Ch 19: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

Before the alarm clock rang, Zhou Su opened her eyes.

Her body clock, shaped by months of early to bed and early to rise, woke her right on time.

Zhou Su grabbed her phone, as she always did, for a quick check before getting out of bed. Just as she set it back down, a notification abruptly popped up on the screen.

Twenty minutes later, she was fully dressed and ready to head out with her bag slung over her shoulder. Picking up her phone again, she paused in surprise.

[Hello, you’ve been invited to beta test the “Luyao Shopping Street” app. Would you like to download it?]

Below the text were two options: “Yes” and “No.”

Zhou Su hesitated, unsure of what to do. She remembered Lu Yao mentioning plans to develop a dedicated online system for the shopping street, but when she had asked about it during her last visit, the owner had been tight-lipped. She’d assumed the idea had been scrapped.

And yet, here it was, ready for beta testing?

Staring at the text, Zhou Su reasoned that very few people knew about the shopping street, let alone the fact that it was associated with Lu Yao’s name. It didn’t seem like a phishing scam or some other trick.

Logically, she thought it best to confirm with someone at the shopping street before proceeding. Emotionally, she was itching to experience the app for herself.

After a few moments of inner conflict, Zhou Su noticed that the notification screen wouldn’t disappear without a selection. She shut her eyes tight, curled her right thumb, and tapped “Yes.”

The screen changed immediately: [Response received. Application is loading…]

The loading process took longer than expected—nothing like the typical speed of downloading an app. Zhou Su, already on her way out the door, got into the elevator and headed downstairs.

Five minutes later, just as she stepped out of the elevator, her phone displayed: [Loading complete.]

The app icon was minimalist and direct—a hollowed-out character “遥” (“Yao”) on a transparent background. The name was simple: “Lu Yao Shopping Street.”

Curiosity got the better of her. Zhou Su stopped at her usual e-bike parking spot, unlocked it, and perched on the seat to open the app.

The interface was unexpectedly clean, almost bare-bones, and not at all like the store owner’s usual aesthetic.

With a black, white, and gray color scheme, the screen was mostly empty except for a menu bar at the bottom. Four tabs were visible: Contacts, Shopping Street Circle, VIP, and User.

Zhou Su quickly explored the functions.

• The Contacts tab appeared to be a basic chat feature.
• Shopping Street Circle allowed users to share photos, short videos, and text.
• The VIP tab was grayed out and displayed a message: “Currently unavailable in your area.”
• Finally, the User tab auto-logged her in, displaying her basic information: name, age, identity, and an ID code.

Her name, age, and code were marked private, visible only to her, while the identity field, labeled “Employee of Lu Yao Shopping Street,” came with a public butterfly ribbon badge.

Scrolling further, she noted the absence of a “Log Out” option—only “Delete App” was available.

Still puzzled, Zhou Su glanced at the time in the upper corner of the screen and panicked. She was about to be late!

Shoving her phone into her bag, she hopped on her e-bike and sped off.

Unbeknownst to her, the moment she stashed her phone away, she was added to an internal chat group named “Lu Yao Shopping Street.”

The group was already lively, with participants like Ji Zhixin from the Little Pet Cafe, Zhou Su herself, Fu Chi from the cinema, post-production editors Gao Si, Gao Meng, and Liu Tang, Bai Yi from the Childhood Tutoring Center, and new employees at the inn, Ji Qingyan and Zheng Ziyang—not to mention the store owner, Lu Yao.

The chat feature in the app was similar to mainstream messaging platforms, offering nickname customization, basic profile edits, and avatar updates.

Adding friends worked slightly differently in the app. If the other party was online, you could directly send a friend request. However, if they were offline, you would need their account code to send a request.

Lu Yao created the group chat, and everyone’s nickname in the shopping street’s internal chat group was displayed as their workplace name + full real name.

Most employees were startled when they received the sudden pop-up message at home or on their commute. After downloading the system and logging in, they were abruptly pulled into the chat group and were still processing what was happening.

[Interdimensional Cinema Liu Tang: What’s going on? Meow meow meow?]
[Childhood Tutoring Center Bai Yi: Is this the new feature the boss mentioned during New Year?]
[Hot Spring Inn Ji Qingyan: Yes, it’s still in the beta testing phase.]
[Childhood Tutoring Center Bai Yi: Qingyan, why does your name say “Hot Spring Inn”? Did our inn start offering hot spring services?]
[Hot Spring Inn Ji Qingyan: Not yet. The boss said we’ll eventually build a hot spring pool, so I updated the name in advance.]

[Store Owner Lu Yao: Welcome to the shopping street’s internal system beta test. I recall there are supposed to be eleven participants. Who’s missing?]
[Little Pet Cafe Ji Zhixin: Uncle Ming accidentally clicked “No.”]

Ji Feiming had recently been paying close attention to online news about telecom scams. When he saw the pop-up on his phone in the morning, he dismissed it without much thought and clicked “No.” Before leaving home, Ji Zhixin showed him her phone, explaining that the shopping street’s online system was in beta testing. Only then did Ji Feiming realize he had refused the invitation, leaving him as the only one not in the group chat.

Lu Yao quickly sent another beta invitation to Ji Feiming through the system’s backend, and all eleven participants were finally accounted for.

[Store Owner Lu Yao: The app’s main open features for now are Contacts and Shopping Street Circle. The beta testing period lasts three days. Use it as you normally would. Every evening, you’ll receive a “Feedback Form for the Internal System,” so please fill it out with your honest opinions.]

Zhou Su had just arrived at the store. Opening her phone, she skimmed the group messages at lightning speed.
[Little Pet Cafe Zhou Su: Does this mean “Contacts” is the internal chat system for the shopping street, and “Shopping Street Circle” is for sharing work content?]
[Store Owner Lu Yao: Correct.]
[Childhood Tutoring Center Bai Yi: Aaaah, I love the boss so much!]
[Interdimensional Cinema Gao Si: Curious about the “VIP” feature.]
[Store Owner Lu Yao: That’s a paid feature—no rush for now.]

The shopping street’s internal system wasn’t exclusively open to employees? A feature that required payment? Would anyone actually pay for it?

After explaining the basics, Lu Yao logged off.

…

Because Nitean habits revolve around rising at dawn and sleeping at dusk, the morning and late-night meals were now handled by Yuanwei after she joined the team.

Xiao Zheng’s workday started at 9 a.m., so he mainly took care of lunch and dinner.

Last night, the inn housed ten Nitean guests. Including Yingtong and Jianlan, there were twelve total guests.

With Yuanwei being new, Lu Yao worried the workload might overwhelm her and decided to assist with breakfast in the morning.

During the harsh Ice Period, trains were not in service, so Zhu Zhou and Heici also stayed to help in the kitchen.

Yuanwei had recently learned a dish called “Everything Wrapped in Pancakes” from Xiao Zheng, which seemed perfect for busy mornings with many guests. She started preparations early.

Yuanwei and Zhu Zhou worked on the pancakes and vegetarian fillings, while Lu Yao and Heici handled the meat fillings.

The vegetarian options included stir-fried bean sprouts, shredded tofu, shredded potatoes, shredded cabbage, shredded cucumber, shredded scallions, and shredded wood ear mushrooms—an impressive variety.

For the meat fillings, there were finely chopped bacon, shredded omelet, shrimp paste, crab sticks, black pepper beef, chicken, and pork belly.

Lu Yao also prepared a large pot of rice porridge. For the Nitean guests, she used a spoon to portion out servings, then blended them slightly in a mini juicer to make the texture smooth and easy to eat.

While Lu Yao and the small Nitean staff were busy preparing, Ji Qingyan, who arrived early, kept snapping photos with her phone and meticulously editing them afterward.

All internal information about the shopping street could only be shared via the “Lu Yao Shopping Street” app. Features like taking photos or videos were part of the “Shopping Street Circle” section, which also came with photo editing and video editing tools.

…

In the morning, the Nitean guests woke up to enjoy hot, delicious rice porridge paired with rolled pancakes. The hand-sized thin pancakes, filled with fresh vegetables and meats, were devoured in two bites each, followed by a mouthful of porridge. The guests were utterly delighted.

By the time Xiao Zheng arrived at the store, the lively breakfast rush had just ended. The Nitean guests were stuffed, their little bellies protruding. Unable to stand and uncomfortable sitting, they sprawled across the tables and chairs like peanuts.

…

The previous night, it had snowed heavily across the Nitean continent, and the storm hadn’t yet ceased.

The hunting squad’s plan to “go out hunting as soon as the snowstorm stops to pay for their lodging” was now dashed. They were anxious and perhaps even scared. After digesting a little and feeling less uncomfortable, they started helping clean up the tables and even vied with Zhu Zhou to do the dishes.

Listening to their banter, Lu Yao learned that Zhu Zhou had also been a member of the Red Pig Tribe’s hunting squad over a decade ago. At the time, he was young and valiant, already slated to become the next captain.

On one expedition to the Xiaguang Tribe, the team was attacked by a fierce beast. Zhu Zhou was seriously injured and thrown into a stream, where he was rescued by Yuanwei, who had been collecting water vegetables by the riverbank.

Later, Zhu Zhou decided to propose a Chengpu Contract with Yuanwei. To do so, he left the hunting squad and the Red Pig Tribe, traveling alone to the Xiaguang Tribe to seek her hand in marriage.

His wish was granted, but the cost was that they could never return to live in their respective tribes.

For Niteans from different tribes, marriage required moving out of their tribes—a rule passed down for unknown reasons but strictly followed by all Niteans.

Zhu Zhou and Yuanwei had no regrets about their decision. They had been together as partners for over a decade, living freely and peacefully in a valley not far from the Xiaguang Tribe.

Their only disappointment was their recent failed attempt to obtain seed pods at the Shenmu Tribe. However, in recent days, Yuanwei and Zhu Zhou had gradually moved past their low spirits.

The inn felt like a treasure trove, filled with unheard-of novelties every day. Learning and experiencing these things brought vibrancy to their lives, like the new green buds sprouting from barren trees during the Sunshine Season, as if their lives were blooming anew.

…

Outside, the wind and snow raged on. With little else to do after finishing their tasks, the Niteans gathered in small groups, sneaking occasional glances at Lu Yao.

Normally, during this season, they would be cooped up at home, sleeping through the harsh conditions. Though the inn’s rooms and meals were top-notch, they were staying there as stranded guests without having exchanged anything of value, making them feel uneasy.

Even though Lu Yao had shown an incomprehensible level of generosity and friendliness, her size and strength still left them unable to fully relax.

Lu Yao had her own dilemma. She had spent the night building a miniature outdoor cinema, intending to play movies during the day to entertain the guests.

However, she had forgotten that with the Dream Fulfillment System offline, she couldn’t use the system’s conversion services to instantly translate subtitles or dubbing. The Niteans wouldn’t understand the films.

After brainstorming various solutions, she decided to create subtitles in Nitean script herself.

The biggest challenge was that existing subtitle generation software didn’t support Nitean script. Since adding a new language to the software wasn’t feasible in the short term, Lu Yao asked around. Among the dozen or so Niteans present, only Yingtong and Jianlan could read.

Lu Yao split the film into three segments and manually transcribed all the dialogue from the first segment onto paper, converting it into Nitean script. She then scanned the script, shrank it, and printed it for use.

…

Finally, she invited the restless Nitean guests from the guest rooms to the outdoor cinema. The model television and chairs, built from blocks, were already in place.

The Niteans queued up to take their seats, curiously observing the hollow model ahead.

Lu Yao loaded the video on her phone and slid the device into the reserved slot in the model television.

The previously empty screen was immediately filled by the phone’s display, leaving the small Niteans seated below in awe.

Lu Yao had Yingtong and Jianlan sit on either side of the screen and handed them mini microphones and a script, requesting them to act as live voice actors.

The film was a simple yet delightfully whimsical story.

The male protagonist was an ordinary human like Lu Yao, while the female protagonist was as tiny as a Nitean.

Lu Yao had carefully chosen this film for a reason. No matter how much goodwill she extended, the Niteans seemed unable to fully trust her.

Mutual understanding is inherently challenging—even among humans, there are countless barriers, let alone between entirely different species.

Lu Yao hoped this charming story would make her Nitean guests feel more at ease.

The edited one-third of the film had the characters’ original voices removed, leaving only the background music. Key dialogues were dubbed live by Yingtong and Jianlan, making it understandable for all the Niteans.

The screening started a bit rough, with Yingtong and Jianlan often lagging behind the scenes in their dubbing. After a few tries, they finally managed to sync their voices somewhat smoothly.

Yet the Niteans were already captivated by the moving images of people and scenery inside the “box.” Even with repeated starts and stops, they watched with fascination.

They were especially drawn to the scenes featuring characters of a similar size to themselves, and the male protagonist’s image inevitably reminded them of Lu Yao.

The simple-minded Niteans were enthralled by the animated story. In tense moments, some would sit up straight, their tiny fists clenched on their knees, silently rooting for the characters.

In the back row, Zhu Zhou, Yuanwei, and Heici stretched their necks, utterly absorbed.

Meanwhile, Lu Yao sat by the unfinished left window ledge with her laptop, painstakingly translating the next portion of the script, segmenting and printing it out.

Ji Qingyan and Xiao Zheng were each assigned a minor role with only a few lines of dialogue. In their free time, they wandered around snapping photos with their phones. Satisfied with the footage, they retreated to a corner to edit, earning an envious glare from Lu Yao.

The two of them turned their backs, pretending not to notice.

Feeling a little guilty, Ji Qingyan eventually turned back and said, “You’re capable; that’s why you’re doing the heavy lifting. There’s not much we can help with here.”

Due to the rules of the Dream Fulfillment System, Lu Yao and her employees could communicate with guests effortlessly in the shop’s interdimensional space, with spoken language automatically translated into something both parties could understand.

However, the staff couldn’t freely convert written language like Lu Yao, nor could machine-recorded audio or video undergo automatic translation.

Lu Yao sighed in frustration and continued working. She, too, wanted to capture footage of the Niteans watching a movie!

…

At noon, during the lunch break for other shop employees, Fu Chi finished his shift.

Sometimes, he would have lunch at the store before heading home, but recently, he had been busy with film-related matters. He left directly after work and drove home.

Ever since his accident abroad last year, Fu Chi had grown fond of solitude. He had dismissed his live-in housekeeper, leaving only a caretaker who occasionally brought in cleaning staff.

When he got home, Fu Chi showered first. Just as he stepped out, his food delivery arrived.

He carried the meal box to the dining room, sat down, and glanced at the newly installed app on his phone.

Most of the work at the cinema had already been handed over to Die Qi, leaving Fu Chi focused on editing films in the background. Today, he hadn’t given much thought to the new app but decided to open it out of curiosity to see if anyone had shared anything.

The only chat group in the “Contacts” section had been buzzing since it was created in the morning. The colleagues discussed a variety of topics, mostly related to their shops—conversations they wouldn’t usually have over their phones. Some were even shouting to add each other as friends.

Within minutes of logging in, Fu Chi received several friend requests, all from shop employees in the shopping street.

He didn’t put on airs and accepted them all, even creating a “Colleagues” group.

After adding everyone, though, no one messaged him.

Fu Chi opened his meal box and picked up his chopsticks, intending to eat while browsing. He casually tapped on “Shopping Street Circle” and began scrolling. To his surprise, the feed was impressively long, with no end in sight.

He was a little taken aback—his colleagues were certainly quite dedicated.

He stopped halfway through and saw a video post from Ji Zhixin.

The content was straightforward: Ji Zhixin seemed busy, with the sound of waves crashing in the background. A chubby little waterdrop seal with shiny, grape-like black eyes lay pitifully on Ji Zhixin’s lap, letting out soft, pitiful cries.

“Whimper, whimper.” The little seal looked utterly aggrieved.

Ji Zhixin, clearly distracted, paused what he was doing to ruffle the seal’s round head. “Just wait a little longer. I’m almost done.”

The seal rolled to the ground in heartbreak and, with a few grumbles, rolled out of the room and into the hallway.

Fu Chi watched, stunned: “…”

When had Ji Zhixin become so… sentimental?

Was this the same Ji Zhixin who once epitomized the dignity and sophistication of the eldest heir of the Ji family?

Fu Chi sipped his soup and glanced at the comments under the video.

[Interdimensional Cinema Gao Meng]: Aaaaah! I’m dead! How can Piaopiao be this adorable!!!

[Interdimensional Cinema Gao Si]: Can’t cinema employees adopt a seal too?!

[Interdimensional Cinema Liu Tang]: Cuteness is justice! Waterdrop seals are the center of the universe!

One comment, two comments, three—all from the post-production team at the cinema.

Fu Chi: “…”

He understood the appeal of the waterdrop seal, but weren’t they overdoing it? These colleagues had never been so animated in work discussions.

Shaking his head, Fu Chi kept scrolling.

He saw Zhou Su share a picture of luxurious seafood noodles ordered by a customer, sparking a wave of drooling replies from colleagues. Bai Yi posted a photo of the time machine model from the Childhood Tutoring Center, featuring an Alfred figurine on her desk, and the same group bombarded her with questions about whether she had personally sat in the time machine.

The posts were full of random, trivial things, but as Fu Chi scrolled, he began to find them oddly entertaining.

Suddenly, he paused mid-scroll.

It was a video post from the inn, but what caught his eye first were the comments below.

[Hot Springs Inn Ji Qingyan]: Let me say it again: The! Store! Owner! Is! My! God!

[Hot Springs Inn Zheng Ziyang]: Let me say it again: The! Store! Owner! Is! My! God!

[Interdimensional Cinema Gao Meng]: Let me say it again: The! Store! Owner! Is! My! God!

[Childhood Tutoring Center Bai Yi]: Let me say it again: The! Store! Owner! Is! My! God!

[Little Pet Cafe Zhou Su]: Let me say it again: The! Store! Owner! Is! My! God!

[Little Pet Cafe Ji Zhixin]: Let me say it again: The! Store! Owner! Is! My! God!

Fu Chi couldn’t suppress a cough, clicking to open the video.

The first frame was mostly back-of-head shots, but Fu Chi immediately recognized the setting as the cinema. He knew Lu Yao’s new shop was a miniature inn, which he’d visited a few days ago, though he hadn’t seen this particular model.

As the video zoomed out, Fu Chi’s eyes widened slightly. He put down his chopsticks, holding his phone to rewatch the twenty-second clip—twice.

It was a short but striking video. A group of tiny people sat in a miniature cinema built entirely of blocks, watching a movie. The brilliance lay in the choice of film: an animated story about little people meeting a human.

The final second pulled back to show a diagonal view of the tiny patrons, captivated by the model TV, and Lu Yao at the windowsill, head bent over her work. The juxtaposition of the miniature and the real, of fiction and reality, created a poignant, almost magical impact.

The video cut off abruptly.

Fu Chi stroked his chin in thoughtful silence, then found himself replaying the video several times before heading to the comments.

[Interdimensional Cinema Fu Chi]: Let me say it again: The! Store! Owner! Is! My! God!

Lu Yao was browsing the shopping street circle when she noticed the overwhelming reaction to Ji Qingyan’s post. After reading through the comments and watching the video, she almost cringed into herself, her toes curling in embarrassment. Suddenly, Fu Chi’s comment appeared.

Lu Yao: “…”

A figure leaned over her shoulder, staring at the phone screen.

“What’s this?” a voice asked.

Lu Yao whipped around.

Harold stood there, hands behind his back, his gaze still fixed on her phone.

“It’s not time for school to be out, is it?” she asked.

The Dragon Valley Academy in Alexander Continent had reopened, and Harold and Tina had been flying long distances daily to attend classes, only returning to the nail salon by evening.

Recently, Harold only visited the inn after dinner. But now, it was still midday.

Had he skipped school again?

Harold, seeing her suspicion, spoke confidently, “It’s lunch break. I came to take a look. What’s on your phone?”

Harold often read comics and knew what a phone was, but this was the first time he’d seen messages from other shops and staff on Lu Yao’s device.

Lu Yao explained the internal network system to him in terms he could understand.

Harold listened quietly before his azure-blue eyes fixed on her with a peculiar intensity.

Lu Yao: “?”

Harold asked calmly, “If I had a phone, could I post pictures and videos on this network too?”

His tone was composed and polite, but his pupils had already contracted into vertical slits. Excitement sparkled in his gaze.

Lu Yao blinked. “…What are you trying to say? Be direct.”

Harold replied, “Buy me a phone.”

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