Ch 47: My Multiverse Supermarket

This time, when Zhou Li returned to the modern plane, she not only restocked her inventory but also uploaded the mini program her senior had built.

Since the app was merely a cover, she handed it over to the system for management and didn’t bother to check on it again.

Meanwhile, renovations on her warehouse were in full swing, and she needed to supervise them.

Aside from reinforcing and replacing the roof, the warehouse also needed new walls. Fortunately, the project wasn’t large, and with enough laborers, it could be completed in a day.

By the evening, the renovations were finished, and the manufacturers delivered the bulk goods she had ordered.

Five or six workers unloaded carts for three full hours before the warehouse was completely filled.

The system prompted, “Would you like to perform the dimensional shift at midnight?”

“Not yet,” Zhou Li said. “Auntie Mu said she’s starting her breakfast business today—she’ll probably be up by three or four to prepare. I’ll wait until she drops off the breakfast before heading to the ancient plane.”

The secondhand kitchen equipment Zhou Li bought from Mu Kun’s friend arrived that same day.

After washing and disinfecting everything, she arranged the setup beside the checkout counter, giving the store a layout similar to convenience chains like FamilyMart or 7-Eleven.

…

Zhou Li locked the warehouse and headed home.

Mu Kun poked her head out of her shop and called, “Xiao Li, you haven’t closed up yet? Perfect timing—I brought you breakfast.”

“So early?” Zhou Li blinked in surprise.

“It’s not early,” Mu Kun said. “For things like sticky-rice chicken, you have to soak the rice in advance, then steam it for half an hour before it turns soft and flavorful. You have to prepare everything the night before.”

Zhou Li pointed at some buns sealed in plastic bags. “And those…?”

“Oh, just open the bags and reheat them in the warmer,” Mu Kun said. “Do it early, or people will notice they’re pre-made by tomorrow morning.”

Zhou Li frowned slightly. “I thought you made handmade buns. They’re pre-made?”

Mu Kun smirked like a crafty merchant. “Who’s got the time to knead dough these days? They’re good enough.”

Compared with those ready-made buns, Zhou Li thought, the sticky-rice chicken—soaked for hours—was practically a gourmet effort.

“As for the fried dough sticks, those have to be made fresh, so I’ll bring them later.”

“If you’re up early anyway,” Zhou Li said, “you can bring them over around five.”

“I just didn’t want to wake you up that early,” Mu Kun replied.

“It’s fine. Five o’clock is perfect.”

“Alright then,” Mu Kun said, “I’ll head back and start boiling tea eggs, making soy milk, frying dough sticks, and stir-frying rice noodles…”

Before it was time to travel, Zhou Li quickly showered and got a few more hours of sleep.

At five, Mu Kun brought over the breakfast—soy milk, tea eggs, and all.

Zhou Li put the pre-made buns into the warmer and steamed them.

While Mu Kun was busy at her shop and wouldn’t be dropping by anytime soon, Zhou Li seized the moment and told the system to begin the dimensional shift.

*

Dà Yuè Kingdom, on Yang Mountain Pass.

It had been half a month since the “goddess” had healed the sick and then vanished.

Everyone knew she had returned to Yongcheng, the dwelling place of immortals—where a single day in heaven equaled a year on earth. But as the days dragged on with no sign of her return, anxiety spread through the camp.

Fortunately, under the leadership of Gong Qiongxian and Zhao Changyan, the epidemic prevention work progressed smoothly, and the disease had not spread further among the villagers.

Before leaving, Gong Qiongxian had ordered that the many “divine artifacts” she had bought from the supermarket be sent back to Xingwang.

The Emperor of Dà Yuè and the other nobles received these “celestial goods”: clocks that could tell time without sunlight, bath gels and shampoos more fragrant than any herbal soap, and bedding with intricate, unheard-of patterns.

When the eunuch who delivered them reported what he had seen to the witch Fan Yuxian and the powerful eunuch Shao Chenshu, both were stunned.

Fan Yuxian was horrified.

So immortals really exist?

Then her act of pretending to be the Jade Emperor’s envoy would be exposed!

But wait—Zhao Changyan had once sought her out and publicly acknowledged her as such.

That must mean either the goddess at Qitian Ridge didn’t know Fan Yuxian was a fraud—or Zhao Changyan had merely borrowed her name to enhance her own authority.

Either way, Fan Yuxian would have to find a way to preserve her “divine envoy” persona.

Shao Chenshu, on the other hand, was far from fearful—he was ambitious.

If only one person could represent the imperial court in acquiring these “divine goods” from the Immortal’s dwelling, that person had to be him.

But such procurement required going there in person—and he couldn’t leave the emperor’s side without risking his position.

After much thought, he decided to send Gong Qiongxian in his place.

She was his protégé, easily controlled, and as a woman, no threat to his power.

Thus, in front of Emperor Feng Sheng, Shao Chenshu lavished praise upon her, and so it was decided—Gong Qiongxian would represent both the emperor and the court to visit the “Immortal’s dwelling.”

As for the epidemic she had mentioned, no one cared.

Feng Sheng issued only a brief decree giving her full authority to handle it.

Meanwhile, Fan Yuxian, unwilling to sit and wait for exposure, hatched her own plan. She proposed to travel to Qitian Ridge herself to “discuss the Dao” with her “divine friend” and seek a celestial medicine that could heal the emperor’s illness.

Two years earlier, the Zhou Dynasty had unified all lands north of the great river. Fearful of an invasion, Emperor Feng Sheng had grown sickly from constant anxiety and heavy drinking.

Ignoring his physicians’ advice, he had instead turned to sorcery and rituals to ward off misfortune.

Fan Yuxian was no true witch and knew nothing of divine arts, but she could tell the emperor’s end was near. This trip was her chance to escape—before she was blamed for his death.

And if he didn’t die soon, she could always shift the blame onto the “goddess.”

Prince Wei Feng Zhang, the emperor’s son, also asked to go “seek medicine for his father.”

Everyone knew the young prince simply wanted to travel for fun, but touched by what he saw as filial devotion, the emperor agreed.

Thus, Feng Zhang and Fan Yuxian set out with a grand entourage of five hundred guards, several physicians, and ten wagons of gold and jewels.

When they arrived at Yang Mountain Pass, they happened to encounter Qiao Siniang and her group—merchants returning from Guì yang Depot.

The prince noticed their small carts and had them stopped. “Where did you get these wagons?” he asked.

He himself owned one—a “divine artifact” Gong Qiongxian had sent him.

To outsiders, the carts looked ordinary, but to him, the axle structure and materials were extraordinary.

How were such delicate parts crafted? Why did the wheels turn so silently? How could such small wheels bear such weight without breaking?

He had already ordered his craftsmen to study and try to replicate them.

Yet now, here were commoners owning one—or several!

Qiao Siniang, who had barely survived bandits once before, hadn’t expected to run into royalty this time. And when it came to exploitation, nobles could be worse than bandits.

She answered honestly, “We bought them from the supermarket.”

“The supermarket?” Feng Zhang frowned.

Fan Yuxian quickly whispered, “Your Highness, that is the name of the Immortal’s dwelling.”

“Anyone can buy things from there?” he asked.

“Yes,” Qiao Siniang said. “The goddess even allows commoners to take the items outside.”

She phrased it carefully, hoping that invoking the goddess’s name would protect them from being robbed.

“What have you taken out?” Feng Zhang pressed.

She pulled out a pack of sanitary pads. “Cloths for a woman’s monthly cycle.”

Feng Zhang’s face contorted. “Put that away!”

Whether from disgust or disinterest, he waved them off. “Go.”

The merchants didn’t dare walk ahead of the procession, fearing they’d be followed, but soon realized the nobles weren’t after them—they were after the goddess.

They didn’t even need guides; eunuchs sent by Gong Qiongxian were already leading the way.

When they reached the Immortal’s Fortress, Zhao Changyan and Gong Qiongxian were stunned to learn that both Fan Yuxian and Prince Feng Zhang had come.

They went to pay respects to the prince.

Gong Qiongxian gave her tent to Feng Zhang, and Zhao Changyan yielded hers to Fan Yuxian.

“The miasma in the fortress has not fully cleared,” Gong Qiongxian said respectfully. “For the prince’s safety, please remain outside the camp. My tent has been arranged for you there.”

“Fine,” Feng Zhang said. He was cautious about his health and had no interest in entering the fortress. “Where is this supermarket?”

“At the mountain peak,” Gong Qiongxian said. “But the goddess has not yet returned, so Your Highness may not see her for now.”

“No matter,” Feng Zhang said. “Her dwelling won’t just disappear, will it?”

“It seems that the dwelling is part of her divine power,” Gong Qiongxian replied. “It vanishes when she departs.”

Feng Zhang scowled, displeased.

To distract him, Zhao Changyan produced a Rubik’s Cube and presented it.

“What’s this? A dice toy?” he asked curiously.

The Dà Yuè nobles used polyhedral dice called boqiong for their games of chance—some had twelve, sixteen, or even eighteen sides, each carved with symbols.

Though this cube had only six faces, each face contained nine smaller squares in six colors, vaguely reminiscent of the game pieces he knew.

“This is a divine puzzle,” Zhao Changyan said.

She avoided calling it a “magic cube,” since “magic” carried demonic connotations. A divine item couldn’t bear such a name.

She explained how it worked, and soon the prince was completely absorbed, his foul mood forgotten.

After leaving the tent, Gong Qiongxian whispered to Zhao Changyan, “That was clever of you. But where did this thing come from? I’ve never seen it before.”

“It was the only one in the supermarket,” Zhao Changyan said. “A villager bought it. I purchased it from them yesterday.”

Gong Qiongxian sighed. “I wonder when the goddess will return.”

Zhao Changyan felt the same—the absence had gone on unusually long.

That night, Zhao Changyan accompanied the imperial physicians to the mountaintop to check on the villagers still recovering from malaria, then set up a small tent nearby to rest.

Before dawn, she stirred awake.

She unzipped the tent flap and looked out.

The supermarket had returned.

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