Dimensional Supermarket - Chapter 33

“So, you’re here to exchange food for the refugees?” Ye Zhou picks up his teacup.

He doesn’t have much preference for tea. Though he enjoys drinking it, he can’t tell if it’s good or bad. The tea he’s drinking now is just the most common bagged Huamaofeng from the supermarket.

Though the quality isn’t great, the fragrance is strong, but the more he drinks, the thirstier he becomes.

Ye Zhou glances at Lin You’s face, surprised. The impression Lin You gave him before was that of a rich young man, disconnected from the world. He was probably the type who wouldn’t even be able to tell wheat from millet if thrown into a field.

It’s clear now—one shouldn’t judge a person by their appearance. Ye Zhou admits to himself that he has underestimated him.

Ye Zhou says, “Even if you exchange food and go back, how long will it last if you eat it all up? Besides, if you keep handing out food, the refugees will only stay outside Anyang City. Even if there are other ways to survive, they won’t leave.”

Food is limited. Even if Lin You comes to exchange food each time, how many trips can he make? How many difficulties and setbacks will he encounter?

Moreover, it isn’t sustainable to just support people without anything in return.

Lin You lowers his head and smiles bitterly. “To be honest with you, my father says the same thing. I really have no choice but to come up with this stupid idea. It’s better than watching the refugees starve to death.”

Ye Zhou points to the sofa opposite him. “Sit down.”

Lin You doesn’t refuse. He does whatever The Lord Immortal asks him to do.

Ye Zhou says, “Food can certainly be exchanged. Since you’re here, I’ll give you an idea.”

Lin You’s eyes brighten, excitement making him almost leap up.

It’s a blessing that The Lord Immortal’s cave is still there. The opportunity to exchange food is a blessing in disguise. He never imagines The Lord Immortal would be willing to give him advice.

“In addition to food, I can also give you grain seeds,” Ye Zhou adds. “One acre of land can yield ten shi.”

Lin You is stunned. His lips tremble, and his throat tightens, unable to produce sound.

Ten shi?

The best grains in the world, with perfect seeds and favorable weather, yield only three shi per acre at most.

Ye Zhou thinks for a moment. “It’s neither wheat nor rice. If I had to compare it to something, it looks a bit like taro, but the taste and texture are completely different. And it doesn’t require seed cultivation.”

But Lin You doesn’t respond at all. His cheeks are flushed like someone drunk, his eyes unfocused. His lips move slightly, and if one listens closely, they can hear him murmuring the same two words over and over—“Ten shi.”

Just as Ye Zhou is about to call his name, Lin You suddenly stands up and kneels before him again.

The abrupt action startles Ye Zhou.

Lin You touches his forehead to the ground and says, “Immortal! This is the work of saving lives!”

He speaks with a mix of crying and laughter, “It saves the people of today and benefits countless generations to come!”

Ten shi! How many lives can be saved by that?

Tears fall from Lin You’s eyes.

He is indeed a rich young man who hasn’t known the suffering of the people. His father is a governor, and his mother comes from a prestigious family. He’s never experienced hardship or poverty. His biggest worries have been things like which wife to marry and whether he can gain fame.

But after traveling from north to south and going through all that he has, he can’t go back.

For the first time, the suffering of the people comes to him so clearly, but no one at home can understand him at all.

Even his cousin can’t understand his feelings.

To them, the suffering of the people is natural. They have no family lineage to inherit, no way to pass on wisdom from one generation to the next. They will only grow worse, not better. They are ignorant, empty-headed.

They are irrelevant in the grand scheme of the world. Even if they die, others will take their place. There will never be a shortage of people.

It’s the descendants of famous families, the ones with wisdom and status, who truly make the world better. They assist the emperor in building a prosperous age.

They can live without an emperor, but they can’t live without themselves.

The imperial authority doesn’t reach the countryside. The real rulers of the people are them. Local gentry and landowners can ignore imperial edicts, but they can’t ignore them.

Lin You never realized they thought that way before.

Maybe he used to think this way too. But now he realizes how insignificant he is—and how insignificant even a powerful family can be.

His father may pity the people, but he can still watch them die without doing anything. Because to him, only the people under his rule are truly people. Refugees fleeing famine are just refugees.

Refugees bring no benefits to Anyang City—only harm. So his father gives up on them, focusing on the difficulty of resettling them instead of finding a way to solve their problems.

But as a son, he can’t directly speak out about his father’s faults.

Maybe… he doesn’t want to admit that his father is like that too.

Only the Immortal…

Only the Immortal treats everyone as human beings, sees them all the same, without any distinction of rank or status.

Ye Zhou doesn’t know what Lin You is thinking. He’s stunned by Lin You’s words about saving the people.

Of course, he doesn’t think he deserves the honor. If anyone truly deserves it, it’s probably old Mr. Yuan.

Ye Zhou can’t understand why Lin You is crying. Maybe it’s because Lin You is… too emotional?

He’s never seen anyone cry so easily.

Lin You wipes his tears, thinking it’s a genuine emotional outburst and nothing to be ashamed of. His voice is hoarse as he says, “Immortal, I’ll have them bring the goods in now.”

Ye Zhou doesn’t stop him. He knows Lin You needs time to calm down. He nods and says, “Go.”

Lin You leaves the break room.

Ye Zhou turns to Zou Ming, who’s sitting silently. “Why is he crying?”

Zou Ming doesn’t know and simply replies, “Too much emotion.”

Ye Zhou shrugs. “I don’t cry much. The last time I cried was when I was in kindergarten.”

He thinks about the reason but can’t remember—either he was punished, or his favorite toy was taken. Children cry for countless reasons.

That’s why Ye Zhou doesn’t really like kids. He’s heard he was quite the brat himself back then.

Ye Zhou looks at Zou Ming’s expression. Even though Zou Ming always seems expressionless, his emotions are actually rich—just hard for unfamiliar people to notice. Maybe it’s because they spend all day together, even sleep in the same room at night—though on separate beds—that Ye Zhou has begun to get a feel for his moods.

“You don’t like him?” Ye Zhou takes another sip of tea.

Zou Ming leans back on the sofa, one hand resting on the back of the chair. Compared to Ye Zhou’s upright posture, Zou Ming is more laid-back.

He doesn’t respond directly but says, “There are many people I don’t like.”

Ye Zhou jokes, “Does that include me?”

Zou Ming answers calmly, “Not included.”

Ye Zhou smiles. “I don’t hate you either. I like you quite a lot.”

Zou Ming suddenly pauses, raises his head, and looks at Ye Zhou. His dark eyes seem to pierce through Ye Zhou’s skin and into his soul.

“I was worried that you’d be hard to get along with,” Ye Zhou says, looking relieved. “You look so handsome and cool, it doesn’t seem very realistic.”

Zou Ming raises an eyebrow. “What’s unrealistic?”

Ye Zhou yawns. “You’re so handsome and cool, but you don’t seem real. People like you only exist in novels or movies. How could someone like you exist in real life?”

Zou Ming: “Is it bad that I’m like this?”

Ye Zhou notices that Zou Ming is being serious, so he stops joking. “It’s good. I wouldn’t know how to react if you suddenly smiled.”

Zou Ming curls his lips at Ye Zhou.

Perhaps because he doesn’t smile often, Zou Ming’s smile is stiff.

The stiffness makes Ye Zhou feel like there’s a gun pointed at Zou Ming’s head, forcing him to smile.

Ye Zhou is certain this is the most reluctant smile he’s ever seen in his life.

With that awkward grin, Zou Ming asks, “Getting used to it?”

Ye Zhou: “…”

You’re really trying hard for my sake, but you don’t have to go this far.

“…Maybe… I’ll get used to it after seeing it for a while?” Ye Zhou doesn’t want to disappoint Zou Ming, who’s trying to smile.

Zou Ming suddenly says, “He brought a lot of stuff.”

Ye Zhou nods. “I just don’t know if any of it is valuable. It’d be great if he brought gold or silver directly. Gold’s valuable in any world. I could exchange some in the system and take the rest to other worlds. Maybe I could make a profit. If it’s handicrafts, it might not be as good as gold or silver.”

Gold and silver can be stored in the next world, but the best way to sell handicrafts is to “sell” them to the system. He gets whatever price the system sets. It’s a complete buyer’s market.

If the next world is similar to the one Zou Ming comes from, then handicrafts are basically “garbage.”

Ye Zhou asks Zou Ming, “What’s the most valuable thing in your world? Do you have currency?”

Zou Ming replies, “Where there are people, there’s a market. Of course there’s currency, but our currency is food. Jerky, biscuits, everything edible.” Then he suddenly adds, “If you come to my world, you could buy a boy with all four limbs for a piece of biscuit. Would you buy him?”

Ye Zhou is taken aback. “Why would I buy a person? Even though I’m here, my sense of morality still stands!”

Zou Ming asks again, “What if the person selling him has been abusing him? And his wrists and ankles are shackled. Would you buy him?”

Ye Zhou thinks for a moment. This time, he doesn’t say no. Instead, he says, “I don’t know how long I can stay in a world, and I can’t save everyone I meet. But if I do meet someone like that… maybe I’d buy him out of weakness. I don’t know.”

Zou Ming doesn’t speak.

He looks down at his hands.

The boy from his memory seems to come alive in that moment. Living in the depths of the dark market, surrounded by sewage and filth—a boy with scars all over his face, one eye swollen shut, is kicked into a mud pit by a man whose face remains hidden.

The boy struggles to rise, but he’s too small, and the middle-aged man’s fist is too heavy.

The boy tries to lift his head, wanting to see the sky one last time.

That’s all he has left—the sky, something no one can take away from him.

Just as he raises his head…

He sees a man walking out of the market. The man wears a clean white shirt and black trousers. He’s handsome and slim, like the upper-class people who usually look down on him as if he’s nothing.

But the man’s expression isn’t arrogant. His eyes are gentle, warm.

And he seems to be looking right at him.

Then…

He walks toward him—