Ch 133: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

When Lu Yao went to the office for snacks, she also grabbed a few small plastic stools and set them up in the middle of the empty room. She placed the snack tray and water glasses on top of the stools.

Hearing the woman’s comment about the potato wedges, her colleague raised his pack of cheese wafers. “These are great too—so crispy and flavorful.”

When Lu Yao had initially left the room, the two staff members found it a bit odd. But when she quickly returned with food and water in hand, they naturally assumed she had bought the items from a nearby shop on the street.

“Ghost Street hasn’t seen such a sweet and earnest new shopkeeper in a long time.”

The thought crossed their minds, but it was tinged with a sense of foreboding. They knew that once this shop officially opened, her sincerity and enthusiasm would likely be crushed by the harsh realities of this place.

While they felt a faint heaviness in their hearts, they were mostly numb to it.

Anyone who came to Ghost Street was destined to become a fish on the chopping block, at the mercy of others.

After her earlier misstep in conversation, Lu Yao became more cautious and skillfully avoided asking questions. Instead, she acted like a simple, good-natured host, smiling shyly. “The shop isn’t ready yet—I hope you won’t mind the lack of proper hospitality.”

The two staff members, engrossed in the novelty of the snacks, didn’t think much of her comment. Used to the dull food from their office canteen, they were too preoccupied enjoying the fresh flavors to dwell on it.

After finishing his wafers and half a glass of water, the man handed the package over again.

This time, Lu Yao didn’t refuse. She accepted it and immediately opened the box.

The two staff members didn’t stop her.

Inside the box were a full map of Ghost Street, a Golden Guide to Opening a Store, a communicator about the size of a Bluetooth earpiece, and a large jar of brightly colored candy.

Setting the other items aside, Lu Yao unscrewed the lid of the candy jar first.

Inside were two types of candies:

• The first type resembled small spheres covered in short, twisted tentacles and dotted with eyes.
• The second type took the form of tiny ghost-like figures, similar to white mushrooms, with round eyes brimming with tears.

The first type looked like the pattern on the back of the clue slip, though these candies had a more defined shape and a range of vibrant colors. Despite their eerie design, their small size gave them a strangely endearing charm, and looking at them didn’t cause the nausea or dizziness she had felt with the clue slip.

The second type of candy was purely adorable—mushroom-like, with rounded eyes that seemed on the verge of tears, evoking an overwhelming urge to protect them.

Lucky Candy—the name certainly sounded auspicious.

But Lu Yao couldn’t shake the feeling that it hinted at something hidden.

She noticed the two staff members casting furtive glances at her and decided against asking further questions.

Their purpose seemed purely to deliver the package. After she accepted it, they stood up, ready to leave.

Before leaving, however, the woman couldn’t resist asking one last question: “I saw on your application that your store will regularly host ‘themed DIY’ activities. What kinds of themes are you planning?”

Having dismissed her suspicions about their identities, Lu Yao assumed this was part of their job and felt no need to hide the details. In fact, she answered earnestly, even hoping to promote her shop. “The DIY activities will focus on a variety of hands-on experiences, like making homemade cookies, knitting plush toys, crafting custom perfumes, or molding clay figurines. We’ll tailor the activities to the seasons and weather.”

Two days ago, Lu Yao had done a deep self-assessment and was surprised to find that her accumulated knowledge and abilities were most efficiently applied to DIY projects.

As long as she had the right materials, her skills and knowledge automatically aligned to create objects tailored to her needs.

The activities she mentioned to the staff were designed to cater to general public interests—engaging, moderately challenging, and offering creative freedom. It seemed like a safe choice.

In truth, however, the scope of her DIY skills extended far beyond public workshops. Whether it was crafting furniture, equipment, and goods for the shop or designing large-scale weapons and containment tools for combating unknown enemies, all fell within her DIY capabilities. This was the real reason she had chosen to open this store.

She felt fortunate that, during her earlier walk through Ghost Street, the surrounding shops leaned heavily toward lifestyle and entertainment—mostly food, drinks, and leisure activities. While each was bustling with customers and immensely popular, none were similar to her DIY workshop.

It was rare to secure such a prime location in a high-traffic area with no direct competitors.

Lu Yao’s entrepreneurial instincts, etched into her DNA, couldn’t help but stir with excitement.

The woman’s light brown eyes lit up with interest. “That sounds very fun. When will you officially open?”

Lu Yao thought for a moment. “After arranging the interior, cleaning, and preparing for the opening activities, it’ll probably take at least three days.”

Originally, Lu Yao had planned to hire new staff as soon as the shop opened. However, this world seemed strange, with hiring requiring formal applications. She decided to observe the situation first.

If business turned out to be booming after the opening, she would consider hiring.

The woman nodded. “If you encounter any issues in the future, feel free to call the North District Management Office. We’ll send someone to handle it.”

As she spoke, she pulled a black card from her pocket and handed it to Lu Yao.

The pure black card had a thin gold border, with the words “North District Management Office Cleanup Team” written on the front, along with a string of numbers, presumably a phone number.

Lu Yao flipped the card over. The back was embossed with a faint torch-shaped pattern.

The woman’s colleague, who had already walked to the door, stood waiting. Seeing Lu Yao’s slightly puzzled expression, he added, “According to Rule 8, you can call the church security office for uncontrollable dangers. However, their resources are always stretched thin because they handle so many cases. If it’s not an emergency, you can call our cleanup team first.”

Lu Yao, adopting a flattered expression, nodded repeatedly. “Thank you very much.”

The two left before 11 PM. Although Ghost Street didn’t officially close for another hour, the streets were already deserted, and the raucous music had inexplicably fallen silent.

Only the neon signs of the shops lining the street continued to flicker stubbornly, as if shouting, “Don’t leave! Let’s keep the party going!”—but no one responded to the call.

Directly across from Lu Yao’s shop was a bar called “The Abyss.” One entire wall facing the street was made of transparent glass, including the door.

Earlier in the evening, when Lu Yao had gone out, the bar was bustling with shadows of people, the glow of red and green lights, and a lively atmosphere.

Now it was empty, save for a bartender wearing an octopus headpiece, wiping glasses behind the counter.

The octopus tentacles on the headpiece were disturbingly lifelike. As the bartender tilted his head slightly to inspect the glass under the light, the tentacles on his head moved—subtly but distinctly.

Lu Yao’s vision was sharp—sharper than usual these days. Her senses had been growing increasingly acute. She couldn’t help but stare at the octopus head across the street. The smooth, almost luminous skin and limp, curling tentacles seemed unnervingly real. She even thought she could faintly hear the wet sound of tentacles rubbing against flesh as they moved, emitting a faint “squelch, squelch.”

It seemed alive.

The bartender appeared to sense something and slowly turned his octopus-covered head. The eyes embedded in the tentacles shifted, aligning with Lu Yao’s gaze.

“There are no fish markets on Ghost Street.”

Just as their eyes were about to meet, this rule from earlier burst into Lu Yao’s mind. She quickly lowered her gaze, her heart pounding violently.

Thump—thump—thump.

A chill ran down her spine, goosebumps rising on her arms.

Lu Yao had encountered creatures far more terrifying than this apparent octopus-man and had always been able to handle them with composure—because those creatures were inherently monsters.

But this was different. What she had seen at first glance was clearly a person. In the next instant, she felt an indescribable sense of someone transforming into a monster without realizing it.

She couldn’t stop her mind from drawing connections, the thought filling her with dread.

The moment of shock lasted only briefly before Lu Yao quickly composed herself. She calmly placed her hand on the door handle, as if preparing to close up for the night, while casually glancing across at the bar opposite.

After all, the two stores faced each other. Keeping her head lowered the whole time would seem too deliberate.

This street wasn’t normal.

She had already felt it deeply.

The bartender had stepped out from behind the bar at some point and now stood behind the glass, his tall figure casting a long shadow behind him.

He crossed his arms and looked straight at Lu Yao.

Avoiding the octopus on his head, Lu Yao met his gaze for just a second. She feigned an awkward hesitation, then slightly curled her lips into a polite smile, nodding briefly in greeting. Without hurrying, she closed the shop door.

…

11:26 PM, Ghost Street North District Management Office, Second-Floor Office

Liu Jing and Chen Huisheng returned from their fieldwork, bringing late-night snacks for their colleagues in the office.

These two were the staff members who had delivered the starter kit to Lu Yao’s shop.

Seated across from Chen Huisheng’s desk was a man wearing gold-rimmed glasses named Fang Cong. The other colleagues had already clocked out; he had stayed late specifically to wait for them.

Taking the sour soup wontons and teppanyaki handed to him, Fang Cong didn’t even need to open the lids to catch the enticing aroma.

When he did, the scent of the food mixed with the rising steam, making it hard not to salivate.

Feeling quite hungry, he tore open the disposable utensils and began eating.

However, Ghost Street food often didn’t taste as good as it smelled—it was mostly about presentation.

After just a few bites, Fang Cong lost interest and set down his chopsticks. Still unsatisfied, he reached for the teppanyaki, only to find it equally bland.

Grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth, he asked casually, “So, how was it?”

Liu Jing pulled up a chair and sat down beside Chen Huisheng. “The new shopkeeper seemed a bit… well, innocent.”

Out of a rare sense of goodwill toward the shopkeeper, Liu Jing carefully chose her words, using an unusually gentle tone.

Chen Huisheng briefly recounted their visit to Lu Yao’s shop.

Fang Cong showed no particular reaction.

He’d seen shopkeepers like this before—some were naturally thick-skinned and fearless, while others were simply naïve, unable to sense the danger around them.

It didn’t matter which type they were. Once they arrived on Ghost Street, they all quickly transformed.

The result was always the same.

The three exchanged a few more words before shutting down their computers and turning off the lights, preparing to clock out for the night.

The employee dormitory was located in the same building as the office, with the first through sixth floors used as office spaces and the seventh through tenth floors reserved for staff housing.

Chen Huisheng and Fang Cong lived on the seventh floor, while Liu Jing’s room was on the eighth.

When the elevator doors opened on the seventh floor, Chen Huisheng and Fang Cong prepared to step out.

Liu Jing reached into her pocket and tossed two bags of potato wedges at them. “Grabbed these from Lu Yao’s shop on my way out. Was planning to eat them all by myself.”

Chen Huisheng caught his without saying a word.

Since leaving Lu Yao’s shop, they had bought various late-night snacks from roadside stalls—grilled skewers, pan-fried dumplings, mini rice noodle pots—but none of it, no matter how fresh or hot, compared in flavor or texture to the snacks they’d eaten at her shop.

They even searched the nearby supermarkets, but none carried the type of snacks Lu Yao had served them.

Fang Cong frowned, lifting his hand to toss the bag back to Liu Jing.

He didn’t like snacks.

The food on Ghost Street wasn’t good either.

It wasn’t just the food—everything on this street was all surface and no substance, hollow at its core.

Yet humans could only scrape by in such a world, crawling at its feet like pigs and dogs.

Liu Jing remarked, “This one’s different. You’ll understand once you try it. I have to ask her where she bought it next time we stop by.”

Chen Huisheng nodded in agreement. “It really is different.”

Fang Cong remained indifferent.

At this late hour, no other colleagues were likely to leave their dorms, so it was just the three of them by the elevator.

Liu Jing stuck her foot in the elevator door to hold it open. “By the way, Lu Yao’s shop might open in three days. How about we go support her?”

Fang Cong frowned at Liu Jing’s attitude toward the new shopkeeper, finding it overly familiar. Annoyed, he retorted, “As a street administrator, please remember your position at all times.”

With that, he turned and walked away.

Liu Jing’s expression darkened. Staring at Fang Cong’s retreating figure, she muttered under her breath, “Old-fashioned stiff.”

Chen Huisheng remained stoic, having grown accustomed to these spats.

He said, “Fang Cong didn’t used to be like this. He’s just seen too much and doesn’t want you to get hurt again.”

Liu Jing didn’t appreciate his words. “Who hasn’t gone through stuff here? We’re all colleagues, aren’t we? I just like the new shopkeeper at No. 13, and I want to look out for her. I refuse to become numb like him.”

Chen Huisheng fell silent, unable to argue further.

…

Lu Yao locked the shop door but didn’t return to the shopping street. Instead, she sat under the light, flipping through the Ghost Street map and the shop’s guidebook she hadn’t yet had time to read.

The gray-blue map unfolded, revealing a tangle of intricate lines crisscrossing thin, waterproof paper—like veins intertwined in a chaotic mess.

She studied the map for a long while, slowly piecing together the layout and routes.

The exact location of Ghost Street remained unclear, but its scope was vast.

Rather than a street, it was more akin to a city.

The street was divided into four districts—East, South, West, and North—and a central hub.

Although she had wandered for nearly two hours earlier, she’d remained in the North District and hadn’t even glimpsed the edge of the central hub.

Trying to locate the intangible Dream Fulfilling System in such a massive expanse felt as hopeless as finding a needle in a haystack.

But then, a thought struck her: instead of searching for the system, she could make it come to her.

The Dream Fulfilling System could connect to any world’s network to gather vast amounts of data and information.

If it realized she was in this world, it would undoubtedly find a way to contact her.

Lu Yao recalled her earlier stroll. Oddly, she hadn’t come across any internet cafés.

The pedestrians she saw were accustomed to paying in cash—she hadn’t seen anyone use mobile payment.

Could it be that this world’s network wasn’t well-developed?

Yet her residency application had been swiftly processed and acknowledged by the management office.

Perhaps the information systems here were tightly controlled, used only by certain people, leaving the general populace with limited access.

If that were the case, it would explain how the system might have been restricted.

With the most efficient option seemingly unavailable, she had to consider other approaches.

Ultimately, it came back to the starting point: she needed to spread the word.

The fastest way to do that was to make her shop famous.

Once the shop built a reputation, word of mouth would follow. One person would tell ten, ten would tell a hundred, and eventually, the system would catch wind of “Lu Yao has arrived at Ghost Street.”

Setting the map aside, Lu Yao opened the shop guidebook next.

The first three pages reiterated the rules, written in an official tone with little useful information.

Turning to the fourth page, her eyes froze, and she slowly straightened in her seat.

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