Ch 250: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World

Ji Feichen was not accustomed to situations beyond his control, especially in the past six months, where finding Lu Budu had gradually solidified his influence within the clan.

However, in this peculiar street, it felt as if he was back to the past, having lost control over the rules.

Ji Feichen didn’t truly believe that the store owner could erase the clan members’ memories, but because of Budu’s presence, he couldn’t say so openly.

After hearing Ji Feiming’s proposal, Lu Yao offered two options: “Erase their memories or sign a confidentiality contract. I prefer erasing memories, as knowing about this street has no benefit for them. On the other hand, erasing their memories would make the shopping street safer.”

The Ji clan was different from ordinary customers. They knew divine secrets and had volatile thoughts. Lu Yao believed that having Ji Feiming and Ji Zhixin at the shopping street was sufficient.

The owner’s words left Ji Feiming without objections.

Lu Budu didn’t object either.

Ji Feichen had objections, but they were not considered.

Thus, Ji Feichen realized that they truly had no say.

Ji Feichen and Ji Feirong signed the confidentiality contract, becoming the only two Ji clan members to retain their memories. The rest had their memories of the morning erased.

Ji Zhixin decided to take Ji Feirong to visit the Little Pet Cafe, while Ji Feichen escorted the memory-erased, unconscious clan members back to the villa.

This matter had a significant impact within the Ji clan. Even though these dozen members had lost their memories, the city-wide search for Budu the previous day was not easily concealed. However, at least the secret of the shopping street was preserved, and the number of those in the know was greatly reduced.

As Ji Feichen left, he looked pitifully at Budu, but Budu only had eyes for the store owner.

Budu told him to escort the clan members away, with no further instructions, and no need to return.

On the other side, Ji Feirong, wearing a special wristband, stepped into the pet cafe, watching her calm demeanor slowly crumble into barely contained astonishment.

So this was the truth. No wonder Ji Zhixin and the former divine envoy willingly stayed here.

This wasn’t some rundown, abandoned street—it was practically the ultimate divine realm their Ji clan had been pursuing for millennia.

Ji Zhixin took Ji Feirong through the octopus room, the coral room, the sea urchin room, the whale room… exploring each one, and then ordered a table full of food to take to the fishing room above the water.

Ji Feirong removed her coat and shoes, sat on the edge of the pier with her feet in the seawater, and hugged a large sashimi platter. The sea breeze, tinged with light moisture, brushed her face, prompting her to sigh contentedly.

Outside, snow piled inches high, but the fishing room was as warm as early summer. There was no better place to relax.

After eating, Ji Feirong leaned against a few sunbathing waterdrop seals and closed her eyes. Before long, she had fallen asleep.

She woke up around noon and only left the Little Pet Cafe after having lunch.

Before departing, she proactively exchanged contact information with Lu Yao and even got a VIP card.

Since the shop only served regular customers, she felt reassured being just that—a customer who could occasionally visit and unwind.

Not long after, the four Ji clan members who retained memories formed a small group chat.

The secret that the Ji clan was no longer under divine protection was known only to these four.

Guiding the clan forward became a major challenge.

They would occasionally discuss it in the chat, but Lu Yao and Budu were unaware of these matters.

…

After handling the Ji clan affairs, Lu Yao and Budu returned to the tutoring center.

Xin Xin and Zhou Jing came by again, but this time, Xin Xin didn’t insist on buying the center. Instead, she picked out a basketful of snacks and a stack of manga, renting out a glass tea room to pass the time.

Lu Yao ignored her.

Bai Yi and Sang Li finalized the tutoring plan and submitted it to Lu Yao.

After adjusting the key, Lu Yao approved it.

Bai Yi officially began tutoring Sang Li.

With the tutoring center now registered with an official account, Hu Jiao also formally started his role. His current tasks mainly involved managing the official social media account, posting updates, answering fan questions, and monitoring tutoring sessions—a responsibility he would take on fully after finishing his own tutoring.

The afternoon tutoring session was for No. 52 from the research institute, again hosted by Lu Yao.

No. 52 came alone this time, bringing with him a small bone fragment.

Lu Yao’s eyes dropped to the sterile container holding the bone. “Whose bone is this?”

No. 52’s smile was gentle. “A researcher who once took care of me. Don’t worry, he’s long gone. The body is stored in the research institute, and I submitted a usage application. It’s all legitimate.”

Lu Yao looked skeptically at No. 52: “…”

His expression remained unchanged.

Not using the bone immediately, Lu Yao took out her phone and considered whom to contact. Her fingers hovered over several names—from Xiao Mei and Zheng Siyao to An Yan—before choosing to reach out to An Yan and Xiao Mei for verification.

Though she trusted A instinctively, it was better to have more sources for a well-rounded perspective.

Five minutes later, Xiao Mei responded, confirming that No. 52 had indeed applied for the bone’s use.

Another ten minutes passed, and An Yan also replied, verifying that the bone had been approved for removal.

Looking at the bone once more, Lu Yao’s emotions were complex. This was her first time handling a deceased person’s bone.

The experimental subjects in the superhuman research institute weren’t limited to numbered superhumans; researchers themselves were also subjects.

Lu Yao took the bone into the research room, ready to integrate it into No. 52’s time key.

The completed time key now bore a thin, white pattern—evidence of another person’s life records.

The research room was adjacent to Lu Yao’s office, situated just behind Bai Yi’s office.

Last night, during shop maintenance, the main body of the time machine, Alfred, had been stored in the research room.

Today, each tutor’s office had a model of Alfred, all replicas.

These replicas retained the time-travel and tutoring functions but only had a usage lifespan of three months.

Every three months, they needed to be replaced.

The information obtained by the replicas would be absorbed and preserved by the main body.

With the key inserted into the lock, a blinding silver light enveloped them. When they opened their eyes again, the surroundings had changed—they were back in the research institute from the last session.

This time was different. With the new information integrated, No. 52 was able to take Lu Yao outside.

They left the original research institute and, after a four-hour journey, arrived in another city at a new research facility.

Standing in front of the research institute’s gate, a flash of realization crossed No. 52’s eyes. So, this was where they ended up.

Lu Yao and No. 52 put on their transparent stickers and confidently walked into the Black Cat City supernatural research institute.

Whether it was due to the similar internal structure of the institutes or some other reason, No. 52 seemed familiar with the layout and led Lu Yao to start searching from the third floor. They combed through the third to sixth floors without finding anyone, then worked their way from the ninth, eighth, and seventh floors with the same result, and finally searched from the second floor down to the basement level.

No. 52’s initial high hopes turned into confusion.

“I asked him—the last researcher who interacted with my parents was here. Why is there not a single clue?”

He started doubting everything.

Lu Yao continued searching for documents in the second basement.

This research institute retained many paper documents in the basement, outside of their digital database.

The entire second basement was a massive archive, and Lu Yao followed the signs while persuading the system to help filter for keywords.

After half an hour, Lu Yao held five files, flipping through them one by one before picking out two.

“I think I found it.”

No. 52’s heart skipped a beat as he took the thick manila folder.

There was no name on the folder, only the experiment subject’s number.

A manila folder encapsulated an entire life story of an experimental subject.

At least, it detailed all the experiences after they became a subject.

No. 52 started flipping through the documents with eager curiosity, but as he progressed, each page was just another record of experiments. The pace quickened as he skimmed through the later sections.

The father’s records ended with a death entry.

There was no special cause—he simply reached the limits of his physical endurance during an experiment and died on the spot.

No. 52 put down the folder, his face devoid of expression, and picked up the other file.

The female experimental subject’s records grew more detailed after her pregnancy began. Every day of her pregnancy had been meticulously documented.

But that was it.

No. 52 kept flipping until he reached the death record.

This female subject had died six months after the male subject. Based on the childbirth date mentioned earlier, she died when No. 52 was just a year old.

No. 52 said, “I figured they were probably gone. It doesn’t really matter; I never met them.”

Lu Yao silently handed him a yellowed piece of paper.

No. 52 took it, looking puzzled.

Lu Yao explained, “It’s probably something she left for you.”

The paper was a bit stiff, with half-printed text on the back, as if torn from the label of some reagent bottle.

The slip had been inside the female subject’s file, presumably added later by a researcher.

It fell out when Lu Yao opened the folder.

The handwriting on the paper was messy and delicate, crammed with long lines of writing.

“My memory is getting worse. After taking Reagent 27, my body has deteriorated significantly, and I spend most of my time in a daze. They said that after the next experiment, I would get to see my baby. But I don’t want to. As long as I finish the next round of reagent testing, the baby will be sent to the community care center. That’s our agreement with the institute. Even though 135 and I won’t be there for him, at least he won’t have a number…”

There were a few more lines, but they were too jumbled to decipher.

No. 52 leaned against the shelving unit, his legs suddenly weak as he slowly slid down. He reached up to touch his eyes, his voice hoarse. “Strange, why do my eyes hurt so much…”

The female subject’s number was recorded as 292.

From the contents on the paper and the records in the folder, she hadn’t survived the next round of reagent testing.

Lu Yao helped the dazed No. 52 up; time was almost up.

Back in the Childhood Tutoring Center, No. 52 still hadn’t fully processed everything.

Lu Yao sat across from him, quietly waiting.

After about half an hour, No. 52 suddenly jolted awake, glancing around at Lu Yao, surprised to find himself back.

He rubbed his eyes again, sensing something odd, while the other hand still held that yellowed slip of paper.

“What’s this…”

Lu Yao explained, “It’s not uncommon for tutoring participants to receive special items during their sessions.”

These were completely different from the commemorative badges given by the tutoring center.

No. 52’s emotions, which he had tried to suppress, surged again at the sight of the paper.

Without bothering to collect himself, he stood up. “Thank you for today’s session. I think I’ll head home for now.”

Lu Yao stood as he left. In the adjacent room, Bai Yi and Sang Li seemed to have just finished their first session as well.

Xie Molin was on the phone, a look of concern on his face.

After a moment, he hung up the phone and turned to see Lu Yao. “Boss.”

Lu Yao asked, “What’s up?”

The research center where Xie Molin used to work had run into trouble. Several test subjects had died, and the situation had spiraled like an unstoppable contagion.

Since he left, things had only worsened.

Today, they couldn’t hold back any longer and called him. Xie Molin also felt the need to return and assess the situation.

He asked Lu Yao for leave.

Lu Yao approved his leave, her mind drifting back to No. 52’s tutoring session earlier.

The world was more complicated than she had imagined.

On one side, there were mass experiments erasing humanity; on the other, people fighting desperately to save broken experimental subjects.

With Xie Molin gone, Bai Yi and Sang Li emerged from Bai Yi’s office soon after.

Lu Yao was talking to Budu when she noticed their tense expressions. “Did the tutoring not go well?”

Sang Li remained silent.

Bai Yi nodded.

“What’s the issue? Tell me about it,” Lu Yao said.

She had already reviewed Bai Yi’s tutoring plan, which included clarifying the truth, restoring Sang Li’s reputation, and helping her avoid further bullying.

The tutoring process had gone smoothly without any errors.

Sang Li graduated from the session, maintaining genuine and positive friendships with her peers.

But after the tutoring, Bai Yi received a report from Alfred declaring it a failure.

And Sang Li, once her memories returned, was also dissatisfied with the result.

Bai Yi, feeling puzzled and disheartened, had discussed it with Sang Li repeatedly but couldn’t find a breakthrough. She had no choice but to seek Lu Yao’s input.

Lu Yao reviewed Alfred’s report and looked up at Sang Li.

The plan was fine, and the process had no issues, so the problem likely lay with the participant herself.

Sang Li’s expression was cold. “The tutoring felt childish, like playing house. It was too naive.”

Bai Yi’s face showed embarrassment.

Lu Yao patted her reassuringly.

Sang Li continued, “During the tutoring, I didn’t have my memories. Once I got them back, I felt sick thinking about how I groveled for acceptance from those who mistreated me. I don’t care what they think or say—I just want them far away from me, out of my world.”

As she spoke, Sang Li’s previously indifferent face gained emotion, her eyes burning with anger.

It seemed the tutoring goals had not aligned well with Sang Li’s true desires.

The incident during middle school had fundamentally changed Sang Li’s worldview and how she viewed relationships and friendships.

Bai Yi’s tutoring only skimmed the surface and hadn’t truly connected with the participant’s core feelings, resulting in this outcome.

Ultimately, childhood tutoring wasn’t about doing what was objectively right but about listening to the participant’s voice and weaving an experience that met their expectations with authentic depth.

Just as when Lu Yao tutored Xu Xiaoxiao, where a real-life news event provided a vital anchor, making the session truly effective.

Sang Li didn’t want to resolve misunderstandings or maintain a fragile facade of friendship with her classmates.

Lu Yao contemplated for a moment and looked at Sang Li. “I understand your thoughts. We’ll revise the tutoring plan. To apologize, the next session will be free of charge.”

Sang Li wasn’t sure if Lu Yao really grasped her feelings, but under the clear, gentle gaze, her inner agitation calmed. She reluctantly agreed.

After Sang Li left, Bai Yi was still downcast.

Lu Yao patted her shoulder, suggesting she talk to Xu Xiaoxiao.

To protect client privacy, Lu Yao never shared details of other participants’ sessions. But if Xu Xiaoxiao was willing to discuss her experience, Bai Yi could better understand the intricacies of the work.

…

Late night.

Sanhua City, Supernatural Research Institute.

X sat on his bed, holding a yellowed, stiff piece of paper.

No. 52 stood by the door, his face still marked with lingering shock. “Are you sure the boss is powerless? But she definitely took me through time.”

Since his return, he had struggled to process the tutoring session, feeling increasingly hollow until the pain became a dull ache.

135 and 292.

They never even left behind their names.

They also couldn’t know that he ended up with a number and lived as they once did.

X’s fingers traced the paper’s edge, his eyes glimmering with intrigue. “I am certain she has no abilities, but what you brought back isn’t fake. I’m more interested in her now.”

No. 52 asked, “What do we do next?”

X replied, “I want to meet her.”

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Thingyan: Could this X be the god of this world?