Ch 43: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

After the onset of the Twightlight moon season, the Nitean little people became noticeably more active, and it seemed the inn had gained some reputation among them, with a steady flow of guests checking in daily.

The brick cottage and rose garden guest rooms were particularly popular, with the rooftop tea rooms of the brick cottage and the restaurant and tea room on the first floor of the rose guest rooms already in use. The art studio and reading room were still under preparation, primarily because they needed custom-made “little people books” to suit the preferences of the Nitean little people.

Lu Yao’s intention was to enrich the inn’s activities as much as possible. She understood that the Nitean little people had lived a nomadic life with almost no written culture so far. While she had no ambition to popularize “nine-year compulsory education” on the Nitean continent, she simply wanted to create miniature, adorable, yet surprisingly practical books for them.

The task of creating these handmade books was assigned to Bai Lu, but the content selection was something she and Lu Yao worked on together. Lu Yao didn’t interfere in the artistic aspects that Bai Lu excelled at. However, for everything else, Lu Yao not only screened the content herself but also issued a “task” in the staff group.

When the staff heard it was for creating books for the little people, even the liveliest among them were enthusiastically on board. Lu Yao actively sought their opinions in the group and occasionally held meetings with them to adjust the book content. For unfamiliar topics, Lu Yao sought out experts in other worlds to adapt their knowledge to something suitable for the Nitean continent.

Bai Lu was responsible for layout, illustrations, and production. Though it was a busy and fragmented task, Bai Lu was thoroughly enjoying herself every day.

Once the reading room and art studio preparations were on track, Lu Yao added a large music room next to the reading room. It included three small rooms designated as the piano room, harp room, and guqin room. Some Nitean little people could sing, dance, or play simple melodies using leaves or grass stalks, but they had no exposure to complex instruments like pianos, harps, or guqins.

Ji Zhixin contacted acquaintances to custom-make miniature pianos and harps, while Lu Yao ordered miniature guqins and pipas from the Great Wu Dynasty. These instruments had to be scaled down by several times while retaining full playability.

As for music theory, Lu Yao had some understanding, but she was far from a professional. She enlisted the help of Jing Yuxi, a VIP from the shopping street, and a trusted acquaintance from the Great Wu Dynasty to compile some basic knowledge.

With the entertainment rooms in the rose garden guest rooms well-arranged, the flower seedlings Lu Yao had ordered also arrived. She had contacted a florist in Yaoguang City specializing in miniature bonsai and ordered a batch of seedlings.

The glass greenhouse behind the rose guest rooms occupied half the windowsill. Although the area wasn’t particularly large, it extended to just below the second-floor windows, with slanted grooves on the roof designed for placing small flowerpots.

The seedlings Lu Yao received were mostly 5–10 cm tall, and the small flowerpots were around 7.5 cm. The selection included a variety of species: miniature roses, miniature climbing roses, dwarf jade roses, rice bamboo, miniature snow-in-summer, and short moss, with different subspecies under each category.

While ordering flowers, Lu Yao noticed a type of miniature acorus called “golden acorus,” which resembled the system-issued acorus seedlings she already had, so she didn’t order extra.

From a human perspective, these small potted plants were already miniature enough. But from the little people’s viewpoint, these plants were tree-sized. Nevertheless, since the flora on the Nitean continent was of regular size, these miniature bonsai still felt novel to them.

After the Red Pig Tribe’s migration, Monk, Dada, and Zhuang Yu often hunted near the inn and came by during lunchtime to eat and rest. Today, after overeating, they strolled around the inn and found Lu Yao sitting by the windowsill arranging the bonsai.

Monk leaned over the edge of a flowerpot as big as a tea bowl, reaching out to touch a drooping branch of light pink miniature roses. “Lu Yao, this is the first time I’ve seen such beautiful flowers,” he said.

Zhuang Yu was also intrigued. “Will these flowers be planted outside?”

Lu Yao shook her head. “For now, they’ll stay in the flower house behind the guest rooms.”

Zhuang Yu looked a bit disappointed.

They typically sneaked into the inn for rest and meals during their hunting trips, never staying long or overnight, fearing reprimands from their chieftain.

Even so, they frequented the inn more and more, with their numbers steadily increasing.

Once the lunchtime guests left and the residents either retired to their rooms or went out, the inn always settled into a serene and peaceful atmosphere in the afternoons.

Lu Yao felt that the miniature flowerpots were still a bit large for the flower house. She secretly inscribed “lightening” and “shrinking” magic arrays under the pots, reducing their height to 25 cm and their weight to less than 30 grams, making them perfect for display in the flower house.

Only two climbing roses were left in their original state. Lu Yao placed these by the glass greenhouse windows, setting up trellises for them. Once they grew and spread over the greenhouse roof, the pink blooms would create a striking visual effect.

She also placed two pots of blooming dwarf jade roses in the grooves under the windowsills of each guest room on the second floor.

The rose garden guest rooms had finally earned their name.

Miniature bonsai like these can also be plagued by pests such as “red spider mites.” Lu Yao planned to use magic every three days for physical pest control.

By evening, the sky was adorned with hues of twilight. Guests returning from their outings trickled back into the inn, while those who had stayed in their rooms came downstairs after freshening up.

The aroma of food filled the air, yet the crowd gravitated toward the glass flowerhouse behind the rose garden guest rooms.

Having been vacant for days, the flowerhouse was opened to guests right after its maintenance.

While the Nitean continent was abundant in flora, rarely were there bonsai as delicate and ornamental as these. For the smallfolk, walking through the flowerhouse felt like wandering in an enormous garden.

On the clearings nestled between the foliage, small benches and low tables were scattered about. Guests rested there after a stroll, surrounded by the refreshing sweetness of blooming flowers.

At dawn and dusk, the smallfolk loved to visit the flowerhouse, which quickly became a favorite spot for both guests and staff.

Ji Qingyan and Bai Lu were equally enchanted by the newly opened glass flowerhouse. Early in the morning, they had scrambled for angles to take photos, then compared them with the real view, becoming more and more captivated with each look.

Ji Qingyan remarked, “This glass flowerhouse is truly amazing. I wish I could bring my friends here to see it.”

Bai Lu nodded enthusiastically. “If my classmates saw this, they’d absolutely lose it! They’d be screaming non-stop! It’s incredible!”

The two finished taking pictures and prepared to edit them for a post.

As they reviewed their material, it became clear that the inn consistently had the most interesting and engaging content to share, always garnering strong reactions.

Lu Yao commented, “Wait until those two climbing roses grow over the glass roof—it’ll look even better.”

With the glass flowerhouse essentially complete, the innkeeper’s next “project” was the hot spring guest rooms across the way. Blueprints and materials were already prepared, awaiting construction.

…

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting golden light over the lush grass.

Ziye led two red pigs, walking alongside Jiexiang, as they stepped into the Shenmu Tribe’s territory.

Compared to other tribes, the Shenmu Tribe’s land was always small, stationary, and sparsely populated.

But the tribe had never before appeared so desolate and impoverished. Its towering, grand temples still stood, yet now loomed over clusters of boxy, dilapidated houses—a stark contrast that outsiders seeking the fetal seed had never noticed before.

Ziye, born and raised in the Shenmu Tribe, remembered every blade of grass and every tree around their territory.

Compared to a few years ago, the tribe felt like a middle-aged person who had aged overnight—hair graying, face numb, shrouded in a melancholic aura.

The guards stationed at the border recognized Ziye, blinking in surprise before stepping forward to greet him. “Ziye?”

“Zhu Zhu, still guarding the borders after all these years?” Ziye said softly, his eyes already tinged with a smile.

Zhu Zhu didn’t mind at all. He glanced at Jiexiang beside Ziye and hooked his arm around Ziye’s shoulder, leading him a few steps away. “Why are you coming back now? Don’t tell me you’re here for the fetal seed. The elder already said, ‘None left.’”

Ziye was well aware of the situation. He hadn’t harbored any illusions about having his own fetal seed in this lifetime. He lowered his voice, “I want to meet the chieftain and the elders. Find someone to pass the message for me.”

Back then, Ziye had insisted on binding with Jiexiang as his partner, almost driving the chieftain and elders to illness with anger. He was practically chased out of the tribe by the chieftain wielding his short staff.

No one could have imagined that, four years later, Ziye would return.

If he had chosen to bond with someone within the tribe back then, he would have unquestionably become the head knight.

Zhu Zhu hesitated. “You know how stubborn the chieftain is. He’s not going to see you.”

Ziye said calmly, “Then tell him this: ‘Ziye is back to pluck the Acorus Flowers—two hundred plants—and plans to haul them out of the tribe.’”

Zhu Zhu took a deep breath, trembling with laughter. “Getting a partner’s made you funnier than you were in your youth. But there aren’t two hundred Acorus Flowers left in the tribe anymore. The Great Yangju Tree withered three years ago—coincidentally the year you left—and the Acorus Flowers followed. Nowadays, we couldn’t even find a hundred plants.”

Zhu Zhu started off chuckling but ended with a bitter expression.

Ziye lowered his eyes. “Then just say I’m here to strip the tribe of every last Acorus Flower.”

A childhood prank that always worked now drew no laughter.

Zhu Zhu slapped Ziye twice on the back and turned to pass the message himself, not bothering to find someone else.

Unlike those who came seeking fetal seeds, Ziye had voluntarily left the Sacred Temple. Without the tribe’s permission, he wasn’t supposed to return.

Jiexiang, feeling a bit tired, came over to take Ziye’s hand after watching him talk with his tribesmate. “The Shenmu Tribe doesn’t seem as lively as it used to, does it?”

The first time Jiexiang had visited the tribe was to accompany a novice from her own group to request a fetal seed.

At that time, the tribe hadn’t been so desolate. At the border, apart from the two guards, there was no one else around now.

The other guard, a young smallfolk named Bijing, looked barely past adulthood based on her size.

Bijing sighed, “With fewer people, of course it’s quieter.”

Jiexiang was puzzled. “How could the Shenmu Tribe have fewer people? You hold the fetal seeds—if you want prosperity, can’t you just have more children?”

Most other tribes seemed to think the Shenmu Tribe could produce fetal seeds at will.

Bijing shook her head bitterly, offering no reply.

Just then, a patrol squad rushed over from the other side of the border, led by Jianlan.

Spotting Bijing, Jianlan shouted, “Come with me to the Sacred Temple, quick! The chieftain’s been attacked!”

What?!

What kind of situation was this?

Who in the Shenmu Tribe dared to attack the chieftain?

Could it have been one of the visitors here today seeking a sacred seed?

Bijing grabbed her weapon and immediately joined the patrol squad.

Ziye’s face darkened, and he pulled Jiexiang along to follow them.

The Sacred Temple was a small, elegant moon-white palace. Its pillars and walls were entwined with massive tree roots, some piercing through the structure. The damp foot of the walls was coated in a thin layer of dark green moss, and compared to years ago, it truly resembled an aged, weary elder.

Behind the palace stood the once-mighty Sacred Tree. Its leaves were gone, its branches thin and brittle, now resembling the gaunt face of a ghostly specter.

Ziye silently climbed the long-cracked steps, his emotions conflicted.

Inside the main hall, the elderly chieftain was being helped to the side, receiving treatment for his injuries.

The smallfolk who had struck him was already restrained by the Sacred Temple knights but continued to curse loudly.

“My partner and I have come every year, for three years straight, and you still refuse! Is it because we’re bonded from different tribes?”

“You old geezer! What gives you the right to deny us a fetal seed?”

“Don’t think we don’t understand. Over the years, the number of fetal seeds from the Shenmu Tribe has dwindled. Have you been keeping them for yourselves?”

…

In the main hall, a young knight was flushed with anger and about to retort, but Zhu Zhu, standing nearby, quickly covered his mouth and dragged him to the rear hall.

Zhu Zhu noticed Ziye had slipped in as well and signaled for him to follow.

In the rear hall, Zhu Zhu released the young knight and scolded him, pointing at his forehead. “What were you about to say back there? Huh?”

The young knight was still seething. “Our tribe hasn’t successfully granted a fetal seed in seven years. Seven years without a single child being born. Those people know nothing and just keep demanding fetal seeds! Why shouldn’t we tell them the truth?”

Ziye paused at the doorway, glancing at Jiexiang beside him.

Jiexiang held his hand and smiled, shaking her head gently.

Ziye suddenly recalled when he first met Jiexiang. Back then, he already understood his fate and had decided to accept it.

The Sacred Tree was dead, and his tribe would perish with this generation.

Ziye wasn’t afraid of death, but he had never thought about how to pass the hopeless and seemingly endless stretch of time before it came.

That day, like usual, he stood guard at the Sacred Temple. Inside, people pleading for a fetal seed were embroiled in a heated argument with the chieftain.

Outside, a female Nitean smallfolk sat idly, bored, and struck up a conversation with him. “Have you ever been to the Xiaguang Tribe?”

Ziye assumed she wasn’t really talking to him and remained silent.

Jiexiang picked up a tiny twig and poked his knee with it. “Hey, knight, have you ever been to the Xiaguang Tribe?”

Ziye glanced at her in surprise and shook his head.

Jiexiang continued, “I heard the food there is amazing, and the men are especially good at cooking.”

She scooted a little closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. “I plan to go there and snag myself a partner who can cook for me every day.”

Ziye didn’t have much of a desire for food, but seeing her bright, laughing eyes, his heart skipped a beat.

She had no idea that choosing a partner from another tribe meant she would never have children of her own.

Ziye considered warning her, but in the end, he didn’t. Perhaps it was out of some selfish, darker part of him.

The outcome was that the once-proud knight of the Sacred Temple went to great lengths to bond with a gluttonous bear-girl and left the Shenmu Tribe.

For three years, they relied on each other, never once bringing up the matter of fetal seeds.

Ziye had assumed Jiexiang didn’t know. She was always a bit scatterbrained, except when it came to food. But now he realized she might have known all along.

His face paled.

Jiexiang leaned close to his ear. “You’ve always been a bit dense. Don’t feel bad about it. I’m already used to it. If there’s none, there’s none. Honestly, I don’t really like kids anyway.”

When Ziye and Jiexiang bonded, both their tribes fiercely opposed the union.

What Ziye didn’t know was that someone from his tribe had told Jiexiang part of the truth about the Sacred Tree’s death, hoping to dissuade her.

But she still chose Ziye.

“…” Ziye silently turned and hugged Jiexiang tightly.

Jiexiang wrapped her arms around her sulking, foolish partner, chuckling softly. “Alright, alright.”

“Ahem.”

Zhu Zhu and the young knight had already noticed them lingering outside and, after waiting for a while, decided to interrupt.

Jiexiang released Ziye and greeted them with a nod.

Ziye, still holding her hand, turned to Zhu Zhu and said, “Go inform the chieftain and elders. We’ve found a fetal seed in the wild.”

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️