hu Jiao looked up and immediately recognized the man sitting at a desk—a man whose back alone identified him as his stern father.

They had arrived at his father’s workplace, but Hu Jiao still didn’t understand the boss’s purpose.

Xie Molin guided Hu Jiao to a desk diagonally across from his father’s and whispered in his ear, “Today, you’re an employee here. Just relax. I’ll come pick you up after work.”

Hu Jiao’s father worked in finance, but it wasn’t until now that Hu Jiao understood his father’s job involved making endless phone calls to clients. Most of the time, the calls ended with the other party hanging up before he could even get a word in.

At that moment, a familiar yet slightly new expression crossed the man’s face—one of frustration, irritation, and resignation.

The frustration was familiar, but the resignation was something new.

After lunch during the break, Hu Jiao witnessed another intriguing scene. His father and a few men were chatting in the smoking room, discussing a newly hired female employee. After they left, the others returned to their desks, but his father turned toward the adjoining break room and approached the new employee.

Hu Jiao couldn’t hear their conversation, but a few minutes later, the woman and his father sat down face to face. She, facing the door, wore a shy smile.

Hu Jiao smirked, knocked on the door, and went in to fill his water cup. Then, he sat down beside the woman, glanced at his father, and struck up a conversation with her.

The new employee was around Hu Jiao’s real age, making it easy for them to find common ground.

His father’s face darkened.

Hu Jiao kept a subtle watch on his father’s expression and casually mentioned, “At the last company dinner, I met Brother Hu’s wife and son. The little one’s name is Hu Qi, right?”

Under the woman’s curious gaze, the man stiffly nodded.

As Hu Jiao had anticipated, the boss wouldn’t place him in this company without adjusting the relevant background details. His remark didn’t raise any suspicions.

When the lunch break ended, Hu Jiao and the woman left the break room one after the other, ignoring his father entirely.

In the afternoon, there was a company meeting. Hu Jiao noticed his father seated at the very end of the conference room, keeping his head down like a student afraid of being called on, avoiding eye contact with the leaders throughout the meeting.

It struck Hu Jiao as strange. This man, who acted like a dictator at home, bossing around Chen Jing and him, would curse or even resort to violence over the slightest annoyance.

But here at work, outside the realm he called “family,” he was meek, despicable, and entirely ineffective—a far cry from the “stress relief” he claimed beating others provided.

And to think he once feared such a cowardly, contemptible man.

When the workday ended, no one in the office packed up. They all stayed at their desks, either on their computers, making calls, or just killing time.

Right on time, Xie Molin arrived to pick up Hu Jiao.

Without hesitation, Hu Jiao shut down his computer and got up to leave.

He felt his father’s gaze from across the room but had no interest in considering what the man might be thinking.

As they exited the building, Hu Jiao stood amidst the bustling street and exhaled, saying, “The weather is great today.”

Xie Molin looked up at the sky, sliced into small sections by towering buildings and streets, with a narrow view of the distant sky. It didn’t seem particularly pleasant.

Xie Molin’s gaze returned to Hu Jiao, his eyes glinting.

That morning, a cloud the size of an adult’s head had been hanging over Hu Jiao. Now, that cloud had dissipated, revealing a small sun peeking halfway out from behind it.

So that was it.

It wasn’t that the weather had cleared, but rather that the tutoring student’s mood had brightened.

Emotional Weather Forecast — Xie Molin’s superpower in action.

As a child, Xie Molin had been highly sensitive to others’ emotions. Over time, he developed his abilities, constructing his unique “emotional weather forecast.”

He could use his ability to see the emotional state of anyone whose name he knew.

• Small Cloud: Moodiness
• Small Sun: Happiness
• Cloud with Raindrops: Sadness
• Cloud with Snowflakes: Hopelessness
• Blushing Cloud: Shyness or embarrassment
• Gray-Blue Cloud: Awkwardness

…

Xie Molin’s emotional weather forecast system was remarkably detailed; as long as he knew someone’s name, he could see an emotional icon floating above their head.

Lu Yao was an exception.

Just as Zheng Siyu’s psychic empathy didn’t work on her, Xie Molin also couldn’t see his boss’s emotional icon.

Back at the Kumquat neighborhood, Hu Jiao removed the necklace, and his appearance returned to that of a six- or seven-year-old.

Xie Molin left, and barely half an hour later, sounds came from outside—the return of Lu Yao and Hu Qi.

Hu Qi hadn’t gone home; instead, he came in with Lu Yao to visit Hu Jiao.

Seeing Hu Jiao sitting on the sofa, Hu Qi’s furrowed brows relaxed a little. “Hu Jiao, are you feeling better?”

Hu Jiao had nearly forgotten that Lu Yao had called in sick for him that morning. His excitement was evident, though he tried to restrain it upon seeing Hu Qi. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s play aeroplane chess.”

Hu Jiao and Hu Qi sprawled on the living room carpet, playing their game.

After tidying up in the kitchen, Lu Yao came out and announced, “Hu Jiao, your third session is complete.”

A brief moment of daze later, Hu Jiao found himself back in the tutoring center.

Bai Yi and Xie Molin had returned a minute and a half earlier.

Bai Yi was chatting with Ji Feiming and Ji Zhixin while Xie Molin discreetly observed the emotional icons above the trio’s heads.

As soon as Lu Yao returned, Ji Feiming and Ji Zhixin immediately stood up.

Lu Yao was surprised. “What happened?”

The two were rarely this unsettled; something unusual had clearly happened.

Ji Feiming glanced at Ji Zhixin, who took out his phone, opened the photo album, and held it up to Lu Yao.

Ji Zhixin asked, “Boss, do you recognize him?”

Lu Yao’s eyes shifted upon seeing the photo. “Who is this?”

Ji Feiming stood up. “This isn’t the place for this conversation. Let’s move somewhere else.”

Given the matter concerned the future deity of their world, Ji Feiming instinctively felt they shouldn’t discuss it in the store. Lu Yao had no objections, giving a few instructions before following the two outside.

Standing on the quiet, desolate roadside of the shopping street, Lu Yao looked at Ji Zhixin’s phone once more. “Who’s this kid?”

Ji Feiming and Ji Zhixin exchanged a glance before Ji Feiming began explaining the connection between the child and the deity.

As Ji Feiming described the child’s identity, the Dream Fulfillment System continuously sounded an alarm.

Ignoring the system’s warnings, Lu Yao listened intently, then asked calmly, “Do you think he has any connection to me?”

The expressions on Ji Feiming and Ji Zhixin’s faces honestly reflected their thoughts.

But Lu Yao firmly shook her head. “I don’t know him.”

Ji Feiming and Ji Zhixin’s faces betrayed mixed emotions.

…

After the third session, Hu Jiao was in a noticeably better mood than after the previous one.

He was scheduled for a fourth session.

However, after three sessions, he needed to complete a psychological assessment.

With guidance from Xie Molin and Bai Yi, Hu Jiao completed the new assessment and scheduled his fourth session for two days later.

This time, he didn’t linger at the tutoring center and went straight back to the research institute.

Upon returning to his dorm, Hu Jiao found his roommates discussing X again.

X underwent daily power level tests.

He still couldn’t defeat Professor An.

In theory, X’s power level wasn’t higher than Professor An’s, yet the intelligence deconstruction researchers hadn’t found a breakthrough with him.

One of his roommates asked Hu Jiao, “You go to that… Childhood Tutoring Center every few days. Is it actually helpful?”

The others turned to him with curiosity.

Hu Jiao nodded slightly. “It’s okay. Why do you ask?”

They hadn’t shown much interest in the past.

The roommate explained, “During an experiment, I overheard the lab coats talking. Someone suggested sending X to that tutoring center. They say the boss there can extract people’s memories. Is that true?”

“Lab coats can’t do it, but they’re counting on some private agency’s ability user?” another roommate scoffed before Hu Jiao could respond.

“Memory extraction is a pretty terrifying ability,” added another roommate. “If they send X there and don’t make any progress, he might even manipulate them and escape.”

X was known for psychological manipulation and had previously misled and used public officials, escaping custody more than once. The staff at the Sanhua City Supernatural Research Institute remained cautious, isolating X and preventing him from interacting with other subjects. Even the staff avoided engaging him in conversation.

If they really sent X to the Childhood Tutoring Center, it’s hard to say who would be teaching whom.

Thinking of Lu Yao, Hu Jiao couldn’t help but assess the situation in his mind.

The boss was undoubtedly strong.

But compared to X, she might not have the upper hand.

Her view of the world was too gentle; faced with a ruthless criminal, she’d definitely be at a disadvantage.

Hu Jiao, not wanting Lu Yao to face X, refrained from arguing, letting his silence appear as tacit agreement with their conclusions.

Seeing this, the others lost interest and dropped the topic of the tutoring center.

Hu Jiao lay down, mulling over his next tutoring session, when he suddenly received a communication request from the front desk. Someone downstairs was asking for him.

He got up, put on his shoes, and prepared to go down, puzzled.

He had no other connections in Sanhua City, and apart from his tutoring sessions, there was hardly anyone who would come to visit him.

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