Ch 26: My Multiverse Supermarket

Zhou Li was not trying to create panic.

The truth was that hygiene in the ancient world was poor—most people didn’t even boil their water before drinking it.

And honestly, even in modern times, there were still cases of people getting roundworm infections from drinking untreated water.

If her words could make them pay more attention, and start changing their habits now, maybe they could avoid many illnesses in the future.

For now, though, the most important thing was treating the child with malaria.

She wasn’t a doctor, so the best help she could offer was providing the medicine itself.

Then suddenly, Zhou Li remembered the auction house.

If she could post things there for sale, surely others could too, right?

“System, search the auction house for ‘artemisinin’.”

A tenth of a second later, the search results appeared.

Filtering out listings for the plant and crude herb, there were only a few relevant results left—
but Zhou Li found exactly what she needed: artemisinin tablets.

A prescription drug.

But the auction house had a way of skirting regulations.

Just like when she had listed tiger pelts—though it displayed a strict warning about endangered species products, it hadn’t actually forbidden the listing.

So prescription drugs might be “restricted,” but not banned.

Which probably explained why the prices were steep.

In a normal pharmacy, a box of artemisinin tablets cost a little over 40 yuan.

On the auction site, they sold for 98.

Zhou Li used her personal funds to buy all three boxes available.

The system asked, “Where should I deliver them?”

“Inside the supermarket.”

The next instant, three boxes of dihydroartemisinin tablets from a certain pharmaceutical company appeared in her hands.

Each box had two blister packs, nine tablets per pack—fifty-four tablets in total.

For a region where malaria was common, fifty-four pills were far from enough, but better than nothing.

Zhou Li didn’t hand the medicine to the child’s parents directly.

Her gaze moved between Zhao Changyan and Gong Qiongxian before settling on the latter.

“Lady Gong.”

Standing outside, quietly observing the situation, Gong Qiongxian froze for half a second before realizing the “goddess” was speaking to her—she was, after all, the only one there with the surname Gong.

Gong Qiongxian quickly stepped forward and bowed. “Little Boss, what do you command?”

Zhou Li said, “I have here a medicine that can help treat malaria.”

She was careful not to sound too absolute—after all, even artemisinin tablets weren’t one hundred percent curative.

Gong Qiongxian’s eyes lit up. She immediately bowed again. “Thank you, goddess, for bestowing the medicine.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” said Zhou Li. “Hear me out first.”

Gong Qiongxian obediently stayed silent, watching the medicine box in Zhou Li’s hand with anticipation.

“This medicine is only for malaria,” Zhou Li said. “It’s not for ordinary fever or headache.”

She wanted to make sure they didn’t treat it like some miracle cure and misuse it.

“Second,” she continued, “there are dosage instructions printed here. You must follow them exactly. Taking more won’t make you recover faster—and not everyone can take this safely. It’s best administered under the judgment of a skilled physician.”

After a pause, Zhou Li asked, “Do you know why I’m giving this medicine to you?”

Gong Qiongxian blinked—then understood.

If it were about divine favor, surely “Changyan” was more deserving. Yet the goddess had given the medicine not to Zhao Changyan, but to her.

Was it because she was the emperor’s representative?

She answered carefully, “Because I am a servant of Great Yue.”

Zhou Li shook her head. “Because you are the parent-official of Great Yue’s people.”

Gong Qiongxian’s heart jolted.

Parent-official—a reminder that a true official should care for the people as a parent does for their children.

The goddess was admonishing her to put the people first.

Gong Qiongxian trembled slightly and bowed deeply. “Yes… Qiongxian accepts the divine command. I will not fail my duty.”

Zhou Li handed her the medicine and a rewritten instruction sheet, keeping the boxes for reuse.

Perhaps it was that divine admonition—or perhaps guilt over her own selfish ambition—but Gong Qiongxian began to take the malaria outbreak seriously.

She ordered the Yue soldiers to inspect the nearby villages for other cases and sent her attendants back to Xingwang (Prince Xing) Prefecture to summon the imperial physicians.

When the refugees saw that the government wasn’t there to punish them as fugitives, their fear began to ease.

With Zhao Changyan and Gong Qiongxian’s efforts in treatment and prevention, the panic that had gripped the mountain settlements gradually subsided, and order returned.

*

Late that night, the system asked Zhou Li, “Are you sure you want to return to your main world as planned?”

Zhou Li said, “I’ve done what I can. Staying longer won’t help. And the warehouse is nearly empty—I need to restock.”

Besides, with her gone, Zhao Changyan and Gong Qiongxian would be freer to work.

The refugees no longer trusted the Great Yue court.

If not for the emperor’s corruption, the eunuchs’ control, and the witches’ manipulation, they wouldn’t have become fugitives in the first place.

To them, Gong Qiongxian was no different from the eunuchs she served.

They believed in Zhou Li, the “goddess,” far more.

But once Zhou Li was gone, the refugees would have no choice but to cooperate with Gong Qiongxian.

Would anyone resent her departure? Perhaps.

But Zhou Li didn’t care.

She was here to do business, not play savior.

The only people who could truly save them were themselves.

The system asked, “Why her? Gong Qiongxian doesn’t have a good reputation among the people.”

Zhou Li replied, “You can’t judge character until you’ve worked with someone. You can’t know what someone’s capable of until they try.”

The system was silent.

So this one’s not even a civil servant yet, and she’s already talking like a seasoned bureaucrat?

When the set time arrived, the system initiated the plane transfer.

*

“Court Attendant Gong! The goddess’s cave—it’s gone!”

The shout split the night air.

Gong Qiongxian, who had only just fallen asleep, shot awake.

She threw off her mosquito net, grabbed her round-collared robe, and rushed out of the tent.

The mountain was blanketed in fog, though the strong wind at the peak had thinned it somewhat.

And where the three-story house had once stood—there was now only emptiness.

Gong Qiongxian suddenly remembered that the goddess had said earlier that day she would soon leave.

At the time, she hadn’t believed it—hadn’t even paid attention.

Later, she’d been so occupied with the malaria crisis that she’d completely forgotten.

She had even assumed that, even if the goddess left, her divine abode would remain.

But now, even the building itself had vanished.

Zhao Changyan came out yawning, looking utterly unfazed.

“Court Attendant Gong, what’s wrong?”

“The divine abode—it’s gone!” Gong Qiongxian said.

“When the goddess departs, her abode naturally disappears,” Zhao Changyan replied.

Gong Qiongxian blinked. “…You’re not surprised?”

“The goddess has left once before.”

Gradually, Gong Qiongxian calmed down. “The goddess mentioned that this time she’d be gone longer, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” Zhao Changyan said. “Court Attendant Gong remembered correctly—she did say that.”

Gong Qiongxian thought for a moment and said, “Then we should return to Xingwang Prefecture and report back to His Majesty. We must hurry and be back here before the goddess returns—only by personally welcoming her can I show my devotion.”

*

At the entrance of the village—

The lights of the small supermarket on the first floor of the three-story house flicked back on.

Zhou Li yawned, torn between finishing her purchase records and taking a shower before bed.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

She looked outside—it was Mu Kun again.

Zhou Li opened the door. “Auntie Mu, it’s late. You’re still awake?”

“We ran out of insecticide at home. I came to buy another bottle…” Mu Kun trailed off mid-sentence, staring in shock at the half-empty store. “Wait—what happened? Why does your supermarket look like it’s been cleaned out?”

Zhou Li gave an awkward smile. “It’s not cleaned out! There’s still plenty left—oh, but we’re out of insecticide.”

Ever since the refugees had learned that malaria came from parasites, they had wiped out all her stock of insecticide and mosquito coils.

If electric mosquito repellents had worked here, those would have sold out too.

Mu Kun’s expression was hard to describe.

“It wasn’t this empty before, was it? Didn’t you just restock recently?”

“Ah—yeah, everything’s still in the warehouse. Haven’t had time to organize it yet.”

Thankfully, Mu Kun didn’t insist on checking the warehouse herself.

Since there was no insecticide left, she bought an electric mosquito vaporizer instead.

After sending Mu Kun off, Zhou Li hurried to lock up and turn off the lights, not wanting any other regulars to drop by and notice something strange.

The system helped her tally inventory and sales.

Her stock was, unsurprisingly, nearly gone.

Only a few unsold, low-demand items were left in the warehouse. She’d have to pull some of those out tomorrow to refill the shelves—otherwise, it’d look like she’d been looted.

Of course, a depleted inventory meant excellent sales.

This round had brought in over 280,000 yuan in revenue. The bulk of it came from the three major distributors, with daily purchases from the refugees making up the rest, and about 70,000 yuan from Gong Qiongxian and her group.

Her gross profit margin was around 35%, giving her roughly 98,000 yuan in profit.

After subtracting utilities and labor costs, the net income was still impressive.

Still, for an interplanetary trade business, that figure was modest.

Zhou Li had the system calculate her next order volume and was about to contact the manufacturers when she remembered something.

“What’s the second plane like?” she asked.

The system replied, “A world where bulk goods are in high demand.”

Zhou Li: “…”

That explained nothing.

The system continued, “Its survival index is high.”

“Survival? You mean it’s a world on the brink of collapse?”

Instantly, Zhou Li pictured post-apocalyptic scenes—zombie sieges, natural disasters, chaos everywhere.

Whatever kind of survival it was, people there would still need food, water, and daily supplies.

And that was exactly what her supermarket specialized in.

So she could stick to her usual purchasing plan—just with larger quantities this time.

The only problem was her warehouse—it was still too small.

Thinking of that, Zhou Li texted her mother: “Mom, do we have any extra land I could… build on illegally?”

Zhou Hao: ?

Zhou Li sent a meme. “Just kidding, being abstract. Don’t mind me.”

After all, she was destined to be a servant of the people—she couldn’t actually have such low moral standards.

Zhou Hao: …

[Author’s Note]

Zhou Hao: “Abstract? I’ll abstract you.”

Zhou Li: [pleading emoji][pleading emoji][pleading emoji]

☢️☢️☢️