Ch 53: My Multiverse Supermarket

Once Feng Zhang had satisfied his curiosity and prepared to return to capital, Qiao Siniang, Dou Dalang, and the other suppliers finally received clearance to pick up their orders from the supermarket.

Even so, they didn’t dare distribute their goods to the various counties. They feared meeting Feng Zhang on the road—who might seize everything for himself.

At least within the Immortal Village, the Goddess’s divine power kept him restrained. No one dared act rashly.

After Zhou Li handed over all the goods listed in their orders, she prepared to return to her modern home dimension.

When Gong Qiongxian learned this, she tried to persuade her to stay. “Little Boss, could you not remain in the mortal world a few more days? The people nearby have heard of your presence and are hurrying here to pay their respects. If they can’t see you, they’ll be terribly disappointed.”

“I can’t stay here forever,” Zhou Li replied.

But leaving without any promise of return didn’t sit right with her either.

After a moment’s thought, she said, “Very well. From now on, I’ll remain here for seven days each month—from the first to the seventh. Anyone who needs to pick up goods or make purchases can come during those days.”

Zhao Changyan sighed, her tone a mix of regret and melancholy. “The Goddess’s stays in the mortal world grow shorter and shorter.”

Zhou Li said nothing.

Who told her interplanetary trade was booming so quickly?

The only reason she could hop between worlds so frequently in such short intervals was because she had successfully expanded her “interplanetary trade” market.

To provide her system with enough energy for each dimensional leap, she had to assign schedules to each world.

For pre-industrial worlds like this one, where travel was slow and customers had to journey from far away, she stayed longer.

In contrast, in the interstellar world—where transportation was easy and customers were abundant—she made shorter, more frequent visits.

The rest of her time was reserved for restocking in her home dimension, and for exploring potential new ones.

Zhou Li muttered to the system, “At our current output, this little supermarket can only handle trade with three worlds at most.”

Each world got seven days, and the remaining time went to resupply.

The system suddenly asked, “You’ve met the conditions to unlock a third world. Would you like to go?”

“What’s that world like?”

“It’s a very special one,” the system said cryptically.

Zhou Li frowned. “Xiao Wan, don’t be so vague!”

“Fine. The third world is what you humans call an ‘infinite world.’ Because time and space there are disrupted by another form of energy, your sense of both will become unstable. Also, that world contains horror and supernatural elements—those who scare easily may find it overwhelming.”

“Do we have to go?” she asked.

“You can refuse,” the system replied. “But if you don’t open new worlds, the energy gained from interplanetary trade will gradually dwindle.”

Zhou Li refused to dwell on it. She tossed the problem back. “Can’t you just upgrade already? Use some kind of spatial-folding storage tech to expand the supermarket warehouse?”

Ever since visiting Mia Star and witnessing their advanced technology, she’d wanted to ask that question.

From a scientific standpoint, dimensional travel was far harder than folded-space storage.

If the system could jump across worlds, surely it could make more space in her warehouse.

Yet it kept insisting on sending her through repeated dimensional hops rather than providing that tech—something that puzzled her.

The system went quiet for a while. Then it finally said, “The system can provide such technology—but it consumes an enormous amount of energy. The current trade-generated energy is insufficient.”

Zhou Li was stunned. She hadn’t expected that answer.

The system continued, “Besides, long-term residence in one world brings complications. It can cause negative effects—mental strain, disorientation. Some previous operators stayed too long across multiple worlds and eventually suffered cognitive breakdowns. Others became emotionally attached to natives, even unbinding from the system to remain in that world. Some went further—using the supermarket and its resources to favor loved ones, even teaming up with others to exploit the system.”

After a moment of thought, Zhou Li understood the concern.

If she had spatial-folding tech, she could stock massive amounts of supplies at once and stay in a world for years. Translated on hololonovels.

The longer she stayed, the deeper her attachment to that world could grow.

Frequent contact bred familiarity, and familiarity bred affection.

Humans were emotional creatures. Prolonged interaction could easily turn into sentiment.

And an operator bonded to a system—with the ability to transport a whole supermarket between worlds—was the ultimate prize to any native civilization.

A rational one might keep control. But a love-struck fool would use every resource available to benefit their beloved.

At best, they would recklessly funnel goods from their home world. At worst, they might use the system itself to interfere with that world’s progress—something far beyond the acceptable level of influence normal trade already caused.

Even more dangerously, an operator might live decades across worlds. After experiencing dozens of timelines, a twenty-year-old face might hide a soul aged one hundred and eighty years.

When such a person returned home, with lifetimes of memories layered atop one another, cognitive collapse was almost guaranteed.

“Wait,” Zhou Li said. “Wouldn’t constant world-hopping cause even worse confusion and mental strain?”

“When you’re leaping between worlds nonstop,” the system asked, “do you have the time or energy to care about anything outside your work?”

“…” Zhou Li fell silent.

She couldn’t argue.

Each time she returned home, her only thought was how to restock without drawing attention.

And once she arrived in another world, all she thought about was balancing inventory and demand to reduce how often she had to come back.

As for getting attached to locals? That was never part of her plan.

Just like Article 1 of the Interplanetary Trade Regulations said—
She was here to do business, not meddle in local affairs.

“So those rules were written from real cases,” Zhou Li mused.

“Exactly,” the system replied.

“Then why didn’t you give me this orientation at the start?” she complained.

“With years of experience binding to humans,” said the system, “it’s clear you’re not the romantic type. Frankly, I’m less worried about you falling in love with a native and more worried you’ll try to stay and take their civil-service exam.”

“…I haven’t even passed the one in my own world,” Zhou Li retorted. “Why would I be foolish enough to take one in another?”

“What if you fail yours and decide to try the one elsewhere?”

“…You know, that’s actually an idea,” Zhou Li said thoughtfully.

“Give it up,” the system deadpanned. “Different worlds, different laws—you’d just have to start all over again. You’ll end up proving that old saying true: Ten years chasing the exam, and you’re still a first-year when you return.”

Zhou Li: “…”

She dropped the topic.

“So,” she asked, “how much energy do I need to unlock spatial-folding storage?”

“One more long-term, stable, large-scale trade.”

“How large?”

“Comparable to the order Gong Qiongxian placed on behalf of Dayue.”

Zhou Li winced. That was a multimillion-level deal.

“Wait,” she said, “shouldn’t that deal already provide enough energy?”

“The trade isn’t finalized,” said the system. “So the energy hasn’t been generated yet.”

Zhou Li realized the issue.

Past large orders had produced energy immediately because deposits were paid upfront—like her contract with the City Hall after they transferred Orka Energy Batteries.

But though Gong Qiongxian had become a distributor, she hadn’t paid any deposit or submitted an official order.

With that in mind, Zhou Li turned back before leaving. “Have you decided what quantity of goods you want yet?” she asked.

Gong Qiongxian hesitated.

Though she’d claimed her purchases were for disaster relief, the funds in her hands were imperial. She couldn’t spend them arbitrarily.

Still, after some thought, she decided to use a little of her discretion.

“I’d like to reserve ten thousand shi of grain and one thousand packs of salt.”

Zhou Li calculated. “One shi of grain is about 118 jin—so ten thousand shi equals 1.18 million jin, or roughly 590 tons.”

That much grain would surely draw attention from the authorities.

“Does it have to be rice?” she asked.

“Wheat or flour will do as well,” Gong said.

Zhao Changyan’s eyes lit up. “Little Boss, are there any grains better than rice or wheat?”

Zhou Li smiled, impressed by her quick thinking. “Not better—just more versatile. These crops yield high harvests, grow well in many climates, can be dried and ground into powder for noodles or feed, or even pressed for oil.”

Gong’s eyes brightened. “Then may the Goddess grant us the seeds!”

“You’ve eaten them before,” Zhou Li said.

Zhao guessed instantly. “Could it be… sweet potatoes?”

“And corn and potatoes,” Zhou Li confirmed.

“Of course!” Zhao had already suspected as much from her description.

The supermarket had been selling sweet potatoes, potatoes, and corn for some time, but since they were stocked in the produce section, most people treated them as vegetables.

Eventually, some refugees discovered that boiled sweet potatoes were filling—one could half-sate hunger, two could last half a day with water.

One man even forgot a sweet potato in a corner, only to find it sprouting later.

When Zhao learned of it, she realized these could be planted—but not knowing how, she simply buried them whole and observed.

Now that Zhou Li brought it up, she quickly asked about proper planting methods.

Zhou Li wasn’t a farmer, but she’d seen enough to explain.

“For sweet potatoes and potatoes, cut the sprouting eyes into sections and plant them in ridged soil at regular intervals. After three or four months, you can harvest them.

“As for corn, so long as the kernels aren’t damaged, they’ll sprout when sown and grow until they bear ears.”

Having handled government affairs for years, Gong immediately saw the potential.

“I’ll revise my order, then,” she said excitedly. “One thousand shi of sweet potatoes, one thousand of potatoes, one thousand of corn, five thousand of rice, and one thousand packs of salt.”

Zhou Li asked, “You’ll need to pay a 30% deposit. It’ll be deducted directly from your membership account. Confirm?”

“Confirm!”

“Deal,” Zhou Li said.

Then she turned to the system. “Now is the energy sufficient?”

“It is,” the system said, “but maintaining spatial-folding storage consumes immense energy. To prevent depletion that could leave the supermarket unable to jump in emergencies, I recommend saving up more first.”

Zhou Li sighed.

So that was why the system kept dodging—
the technology really did guzzle energy.

Which meant she had no choice but to explore that third world.

Still, before heading there, she needed to return to her home world first—
and then visit the interstellar one to update the schedule.

☢️☢️☢️