Dimensional Supermarket - Chapter 3

After all, he is the boss. Ye Zhou never thinks of making things difficult for himself when decorating the room. Though it’s called a break room, it’s actually his office—just larger than a typical one. The room is divided into two sections: one for the office and the other for the rest area.

The office area is furnished with bookcases, a desk, and chairs, while the rest area has a microwave, lazy sofas, single beds, and a shower room that’s slightly better than the one in the security room.

Ye Zhou sits down at the computer desk, and the computer that had been off suddenly powers up.

 He moves the mouse slightly, and the screen lights up automatically.

There are a few lines of light gray text on a black background—dim:

“Supermarket employees: 2/10”
“Supermarket security: 0/8”
“Supermarket profit: 0”
“Supermarket points: 0”

At the bottom, there’s a row of red text, darker than the gray and bright red:
“Please hire enough staff to open the store as soon as possible.”

Underneath the red text are two smaller lines:

“Every 100 in revenue can be exchanged for 1 point. 100 points can be used for a single dimension jump.”

 “The cashier can automatically exchange currency.”

Ye Zhou stares in silence for a few seconds before muttering to the computer, “How am I supposed to open the store with nothing? And why does it say I have 2 employees? Did they agree to work for me, or are you just counting them because I put them in the staff room?”

But the computer clearly isn’t an AI. No matter what Ye Zhou says, it doesn’t respond.

With no answers to be had, Ye Zhou crosses his arms and keeps staring at the screen. He’s not worried about the employees—what really matters are those two small lines at the bottom. One hundred points for a single plane jump…

That means he can go back. Back to his original world.

Ye Zhou exhales slowly. This is good news. Better to have a way forward than to wander like a headless fly.

As for the mother and daughter, they must be counted as employees because he put them in the employee break room.

The real issue isn’t the employees, but the security guards. Employees can be old, weak, sick, or disabled—they don’t pose a threat. But security guards obviously can’t be any of those things. If a robbery happens, they’d be useless.

And guarding a supermarket? That kind of job could easily tempt someone.

Forget protecting the store—if they’re too weak, they might not even survive an attack.

Ye Zhou pushes back his chair and stands up. He figures sitting around in the staff room won’t help him come up with anything new. Might as well head to the security room, deal with the pests, and disinfect while thinking things through.

After cleaning up the security room, Ye Zhou goes back to the rear entrance of the supermarket. He takes off his shower cap and raincoat, dilutes the insecticide with water, and washes his head with the mixture. He’s not sure if it’ll help or damage his hair, but at least it puts his mind at ease.

Little things like lice spread fast and reproduce faster.

When Ye Zhou was a child, he lived in his hometown for a while. He used to play in the mud with his cousins, and when he came home, not only did he enjoy a meal of fried pork on a bamboo board, he also got lice. Whether it was from his cousins or the mud, it left a lasting psychological scar.

He’s not afraid of snakes or spiders, but lice? That’s a different story.

When he returns to the supermarket, Ye Zhou finally comes up with a solution.

He has to recruit people. He can’t stay here forever—he needs to make money to get home.

If he wants to recruit people and still ensure his safety, there’s only one reliable way—he has to play the part of a supernatural being.

He walks around the supermarket a few times, gathering up all the magic props and storing them in the cabinet in his office.

The idea comes from the way the mother and daughter called him “Immortal.”

They fear him, yet they also long for him.

Fear isn’t a bad thing. People who fear him won’t betray him.

But he can’t let himself become someone they despise.

If Ye Zhou wants to open a supermarket in this place, he can’t just think of himself as a boss, someone who negotiates wages and sets rules.

He has to be a manager—with a big stick in his left hand, and honey in his right.

But no matter how much he thinks about it, it doesn’t seem to help. He’s been here for days, and only just met the mother and daughter.

Still want to recruit people? He hasn’t even seen a bird fly by. If he can’t hire enough staff, how’s he supposed to find customers?

That night, Ye Zhou lies in bed, staring at the ceiling until the early hours, before finally falling asleep.

Cao’er, on the other hand, sleeps soundly. She and her mother have never slept on such a soft bed. Back home, they slept on the floor with a straw mat. The whole family squeezed into one room, and the straw mat had to be beaten outside every day or it’d be filled with bugs.

At night, they’d hear the sounds of mice scurrying around, looking for food.

She still remembers a time when a mouse bit off her fingernail and a piece of her skin. If she hadn’t woken up in pain, she might have lost that finger.

But there are no mice here. The small square room is windproof and rainproof. It’s much cooler than outside. They even need a thin quilt to keep warm at night.

The quilt is clean, fragrant, and light.

Cao’er closes her eyes and whispers to her mother, “Mother, do the empresses in the palace sleep as well as we do?”

Cao’er’s mother lies close beside her daughter. Even though there are two beds, they sleep in the same one.

She pats her daughter’s back, just like she used to when Cao’er was little. “I don’t know about that, but I’ve heard the empresses sleep on beds made of gold.”

In their imagination, this is what life is like for the emperor’s family: the empress in the West Palace eats pancakes, and the one in the East Palace eats green onions.

Cao’er curls up and buries her head in her mother’s arms, whispering, “A bed made of gold isn’t as good as the one we’re sleeping on.”

Cao’er’s mother gently strokes her daughter’s bald head. “Go to sleep.”

Cao’er doesn’t want to sleep, nor does she dare to. She’s scared that all of this might be a dream.

But she’s so tired. After drinking water and eating, she wants to talk—but before she can even open her mouth, she’s already fallen asleep.

When her mother sees that she’s asleep, she finally closes her eyes and drifts off too.

The morning light comes, but there are no roosters crowing or birds chirping.
It is very quiet, eerily silent.

When Cao’er wakes up, she doesn’t open her eyes right away. Like every morning before, she reaches out to feel her mother’s body. If there is still warmth, it means her mother is still alive. As long as her mother is alive, she can breathe a sigh of relief.

Cao’er lies there, groggily thinking she might have to venture deep into the woods today. Perhaps she can find water?
If they can’t find it, then forget it. The fortune teller says everyone has their own destiny. Even if the mother and daughter are to die today, it is destined to happen.

“Cao’er?” Cao’er’s mother sits up, grabbing her daughter’s hand as she reaches for her. A faint blush appears on her dark face as she excitedly gazes out the window. The sunlight streams in, and even that hot, hateful sunlight becomes gentle at this moment.

Cao’er wakes up, her eyes widening as she takes in the snow-white ceiling. The round light still hangs embedded in the wall.

“Mother! Mother!” Cao’er reaches up, her hand feeling her bare head. “It’s not a dream, it’s not a dream! Mother!”

After breakfast, Ye Zhou spends two hours trying to learn what they know.

In the end, he doesn’t learn much.

Compared to him, who has traveled through time, they seem more like time travelers.

They only know it is the Great Liang Dynasty, and nothing more. They don’t know who the emperor is, nor the empress.

When talking about the emperor, they simply call him “the emperor,” and when they speak of the landlord, it is “the landlord.”

Ye Zhou can’t help but think that one day, people will call him “Lord Immortal.”

They don’t even know what continent, county, or region their hometown is in.

They only remember there is a river in their hometown, and a mountain behind the river.

“The soil and water have been bad in recent years,” Cao’er’s mother says, lowering her head. “At the beginning of the year, the head of the family predicts a drought. At first, we thought it wouldn’t be that bad. There is a river, after all. If the river dries up, we can just carry water from the mountains. But then the locust plague comes right after summer. All the crops in the fields, whether ripe or not, are destroyed. We can’t survive on the little food we have. We see the landlords fleeing, so we pack up and set off. They say they are heading south, where the soil and water are good, and there is plenty of land. Later, more and more people start fleeing, stealing food, and bandits grow bolder. The villages without walls are pillaged, and the ones with walls refuse to let us in. There are people starving to death along the way…” Her voice becomes hoarse, and she can’t continue.

Cao’er picks up the story. “There are still a lot of people around here, a lot of old, weak, sick, and disabled who are outside, but they won’t come in because they’re afraid of big bugs!”

Ye Zhou remains silent.

He thinks to himself that they probably won’t come in because they know this place has already been stripped bare, and it’s better to stay on the road, hoping they might catch something to eat or steal when someone passes by.

Cao’er steals a quick glance at Ye Zhou, then quickly lowers her head.

She has never seen a man like him before. She has never read books, but she is willing to use every word she knows that describes beauty to describe him.

He has a pair of eyes more captivating than the night itself, making anyone who looks into them feel like they will be swallowed whole.

His eyebrows, his lips, his exposed arms and fingers—everything about him is beautiful.

Like a person made of jade.

Cao’er looks down at her own hands.

Short and thick, with skin as dry as parched earth, her eyes well with tears for a moment, but she quickly hides her hands behind her back.

She then thinks of her head.

Her hands can be hidden, but her head cannot.

She shrinks back, never before feeling so ugly in her life.

Ye Zhou, oblivious, doesn’t notice her thoughts at all. After thinking for a moment, he says, “I need more people here. Can you come with me in a few days?”

It isn’t easy for him to go out. He is really out of place among the refugees. They are as thin as skeletons, their skin dark and cracked, while he is strong and healthy. His skin isn’t pale by modern standards, but compared to them, it looks almost radiant.

No matter how you look at it, it is impossible for him to go unnoticed.

In fact, he is likely to be robbed the moment he steps outside.

Although the refugees are weak, sick, and disabled, he is alone—two fists can’t beat four hands.

He is also very self-aware and knows he isn’t the type to be tough.

If he is soft-hearted, this supermarket will end up being donated to the refugees.

Cao’er’s mother immediately speaks up. “Just tell us what the Lord Immortal wants us to do. We’ll do whatever the Lord Immortal asks of us!”

Ye Zhou then explains his requirements in detail: “I need eight men. They don’t have to be strong—it’s hard to find strong ones right now—but they must have families, and their families can’t be too big. No more than three other people besides them.”

Having family members means having concerns.

Anyone who hasn’t abandoned their family on the way should still have a conscience and be more cautious.

They would rather seek a stable life than resort to killing and robbing.

Ye Zhou wants to make sure he has as much security as possible.

He has to survive and return home!

He hasn’t made any money yet, and he hasn’t honored his parents yet. He can’t afford to die here.