Dimensional Supermarket - Chapter 103

Chen Shu says, “Patriotic education is secondary. That’s not something you can instill overnight. But the strict discipline of the military must be enforced. If the common people fear soldiers and see them as monsters, then when war comes, they’ll stay silent even if they know something. You’re a general. You’ve read military texts. You should understand how serious it is to miss the right moment in battle.” Chen Shu looks at Chen Yan. “If you don’t win over the people’s hearts, others will.”

Then she turns to Chen Hou. “Like you. Your decrees don’t leave Linzi, but if the people across the land recognize you as their ruler, then even without sending troops to take the cities, the people themselves can seize them for you.”

Chen Hou’s eyes widen. “They… seize the cities for me?”

Chen Shu replies, “Of course. Don’t underestimate the common people. If they unite behind a goal, forget the nobles—even the king can be overthrown. It’s just that they don’t realize it yet.”

The common people have no weapons, no leader, and no ideological guidance.

Chen Shu continues, “It’s like storming a city. If the people believe in you and are willing to follow you, they will find a way to open the gates. If your troops are stopped outside the city, they can help spread your messages. At that point, everyone inside becomes your insider. What battle can’t you win? What city can’t you reclaim?”

Chen Hou is dumbfounded. It’s the first time he’s heard words like this. Chen Shu’s speech is like a sudden wake-up call, snapping him into clarity.

He has never felt so clear-headed.

All this time, he’s been chasing the support of nobles and aristocrats, and has never even considered the commoners.

But the truth is, the people are impoverished and powerless. All they can do is farm and toil. They have no wisdom, no family legacy.

Yet now, Chen Shu’s words open a door in his mind—show him a whole new world.

Nobles and aristocrats coexist, but are naturally at odds.

He wants to uphold royal authority. They want to preserve their own. Without an external invasion, they will never truly unite. Their support is hard to earn, and even if gained, no one can say when they might turn on him.

But the common people—they’re easy to win over.

Though Chen Hou has never lived among them, he knows what they want: enough food each day, some surplus at home, a peaceful life where they don’t have to sell their children, a decent life without soldiers breaking into their homes.

“Miss Chen, I entrust the army to you!” Chen Hou stands up and bows to Chen Shu. “Brother Yan will go with you.”

Chen Shu waves her hand dismissively. “I’m going out. I’ll take a walk.”

Then, without even glancing back at Chen Hou or Chen Yan, she lifts the tent flap and walks out.

She looks over the thousand acres of fertile land before her, looks at the pale and thin villagers still laboring in the fields, and slams her fist into the tree beside her.

When she leaves, the soldiers notice the relatively sturdy tree has split from where she struck it, now bent to one side.

Someone gulps.

If that fist had hit a human skull—it would’ve cracked it open.

Chen Shu doesn’t return to the tent to rest. She’s angry—so angry. She’s been to countless worlds, but has never felt this furious.

Maybe it’s because she’s been a soldier for so many years and simply can’t stand to see soldiers bullying civilians. Or maybe it’s the look on that old woman’s face—it hits the softest part of her heart.

Chen Shu doesn’t walk far. Instead, she crawls into Ye Zhou’s tent and calls out as soon as she enters, “Boss, I haven’t spent this month’s salary yet, right? Advance next month’s too.”

Ye Zhou looks at her. “What do you want to buy? Food?”

Chen Shu nods. “I’m not feeling right. I want to splurge a little. I’ll feel better once I’ve spent it.” She looks Ye Zhou in the eyes. “Boss, I’m just being willful this time.”

Ye Zhou doesn’t try to talk her out of it. “What do you want? I brought a lot this time.”

Chen Shu says, “Rice, sweet potatoes, potatoes. Anything cheap and in bulk.”

Ye Zhou says, “Alright, let’s find an open spot and I’ll take it out.”

He looks at Chen Shu, as if seeing a younger version of himself. But he knows Chen Shu has gone through more than he has. She wouldn’t act out of blind emotion; it must touch on something deep in her own experience.

Since she isn’t being irrational, he has no reason to object.

And besides, there are no noble clans in a village like this. Even if they give food away, there’s no risk of it being confiscated.

“You’ve already put in the money—if I, as your boss, don’t pitch in, it wouldn’t be right.” Ye Zhou says, “Alright, I’ll cover half.”

Zou Ming walks into the tent just then and adds, “I’ll contribute one month’s salary too.”

Sarah, who comes in with him, immediately says, “Me too!”

Cao’er, who’s passing by, leans in and asks, “What’s going on?”

Sarah says, “I don’t know. But it’s right to contribute.”

Cao’er just says, “Oh. Then I will too.”

Before long, all the supermarket employees are offering up their wages, even though many of them don’t know what for.

Ye Zhou has to explain to them.

Originally, Ye Zhou thinks these employees—who’ve all suffered so much—would be reluctant to donate their hard-earned wages. After all, people who’ve known poverty tend to cherish what they have more. It’s one thing to work hard, but quite another to give up their earnings.

To his surprise, the employees are extremely generous.

Especially Cao’er Niang: “Lord Immortal, I’ll donate half a year’s salary! Just leave me enough to eat.”

Wu Yan adds, “Lord Immortal, my family will give half a year’s worth too.”

Zhou Wen: “Lord Immortal, my family will also contribute half a year.”

Feng Yao: “I’ll give three months. I want to save the rest to share with my friends.”

Cao’er Niang smiles. “Giving is good! It’s good to feed people!”

How she wishes someone had helped her like this when she was fleeing famine.

But no one had.

Now that she can help others, it’s like meeting her past self.

She met the Lord Immortal back then—and now she’s ready to be someone else’s savior.

Ye Zhou is a little surprised, then smiles at them. “No need to give that much. Let’s say half a month’s salary each. That’ll be plenty.”

There are many supermarket employees. Half a month’s wages from all of them adds up to tens of thousands of yuan. That can buy a massive amount of rice, potatoes, sweet potatoes, and cornmeal—enough to feed this village for a whole year.

And they can keep some potatoes and sweet potatoes to plant next season. The land here is good. Life ahead won’t be too difficult.

Ye Zhou says, “Chen Shu, I’ll leave the grain distribution to you.”

This time, Ye Zhou isn’t worried about the villagers getting greedy from the handouts—after all, they’re only staying here one night.

After tonight, they won’t have any more dealings with the village.

So if they want to do good, they can just do it. No need to overthink.

Whether the villagers feel grateful or not, whether they become greedy or not—none of it matters.

Ye Zhou looks at Chen Shu.

Chen Shu nods. “Alright.”

Zhaojia Village is a remote, secluded village. There are no outsiders. They only intermarry with a few neighboring villages. All they know is farming. They have no other skills to survive.

So the village is always quiet. The biggest event might be a wedding.

But these days, even weddings are simple—just a family meal, and that’s it.

So when the village chief goes door-to-door saying something big has happened, the villagers all think: We have to hand over grain again?

Before he can even explain, someone already bursts into tears. A man sobs like a child. “Village chief, I can’t pay anymore, I really can’t. If I give any more, my whole family might as well find a rock to smash our heads! Come in and look for yourself—there’s nothing left in the grain jar, nothing!”

The village chief looks at the man’s tear-streaked face but doesn’t share in his sorrow. Instead, he grins excitedly: “It’s the nobles! The nobles camped right by our village—they said they’re giving us food! For free! No money! No conscription! Nothing at all! There’s rice!” the village chief shouts. “There’s rice!”

The man is stunned. His wife, hiding behind him, whispers, “Village chief… have you gone mad?”

Why would nobles give grain to lowly peasants?

The village chief glares at her. “You’re the one who’s mad! If you want food, go get it.”

He points to a clearing. By now, the sky is almost dark. The villagers squint into the gloom.

They see people moving around on that open patch of land, with piles of something behind them—though they can’t make out what.

The chief doesn’t say more. He throws back one last line: “I’ve got other houses to visit. Go see for yourselves.”

Then he hurries off without a backward glance.

His old body hasn’t felt this strong in years.

As village chief, all he’s been able to do is watch household after household run out of food. His family has served as village chiefs for generations—his grandfather, his father—and every year they’ve lent out grain, knowing most of it would never be repaid.

But if they don’t lend it, what can they do—watch their neighbors starve?

He never goes to school and can’t read, can’t write, but he knows in his heart: as village chief, he’s responsible for these people. He can’t let them die of hunger.

Otherwise, what village would there be? What chief would he be?