Ch 6: My Multiverse Supermarket

Qiao Sinian was different from Zhao Changyan. She was not completely alone in the world.

She still had a younger brother, Qiao Wulang, and a younger sister, Qiao Jiuniang.

Their father and uncle had both been conscripted and died on the battlefield.

Fearing that the government would seize their cousin Qiao Erlang as well, their aunt led them to flee south with other villagers to escape the chaos of war.

At home, it might have been just the three siblings now, but to outsiders, they were still part of one household with their aunt and cousin.

As a member of the Qiao family, Qiao Sinian couldn’t spend the money from selling her hairpin recklessly.

Before buying anything, she had to think carefully.

After much thought, she decided that filling her stomach came first.

To save her the trouble, Zhao Changyan said directly, “If you want to buy the most food for the least money, aside from rice, noodles are your best option.”

The supermarket sold 5-jin bags of dried noodles for only 18.9 yuan.

According to the Little Boss, someone with a small appetite could get about fifty meals out of one bag.

Cooking them only required a pinch of salt for flavor—no need for other seasonings.

If she’d had cooking equipment last night, Zhao Changyan herself would have bought noodles instead.

Qiao Sinian quickly compared the value of rice and noodles. Eighteen-point-nine yuan could buy 6.3 jin of fine white rice, enough for thirty servings of cooked rice—or more if she made porridge, though that would leave her hungry again soon.

In the end, she decided on the noodles.

When Qiao Sinian left the supermarket after paying, the hungry stares surrounding her made her feel like a lamb surrounded by wolves.

“Sinian!”

“Elder Sister!”

Her aunt and younger siblings pushed through the crowd to reach her, shielding her from the refugees who might try to snatch the food from her hands.

But the Chu people ignored their attempts to block them and crowded closer.

“Qiao Sinian, what’s inside?”
“Is that food? What kind? It looks strange.”
“Are things in there expensive?”

Her aunt’s voice boomed like thunder. “Instead of standing here asking questions, why don’t you go in and buy something before it’s all gone?”

That woke everyone up.

Both the Chu and the Dayue refugees rushed to the entrance, pushing and shoving.

Arguments broke out over who would enter first, and soon fists were flying.

Since the Dayue group mostly consisted of members of the Dou clan, they were united and easily overpowered the divided Chu refugees.

Inside the store, Zhou Li raised her phone to record the chaos.

The system asked, “Aren’t you going to intervene?”

Zhou Li replied silently, “Article One of the Interplanetary Trade Code: remember, we’re here to do business, not to interfere in local civil disputes.”

The system fell silent—a mix of admiration and exasperation.

Zhao Changyan, curious about the “divine device” in Zhou Li’s hand, didn’t have time to ask before Zhou Li put it away.

Dou Dailang and Xian Sanniang had come in to buy supplies.

Other Dayue refugees either stayed outside to hold back the Chu people or entered to trade goods for money.

Because Zhou Li had accepted two wooden items earlier, the Dayue refugees thought she had a fondness for wood.

Soon the counter was piled with wooden sticks, carrying poles, chopsticks, and washboards.

Zhou Li: …

All of it was ordinary wood—barely worth anything.

When the Dayue refugees heard how little it fetched, they realized they were losing out and decided to keep their items instead.

Then Xian Sanniang boldly guessed, “Perhaps what makes my box and Qiao Sinian’s hairpin valuable are the wood, craftsmanship, and age.”

Indeed, Qiao Sinian’s hairpin was an old heirloom but simple in design, hence inexpensive.

Xian Sanniang’s box—technically a lacquer box—used luodian (mother-of-pearl inlay) craftsmanship, which required embedding thin pieces of shell into lacquered wood or instruments.

The Dayue refugees dared not ask Zhou Li directly, but they began searching their belongings for something similar.

“Child, where’s the paperweight your grandfather gave you?” a Dayue woman asked her small child.

The five- or six-year-old, busy pulling mountain leeches off her leg, turned to rummage through their basket.

After a moment, she pulled out a long, rectangular wooden piece and handed it to her mother.

The woman quickly presented it to Zhou Li.

The system scanned it.

【Zitan Wood Literary Paperweight】
Age: 196 years
Date of Origin: 762 AD
Owner: Dou Girl
Starting Bid: 35,000 yuan (recommended)
Buyout Price: 40,000 yuan (recommended)
[Note: More valuable as a matching pair.]

Zhou Li asked, “Is there only one?”

The woman didn’t understand her, so she pulled Dou Dailang over to translate.

Dou Dailang said thoughtfully, “It’s clearly part of a pair. If we find the other, the value will rise.”

The woman’s eyes widened, and she began searching through the basket herself.

Soon, she pulled out another paperweight.

The first was carved with poetry; the second, with flowers and birds.

Together they formed a set: 【Zitan Floral and Poetic Paperweights (Pair)】.

The auction’s starting price instantly rose to 80,000 yuan, with a buyout price of 140,000, since the carvings were exquisite and the verses held scholarly value.

Zhou Li: …

These “refugees” were turning out to be quite wealthy.

But she recalled that Dayue was rich in rare woods—agarwood, zitan, huanghuali, even the imperial golden nanmu.

Of course, common folk might not know their worth.

And not all wooden items were valuable.

If someone carved a hairpin out of huanghuali on the spot, it might fetch only 80 yuan.

Only aged pieces or those made with special techniques, like Xian Sanniang’s lacquer box, had real value.

Worried that naming the price might make the woman a target, Zhou Li asked, “Would you like me to issue the card directly, or would you rather reconsider?”

The woman froze for a moment, then said quickly, “Just give me the divine card.”

Outside, people were dying to know—how much had she gotten?

Her child started to cry. “Mother, I’m so hungry… it hurts.”

Zhou Li hadn’t forgotten about the leeches on the child’s body. She called, “Zhao Changyan, take them to get those leeches off.”

Among all the refugees, only Zhao Changyan had experience with that.

The woman was wary of the Chu woman’s origins but reasoned that, in a divine lady’s dwelling, no one would dare steal or harm her. So she followed Zhao Changyan into the restroom with her child.

While they were inside, Dou Dailang and Xian Sanniang kept shopping, and Zhou Li continued uploading items for auction.

Suddenly, the child’s wails echoed from the restroom.

Both Chu and Dayue refugees shuddered and turned fearful eyes toward Zhou Li.

Zhou Li: …

Do they really think this is a demon’s lair?

Soon, their attention shifted back to Dou Dailang and Xian Sanniang.

Dou Dailang emerged carrying two 5-kilogram bags of rice.

In his other hand was a blue plastic bucket half-filled with salt, sugar, and other supplies, with a straw mat and mosquito net tucked under his arm.

Xian Sanniang’s hands were full too—one holding pots and baskets, their handles tied together with string by Zhou Li, the other gripping a bucket filled with kitchen knives and bags of noodles.

They had decided to lead their clan to settle at the foot of the mountain.

They had brought farming tools and oxen with them, so their only concern had been food—and now that was solved.

“From the Yangshan Pass to here takes some time,” Dou Dailang told the Dayue people. “Go back and fetch those still waiting by the road. We’ll camp here tonight and head down tomorrow to choose a place for our village.”

“Why not just live up here?” someone asked.

“You’ll have to see if the divine lady allows that,” said Dou Dailang. “Besides, it’s far less convenient up here.”

Though there was a small grassy clearing, the terrain wasn’t flat.

He’d rather live below and come up to trade occasionally than climb up and down daily to hunt and work.

The Dayue refugees agreed and followed his plan.

On the Chu side, the old man and others were also debating whether to settle nearby.

There was no broad farmland to till—but there was a goddess!

If they continued south to populated villages, they’d face rejection and taxation.

Here, at least, they might live under divine protection.

More and more Chu refugees leaned toward staying.

Old Chen finally said, “Then we’ll claim some land below the hill before the Dayue people take all the good spots.”

*

Zhou Li had no idea that a land dispute was brewing.

But she could sense the tension between the Chu and the Dayue refugees rising.

A Chu man came to buy salt, only to find it was gone.

“It must have been those Dayue people! They bought it all!”

To them, cheap salt being monopolized by another group felt no different from being robbed.

The Chu refugees grew agitated.

Zhou Li quickly intervened. “Salt? There’s more.”

She went into the storeroom and brought out a large box of table salt—fifty packs per box, with seven or eight boxes still in reserve.

Salt had a long shelf life, and since her small supermarket restocked only every few weeks, she always kept plenty.

That calmed everyone down.

Inside the restroom, Zhao Changyan had removed all the leeches from the child and rinsed her off.

“There’s something here that prevents infection and pus,” she said. “It’s called a band-aid. Buy some later and cover all her bites with them.”

The Dayue woman had already been surprised that this Chu girl spoke both the central dialect and the local tongue.

“My father was a scholar,” Zhao Changyan explained, “and my mother a native Tujia woman.”

That eased the woman’s wariness completely, and she thanked her repeatedly.

Looking at her, Zhao Changyan thought of her own mother and softened. “Also, Little Boss didn’t tell you how much money is on your card because she’s afraid others might overhear and get greedy. If you want to know, ask her quietly when no one’s around. If others ask, say it’s only a few thousand coins.”

The woman nodded gratefully.

Zhao Changyan then led the mother and child out and resumed her work as the store’s guide.

Uncertain of how much money she had—and fearful of being robbed—the woman bought only a few things: band-aids, some lollipops to calm her child, and buns to eat.

At checkout, she whispered through Zhao Changyan, “Divine lady, what if someone steals our divine card?”

Zhou Li said, “If it’s stolen, you can get a replacement.”

The woman bit her lip. “And if the thief uses it here to buy things—would you know?”

Zhou Li answered, “Of course. I recognize people, not cards. The cards are registered by name—only the rightful owner can use them.”

When the system listed items for auction, it created an account for each seller.

Money earned was transferred from that account into the supermarket’s membership card, meaning each card was bound to one unique account.

Even without names printed, each card had an owner’s information, and the system continuously monitored them.

The woman didn’t fully understand, but when she left, she deliberately handed the card to her child. “Put this in the basket, dear. Don’t worry about it being stolen—the divine lady said it recognizes its master and only we can use it.”

Little Dou girl licked her lollipop and nodded happily.

Everyone nearby heard her words.

Those who had been planning to “rob the rich to feed themselves” were left completely dumbfounded.

☢️☢️☢️