Ch 43: My Multiverse Supermarket

With no third party present, Paul Bowman went straight to the point.

“Store owner, on behalf of City Hall, I’m extending a proposal of cooperation—we hope your supermarket can provide long-term material supplies to the government.”

Zhou Li asked, “Did the City Hall cafeteria shut down?”

Paul Bowman: …

He forced a laugh. “The store owner is quite humorous. The materials we buy will be distributed as relief supplies for the poor who are struggling to survive.”

The wealthy and powerful had no problem stockpiling enough resources to live comfortably for decades, but ordinary people weren’t so lucky.

Even with the Good Life Supermarket in operation, its limited capacity meant that only about one in six hundred residents could buy something. That wasn’t nearly enough to sustain the general population.

If Zhou Li were willing to supply City Hall directly, it would greatly reduce the government’s financial burden—they wouldn’t have to buy food at high prices from the grain merchants anymore.

“Every time we buy from the grain dealers,” Paul continued, “they act reluctant, worried their own reserves aren’t enough. If your supermarket supplies us instead, we’ll be solving one of their biggest problems for them.”

Zhou Li: …

She wasn’t fooled for a second. He was clearly taking jabs at the profiteering merchants who jacked up their prices.

“Cutting into someone’s profits is like killing their parents,” she said dryly. “If the grain merchants decide to come after me, what then?”

“Those merchants trying to deal with you would be like ants shaking a tree,” Paul replied confidently. “We believe you’re not afraid of them.”

Zhou Li: ?

Where did they get that idea?

Still, as long as she stayed inside her store, those grain barons really couldn’t touch her.

Paul tried again. “If they truly plan to move against you, why not strike first? Their power lies in their hoarded food—everyone depends on them. But if you can provide an endless supply, you’ll cut them off at the root. They’ll lose all leverage.”

Zhou Li squinted at him. “Do I look stupid to you?”

He was clearly trying to goad her into releasing more goods.

She wasn’t dumb. The supermarket’s output couldn’t meet such broad demand. She knew what City Hall really wanted—to act as the middleman, using her supplies to distribute across the districts.

That would make the Good Life Supermarket a tool in City Hall’s political struggle against the grain traders.

“Here’s a thought,” Zhou Li said. “If I don’t sell to City Hall, the grain merchants won’t target me. That means no trouble at all, right?”

Paul hesitated. She was not someone who could be manipulated easily.

“City Hall is willing to gift you five vending machines,” he said finally, “and we’ll recharge your Orka batteries five times a month for free.”

“In exchange for an endless supply of goods? That’s hardly a good deal for me.”

“No, no—these are gifts, a gesture of goodwill to show our sincerity. We’ll still pay separately for the goods we purchase.”

In truth, this was still advantageous to City Hall.

The five vending machines and the Orka charging service would cost an amount that, if converted through the supermarket’s system, could be worth fifty times that in points.

But that wasn’t how the math worked. Even if they could exchange for massive amounts of points, the supermarket’s purchase limits would still apply.

To bypass those restrictions, they’d need to offer something extra—like this deal.

Once the cooperation began, City Hall would be buying materials from her at a fraction of what they used to pay.

They’d save enough money to buy ten vending machines and pay for ten battery charges instead of five.

So in reality, City Hall was making a profit.

…

The trade was also profitable for Zhou Li.

First, the vending machines would still function in other worlds. Translated on Hololo novels. That would save her the time of restocking shelves manually and boost efficiency immensely.

Second, vending machines and Orka batteries cost Orka coins—and she didn’t have many. Each Orka converted into dozens of points, so buying them directly meant paying dozens of times the normal cost.

Finally, City Hall wanted the supplies for relief efforts, not resale. That meant a large, safe transaction with no risk of hoarding or black-market trading.

The only problem was that her current inventory wasn’t large enough to meet such demand.

After thinking it over, Zhou Li said, “First, swap the vending machines for Orka batteries. Second, I’ll supply City Hall only with limited categories of goods—and you must guarantee none of it will be resold.”

Seeing her soften, Paul knew half the battle was won.

He sighed theatrically. “Orka batteries are expensive. If you insist, we can only offer one. As for your concern about resale, I can assure you—it won’t happen.”

“Two batteries,” Zhou Li countered. “And three free charges a month.”

Paul’s earpiece flickered. He paused for a moment, then nodded. “Deal. All we need are enough food and water. Warm clothing and fuel for heating would be even better.”

Given the Orka shortage, coal and firewood were the only real substitutes.

Zhou Li thought about it. The southern provinces didn’t produce coal. She’d have to import it from the north—and she didn’t have the means or the patience for that.

“Food and water are fine. Clothing too. But coal isn’t part of my inventory.”

Paul nodded. “That’s more than enough.”

They agreed to sign the contract the next day.

After leaving, Paul immediately reported the results.

Back in his vehicle, a woman’s voice came from the darkness. “So City Hall isn’t planning to investigate the crashed transport ship anymore?”

Through the rearview mirror, Paul saw Katrine Neumann’s reflection.

He replied, “Of course City Hall will continue the investigation. But seizing the supermarket or its owner would be unwise.

“The store now supplies both City Hall and the orphanage. Given the transport ship’s capacity, her stock should run out soon—but she doesn’t seem worried, which means she might have another source.

“The report mentioned that the supermarket itself could be a spacecraft. If she can reach the space station—or even pass through a wormhole back to Blue Star—then she’s operating on an entirely different level.

“When I brought up coal, she didn’t refuse directly. She just said it wasn’t in her sales range. That means her supply doesn’t come from Mia Star—or the crashed transport ship.

“She and her supermarket might be Mia Star’s only hope. Stay embedded in the orphanage. Don’t act rashly.”

When he finished, there was no reply.

He turned around—Katrine was already gone.

*

The next day, Chen Yuhui came to sign the contract with Zhou Li.

She had City Hall’s authorization and opened an account in the supermarket under the orphanage’s name.

Since the Tzu Chi House was classified as an organization, it needed a business account, with Chen Yuhui as its legal representative.

Zhou Li said, “Only you can activate this account. If City Hall replaces you, the new director will have to reapply.”

Chen laughed. “So this means I’m less likely to be dismissed, huh?”

What a cold joke. Zhou Li gave her a polite, empty smile.

“When will the three hundred children move in?” Zhou Li asked.

Supplying the orphanage depended on there being actual children, not just numbers on paper.

“We’re finalizing the roster,” said Chen.

The worsening conditions had only increased the number of orphans. Every orphanage wanted to offload some of their burden, and they were practically fighting for the three hundred available spots.

Chen requested twenty of those for herself—she intended to retrieve children the former director had sent off to work as servants in wealthy homes.

Zhou Li suddenly asked, “I heard the orphanages used to have their own industries. What kind did yours have?”

Chen replied, “City Hall encouraged each one to be self-sufficient and granted them land. Ours ran a clothing factory, but when raw materials ran out, we had to shut it down.”

Disasters had ruined most crops. The science academy prioritized hydroponic farming for food, not fibers like cotton or hemp, which still required traditional cultivation.

Without those materials, the factory couldn’t operate.

Mia Star had no petroleum or coal, and therefore couldn’t produce synthetic fibers either.

Orka-based compounds could be refined into materials for “fish suits”—heat-insulated, cold-resistant, even spacesuit-grade clothing—but those materials were extremely expensive.

The orphanage couldn’t afford them, nor could it produce any.

Zhou Li thought, No wonder City Hall needs so many clothes.

A pity her supermarket was just a small one—otherwise, she could’ve become a raw materials supplier and traded across planes.

…

After the signing, Chen deposited 80,000 Orka (equivalent to 4 million points) into a dedicated account.

The funds could only be used to pay for the orphanage’s living supplies.

A day later, the secretary general of City Hall arrived with a contract signed by the mayor.

“The Orka batteries are ready,” he said. “When will you be installing the vending machines?”

Zhou Li thought grimly, Vending machines? I haven’t even found them yet!

As soon as he left, she turned to Sophia. “Doctor, could you help me out? Use 100,000 Orka to buy two secondhand vending machines.”

Sophia was playing with a pencil sharpener, looking like a forty-something mom dressing up dolls.

She refused flatly. “Can’t be done.”

Zhou Li turned to go find Lin Jianshan, but Sophia quickly set down the sharpener. “Wait—aren’t you going to negotiate?”

“You refused so quickly,” Zhou Li said, “it’s obvious there’s no room to bargain. Why waste time?”

“How would you know if you don’t try?”

“…Fine. What are your terms, Doctor?”

“I want to go upstairs and have a look. Let me go up, and I’ll buy you the vending machines.”

Zhou Li: ?

That was it? She’d expected something outrageous.

“Deal,” Zhou Li said instantly.

Sophia darted up the stairs in a blur.

Zhou Li, uneasy, told Lin Jianshan to watch the store, then followed her up.

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