Ch 26: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

The Emperor’s movie companions included Wan Baozhu, the Eighth Prince, the commander of the imperial guards, a few inner attendants, and shadow guards hidden in the dark—an imperial outing could not risk any mishaps.

In the midst of the group clad in traditional attire, Lu Yao stood out sharply. She wore a mid-length white lightweight down jacket, her short ear-length hair loose, with a striking and exquisite golden lotus earring adorning her left ear.

The guests from the shopping street stared directly at the staircase, utterly bewildered by the scene.

Feng Xiang and Du Mingyan stole a glance at Fu Chi, assuming this was some special event he had arranged, like having actors in costume appear during the premiere.

But Lu Yao standing there, amidst this group of “actors,” gave the impression that this was just a promotional activity for the theater.

Feng Xiang felt increasingly uneasy.

What was Fu Chi doing, indulging in these frivolous antics? Could anything decent still come out of such efforts?

Du Mingyan also signaled with her eyes, questioning: What’s going on? Aren’t we just here to watch a movie?

Fu Chi calmly avoided her gaze and turned to look at Lu Yao.

In truth, Lu Yao’s timing had been perfect. It was just that the shopping street guests arrived slightly earlier than expected. Had they come two minutes later, the Emperor’s group would have already left.

Fu Chi had never personally received the Emperor before but understood that in the Great Wu dynasty, the Emperor was absolute. The shopping street guests, as important as they were, could not overstep the Emperor.

At the same time, forcing the shopping street guests to bow or kneel before imperial authority would make for an equally awkward situation.

Fu Chi’s eyes screamed for help: Boss, what do we do? What do we do?!

Lu Yao subtly waved her hand at her side, signaling him not to panic. She tilted her head slightly toward the Emperor and said, “During my last trip, I came across a few interesting trinkets. Would Your Majesty do me the honor of viewing them in the tea room?”

The Emperor had already noticed the guests near the door, whose attire and demeanor closely resembled Lu Yao’s. Over the past six months, he had learned a great deal about the origins of the cinema and could roughly guess where these people came from.

As Baozhu had once remarked, the cinema’s owner possessed the incredible ability to bridge ancient and modern times yet harbored no visible ambition.

It seemed she genuinely only wanted to run her business well.

For the Great Wu dynasty, making an enemy of such a person was unwise.

The cinema held knowledge and technology far beyond Great Wu’s grasp. The best approach was the current one: mutual reliance and support.

The Emperor’s gaze swept over Lu Yao. It was rare to see her so cautious and deferential. These guests were likely of considerable importance.

This shopkeeper truly ran a remarkable business.

Though deep and calculating, the Emperor was not rigid. He nodded slightly, granting his approval.

Descending the stairs, Lu Yao led the Emperor’s group to the left, toward the tea room.

Fu Chi had never moved so quickly. In just a few steps, he positioned himself at the entrance, blocking the shopping street guests from advancing further, bowing slightly toward the Emperor as they passed.

Feng Xiang and the others were left utterly perplexed.

Ji Feirong, however, seemed to catch on. Her gaze met the Emperor’s from a distance, and she nodded slightly out of courtesy.

The others, sensing something unusual, lowered their heads in acknowledgment.

Feng Xiang caught sight of a fleeting swish of embroidered fabric and froze briefly.

As a director who had once made several blockbuster period films, Feng Xiang had developed a keen eye for historical clothing and props. The embroidery on that fabric was extraordinarily intricate—far too fine to be part of a standard film costume.

What exactly was going on here?

Once the tea room door closed behind the Emperor’s group, Fu Chi straightened up, his expression calm as he explained, “Those individuals were also guests. Apologies for the disturbance. I’ve already arranged tickets for the two last-minute attendees. Let me take you upstairs.”

Both Ji Feirong and Bai Jing had informed Lu Yao in advance, and the assistant and Bai Lu had signed confidentiality agreements online as visitors.

However, since neither was on the cinema’s pre-approved guest list or beta test roster, they hadn’t received movie tickets through the system.

Given the unexpected situation, Fu Chi was eager to smooth things over quickly.

They ascended to the second floor, entering a spacious waiting hall lined with a row of claw machines. Screening rooms were located on both sides, but only one was designated as the holographic screening hall.

As they walked, Fu Chi provided a simple introduction. “Some of you may have visited the cinema before, while others are here for the first time. However, I believe this will be everyone’s first experience with holographic films.”

Bai Zheng and Bai Jin, who had been to the cinema before, whispered to each other.

Bai Zheng said, “Do you think those guests just now might be…?” He gestured upwards, hinting at something unspoken. Lu Yao’s quick reaction had made it clear they weren’t ordinary visitors.

Bai Jin nodded in agreement. “Didn’t you notice? There was a eunuch among them.”

Walking beside them, Bai Lu widened her eyes, wanting to ask but unsure where to start. Ever since they arrived at this street, everything had felt increasingly bizarre—not frightening, but dreamlike. Even her dreams had never been so imaginative.

Unable to hold back, Feng Xiang asked, “Fu Chi, when you say holographic film, do you mean this cinema has holographic technology?”

Hearing the skeptical tone, Fu Chi, familiar with his old friend’s fiery temper, still nodded calmly. “Yes, that’s correct.”

Feng Xiang opened his mouth to say more, but Ji Feirong interjected, “Then what are we waiting for?”

She was already eager to experience holographic technology. The other guests, too, looked excited, not doubting the reality of the claim.

Feng Xiang glanced at Du Mingyan, seeking an ally, but she shook her head, signaling him to hold back. It was evident this cinema was extraordinary, and the guests didn’t seem like naive fools. Better to wait and see.

They soon arrived at the screening hall, and Fu Chi decided against further explanation. With Feng Xiang’s stubborn nature, anything he said would only sound like a sales pitch—it was better to let the experience speak for itself.

Pushing open the door, the group entered the holographic screening hall. The stark white walls and empty floor greeted them—no chairs, no screen, nothing. The room was so barren it seemed like a poorly executed prank.

Feng Xiang, too bewildered to be angry, glanced at Fu Chi, incredulous. Was he really this mischievous at his age?

Fu Chi walked to the wall, pressed a smooth panel, and activated the system.

“Whoa!!!” Bai Zheng pointed at the floor, exclaiming.

The once-empty room now revealed about twenty chairs, faintly shimmering as they materialized. The chairs were widely spaced, with a massive silver-gray screen suspended mid-air in front of them.

Fu Chi gestured toward the seats. “Please find your assigned seats according to the numbers on your tickets. There’s a drawer in the right armrest with glasses; please put them on.”

Bai Jin cautiously reached out, his hand confirming the chair’s solidity. Circling around, he sat down, feeling the soft leather surface—it was no illusion.

“This is so cool!!!” Bai Jin wiggled excitedly in his chair, pressing a button on the right armrest. A drawer popped open, revealing a pair of glasses inside.

The Bai siblings’ five seats were arranged in a directional “East-South-West-North” layout. One of the seats was reserved for Bai Yi, who hadn’t arrived yet. Bai Lu, who was a last-minute addition, sat diagonally across from Bai Jin.

Feng Xiang and Du Mingyan’s seats were at the center—typically the best seats in traditional theaters. However, in holographic films, every viewer was placed at the heart of the story’s world, with the perspective shifting according to their senses. Seat location mattered little.

Ji Feirong, Ji Feichen, and the assistant sat close to one another, composed and unfazed. Despite being thoroughly impressed, they maintained their poker faces.

Next came Luo Huan and Jing Yuxi, equally quiet as they took their seats.

Once all the guests were seated and had donned their glasses, the room fell into an anticipatory silence. The screening was about to begin.

Fu Chi checked the time and prepared to start the screening.

At that moment, Bai Yi pushed open the door, taking small steps to her seat.

Lu Yao had learned that all the staff wanted to watch the film, but adjusting everyone’s leave schedules was impractical. As a compromise, she granted them a half-day perk called “movie leave.”

With twenty seats available in the holographic screening hall, there were still some unoccupied.

As the film began, Fu Chi quietly slipped into the shadows, taking a seat behind Du Mingyan.

At first, the guests were filled with curiosity but also wary skepticism.

They couldn’t help but feel that true holographic technology was still far in the future, and that whatever this cinema offered was likely a diluted version of what they envisioned.

Then, the screen flickered. A loud “Dong dong dong” of wooden clappers echoed around them.

Feng Xiang instinctively looked down and found himself standing on a silent, deserted street. A cold wind brushed his face, sending chills from his scalp to his feet.

Thankfully, this unnerving sensation didn’t last long. Soon, a sliver of light appeared on the horizon, and he saw a woman in a cotton-padded jacket and skirt pushing a wooden cart to a stall adorned with a small flag.

“Zhu’s Duck Blood Vermicelli Noodles.”

The woman quickly and skillfully unloaded her ingredients and steaming broth from the cart.

Feng Xiang wrinkled his nose. The lid of the broth barrel had jostled loose during transport, releasing a faint, rich aroma. Was he imagining things? He could almost smell it!

Meanwhile, Bai Zheng and Bai Jin sat at Aunt Zhu’s stall, observing the other patrons devour their noodles, swallowing hard as their mouths watered.

Bai Jin propped her face on her hand, frowning. “I always used to wish food bloggers’ videos came with smell-o-vision. Now I realize how naïve that thought was.”

Bai Zheng nodded vigorously. “Exactly! Being able to smell but not eat it—how cruel is that? This feature is worse than useless!”

The two of them had been chatting casually when the movie started, but now they were fully absorbed.

Bai Jin slapped the table in frustration. “Right?! What’s the point of just smelling it? If they’re so advanced, why can’t they deliver the food through the internet?”

Bai Zheng sighed. “This holography is so amazing—seeing, touching, and even smelling—but you still can’t eat? What a waste!”

Thanks to the holographic technology, the film faithfully recreated the bustling stalls of everyday Song’an Street, down to the ingredients, aromas, and tactile sensations.

For the residents of Liangjing, this was ordinary daily life. But for the modern guests, it was an enchanting, unforgettable experience.

Little did Liangjing’s residents know that in a distant future, a genre called “ancient transmigration” novels would capture readers’ hearts, driven by modern people’s fascination with the lives of those in the past.

Holographic technology brought the details of this era to life with a precision unmatched by novels or history books.

The shopping street guests felt as though they had truly traveled back in time, walking through a lively ancient street filled with endless sights to explore.

Feng Xiang stood transfixed outside a tailor’s shop, rising on tiptoes to admire the exquisite embroidery on the skirts and sleeves hung high above. He barely registered the lively chatter of nearby citizens discussing the cinema.

Du Mingyan lingered between Jinyu Pavilion and Rouge House, captivated by the ancient hair accessories and cosmetics on display.

Bai Lu, meanwhile, had followed the bustling crowd to the cinema’s entrance. She stopped short at the sight of the large sign reading Lu Yao’s Interdimensional Cinema in bold characters, paired with the lavish, eye-catching decor of the building.

Her heart raced as understanding dawned.

So that’s what this is!

Seeing the guests so immersed in the movie’s world, Fu Chi quietly got up and left the screening hall, heading downstairs.

Lu Yao was just coming in from outside. Upon spotting Fu Chi, she said casually, “The Emperor has already left. You keep an eye on things here—I need to go to the inn to redirect the hot spring.”

Lu Yao had her eye on a natural hot spring on the mountain and wanted to divert a stream to the inn while building a hot spring bathhouse.

Fu Chi asked, “What did you give the Emperor?”

Lu Yao shrugged. “A set of building blocks and a smartphone.”

Fu Chi: “???”

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