Ch 74: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

Zhong Lianjia’s sudden retirement caught everyone off guard. Contrary to fans’ expectations, he didn’t capitalize on his popularity by immediately starting live streams on any platform.

It felt less like he had retired from professional esports and more like he had disappeared entirely, bidding farewell to the world.

However, as a once hugely popular professional esports player, both Zhong himself and his in-game ID still had considerable heat.

On Big Eye (gaming platform), alone, Xiao Zhong had amassed over five million followers.

When a recording of gameplay featuring his ID hit the platform, it instantly attracted a massive audience.

The uploader, seemingly eager to stir up drama, chose a sensational headline and released it during the lunch break.

Fans flocked to the post, only to discover that it was indeed Zhong Lianjia’s national server account—but he was playing against bots. And terribly at that.

[“K King, K King, K King! Wake up already! No matter how far you’ve fallen, you don’t belong in the bot canyon!”]

[“Is this account hacked?”]

[“You sly ghost, you’ve finally returned!”]

[“LOL, K King’s bot game is being carried by the support!”]

[“So this is what the once great jungle king’s ADC looks like? I’m dying of laughter!”]

Fans who had watched Zhong Lianjia’s matches before mostly took it in stride and joked around.

Come on, this was the former King of the Jungle. No matter how rusty he was now, there was no way he could be this bad!

From another perspective, fans started speculating—since K King had been silent post-retirement, perhaps this sudden comedic buzz was a publicity stunt by his new company to promote an upcoming debut stream. Instead of disappointment, excitement grew.

Meanwhile, Zhong Lianjia’s former teammates, coach, and others familiar with him in the esports circle were bombarding him with inquiries.

Since announcing his retirement, Zhong hadn’t logged into his account once. His social media went dark, and the circle heard nothing of his whereabouts.

Seeing this sudden gameplay recording online, those who knew him were understandably shocked.

Even if he’d been thrashed in a match, it wouldn’t have caused such an uproar.

As for Zhong Lianjia himself, he was completely unaware. His phone, buzzing non-stop, was tossed onto the floor. He rolled over and went back to sleep.

…

At the Interdimensional Internet Café

The Spider Demon handed over ten premium spirit stones in exchange for a much-anticipated Big Eye account.

Unlike other male and female demons in the nearby Baixian Mountain who were addicted to online games, the Spider Demon was naturally disinterested in gaming.

Instead, she registered for a streaming account and began binge-watching dramas.

On the platform, there were many fresh, captivating stories—like live-action retellings of traditional script books. The Spider Demon was soon hooked.

Initially, she picked ones with familiar xianxia settings: The Legend of the Immortal, Linglong Tales, Sword Immortal Romance… All stories of mortals cultivating immortality, filled with love and grudges.

In these stories, demons were either subdued, slain, or tricked by humans, ultimately stripped of their powers and reduced to their original forms.

Demons who stayed beside the protagonists were always either cute and petite or special spirit beasts. Most Spider Demons in the tales were seductive and malicious, if not obsessed with the love of mortal men.

In short, none of them ended well.

After seeing enough of these, the Spider Demon grew irritated and started exploring other genres.

Recently, she’d become fond of a modern romance drama and particularly adored the devoted male second lead.

Because of her infatuation, she paid close attention to the bullet comments discussing him and learned about a place called Big Eye.

It was said to have more content related to the male second lead.

The Spider Demon navigated from the bullet comments to the discussion sections but still couldn’t find Big Eye.

She eventually asked the internet café manager and finally located it.

Unfamiliar with typing on a keyboard, she hesitated for a long time and didn’t register an account.

A few days later, a demon brawl broke out in the café, angering the owner. The café shut down, and the Spider Demon was consumed with regret.

She thought she’d never see that melancholy yet passionate man again.

Today, upon hearing that the café had reopened, the Spider Demon rushed over and handed over her hard-earned spirit stones to create a Big Eye account.

The good news was that the internet café had upgraded to new keyboards, which now allowed the key symbols to scroll and switch between various scripts, including the hidden and companion scripts of the demon clans. This made it much easier for demons to type and communicate with others online.

To help their customers learn, Lu Yao and Alfred created video tutorials, stored on every computer in the café. Most returning customers could self-learn typing by following the videos.

The Spider Demon diligently studied for an hour, barely grasping the rules, and then practiced for another half hour following the tutorial before finally opening the Big Eye icon with great care.

There were also video guides on how to use the most common software, conveniently stored on the desktop.

Step by step, the Spider Demon followed the instructions, executing each action with precision until she managed to correctly type the name of the person she wanted to learn about in the search bar.

“Shua——”

A list of related results appeared under the search box. The Spider Demon read through them one by one, experiencing the joy of surfing the internet for the first time.

After finishing her search, she exited and began exploring other interesting features on Big Eye on her own.

Before long, she stumbled upon the trending video section and saw the now-popular gaming clip.

As a novice internet user, the Spider Demon had no idea about the clickbait tactics of online headlines. Seeing the word “Shocking,” she fell for it and clicked eagerly, only to find game content she had no interest in.

She forced herself to watch for about two minutes but couldn’t make sense of it, so she exited and scrolled down to the comment section.

The comments were filled with internet memes and jokes, many of which she didn’t fully understand. However, in one highly upvoted comment, she spotted a photo that seemed oddly familiar.

Curious, she tried clicking the image to enlarge it and realized that the person in the photo was Xiao Zhong, the café’s net manager.

It was actually an old meme photo from Zhong Lianjia’s days as a professional esports player.

The Spider Demon didn’t understand the context but was thrilled to recognize someone she knew online for the first time.

Unfortunately, Xiao Cheng was the net manager working today, not Xiao Zhong, or she could’ve teased him a little.

The two café net managers, faced with their demon clientele, were always cautious and reserved. Demons, being naturally uninhibited and carefree, often enjoyed poking fun at them.

Suppressing her excitement, the Spider Demon, like a child eager to show off a newly learned skill, clicked the reply box and painstakingly typed out a slow but deliberate message:

[How is the café’s net manager Xiao Zhong showing up here?]

Satisfied with her work, the Spider Demon exited Big Eye and returned to the Kiwi Video platform to catch up on the episodes she’d missed. Every now and then, she paused the video to carefully type her thoughts into the comment section.

The café’s new keyboard was simply amazing.

Her internet surfing experience improved exponentially.

What she didn’t know, however, was that the casual comment she left on Big Eye would stir up an even bigger storm online.

The gaming video’s popularity had already started to decline, but the phrase “net manager Xiao Zhong” reignited the buzz. The comment was shared widely across other platforms, causing the video to trend again.

When Zhong Lianjia woke up in the afternoon and picked up his phone, his inbox across various social platforms had exploded with messages.

Every single one asked him the same question: “Did you really become an internet café net manager?”

As he scrolled through the messages, Zhong Lianjia felt a chill down his spine.

It wasn’t just the embarrassment—he was bound by a strict confidentiality agreement with the shopping street. If its existence were exposed, who knew what the consequences might be?

Panicking, Zhong Lianjia immediately messaged Lu Yao.

Lu Yao, upon receiving the call, calmly reassured the terrified Xiao Zhong.

“This isn’t a big deal,” Lu Yao explained. The Spider Demon’s comment hadn’t revealed any critical information.

In fact, from the very beginning, Lu Yao and the internal network team had set up arrangements to prevent incidents like this. There were information filters and dedicated NPC monitors to ensure key details remained confidential.

If any guests from the Floating World Continent posted inappropriate information online, the internal network would intercept it immediately, ensuring it never appeared on the public internet.

The only victim in this incident was Xiao Zhong.

Lu Yao apologized sincerely: “I didn’t know that was your main account. Sorry about that—I didn’t expect it to cause such a stir online.”

Zhong Lianjia, who had been nervously scratching his head, calmed down upon hearing this: “As long as it didn’t violate the confidentiality agreement, it’s fine. Everything else is no big deal.”

Lu Yao continued, “I really feel bad about this. As compensation, as long as it doesn’t go against any major principles and is within my abilities, I’ll grant you one request.”

She added, “A monetary compensation is also an option.”

Zhong Lianjia hadn’t expected such a pleasant surprise.

He was no longer the naïve rookie employee he once was.

Knowing the scope of the shop owner’s abilities, he realized this promise was worth far more than money.

“Boss, can I save this compensation for later?” Zhong Lianjia asked.

Lu Yao replied, “Sure. Let me know when you’ve decided.”

After hanging up, Zhong Lianjia immediately posted a reply on Big Eye:

“Still alive. Not feeling down. No plans to start live streaming. I’ve joined the world’s most interesting internet café as a professional net manager, and I never want to leave. Don’t persuade me, don’t miss me.”

No matter what new storm brewed online, Zhong Lianjia turned off his screen, took a shower, changed clothes, and got ready for his shift.

Meanwhile, Lu Yao hung up the phone, turned back to see Zeyuan sipping tea, and gave him an eager, expectant smile.

“Your Excellency, I have a small favor to ask.”

Zeyuan lowered his lashes and replied in a slow, measured tone: “I also have a small favor.”

Lu Yao hesitated. “…Then… you go first.”

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️