Dimensional Supermarket - Chapter 86

The first thing Ye Zhou does after returning to the supermarket is scan through the things Ryan has “gifted” him.

The employees begin sorting items from the dimensional box while Ye Zhou takes a few samples to scan. He plans to keep the gold—exchanging precious metals with the system would be a loss unless he’s completely out of money.

He has Wu Yan and the others move the barrels of wine to the cashier counter. Unable to wait, Ye Zhou scans them with the barcode reader—

Red Wine x

Price:

Ye Zhou is a little surprised. He thought wine would be the cheapest item, yet it turns out to be quite valuable.

To Cao’er Niang, Ye Zhou says, “Go find a place to keep the chickens and ducks. We’ll slaughter them only when we need to eat them.”

Cao’er Niang responds cheerfully. Farmers like her prefer live poultry over processed meat—fresh and familiar.

Aside from the wine, there are also some handmade crafts. Ye Zhou thinks they look rough—after all, with poor tools, even the most skilled craftsmen can’t create polished products.

He picks up a small iron doll. The doll’s face is blurred—it’s impossible to tell if it’s male or female. The hair is just a few carved grooves. It looks like something no one would even pick up if it were left on the ground in modern times.

But when he scans it with the barcode reader, the price stuns him.

Iron Figurine x

Price: 8,000

Ye Zhou: “???”

Why is this thing worth over 8,000?

Is it because handmade crafts are especially valuable in this era? Or is it due to underdeveloped commerce and a shortage of artisans, making such items rare and expensive?

Ye Zhou stands there staring blankly at the barcode scanner.

Compared to Luoyang Base, both the Daliang Dynasty and this place seem like gold mines. They’re still in the farming era, yet they have far more high-value items than Luoyang Base.

Yang Guoqin has to scrape together money for ages just to buy a photon cannon, but here, nobles can trade a few treasured crafts and get dozens.

“It’s easy to make money where there’s a big wealth gap,” Ye Zhou sighs softly.

Nearby, Sarah, who’s sorting through handicrafts, says, “Wait until you come to my plane. The money’s even easier to make!”

Ye Zhou is intrigued. “How easy? What’s valuable over there?”

Sarah replies, “Gemstones, diamonds—the ones you gave Ryan would be worth at least 100 to 200 million in my world.”

Ye Zhou’s expression freezes. He suddenly wants to race back to the cliff, grab Ryan, and force him to give the gems back.

Sarah adds, “Don’t regret it. Before going to my plane, you might find some cheap diamonds. In some planes, diamonds are just worthless rocks.”

Apart from precious metals, the value of things like jade, gemstones, and diamonds fluctuates based on their popularity.

Jade, for example, isn’t worth much in the Daliang Dynasty, but in Ye Zhou’s home plane, it’s incredibly expensive—high-quality jade starts at 100,000.

That thought makes Ye Zhou feel a bit better. “Yeah, maybe I’ll end up in a plane where diamonds are just rocks and I can pick up 10,000 of them. Even if I don’t get to your plane, I can go back to mine. That alone would be valuable.” But as soon as he says that, Ye Zhou loses his enthusiasm again. While scanning items, he murmurs, “I don’t know when I’ll be able to go back. I miss my parents.”

Back in college, he hardly ever missed home—maybe because he always knew it was there, waiting for him. He could return any time he wanted.

But now, drifting through different planes, he misses home more and more.

“You’ll definitely make it back. Don’t worry,” Sarah says with a smile. “The system wouldn’t really stop you from returning. If you gave up, it’d lose out.”

Ye Zhou asks, “What do you think the system really is?”

 Sarah shrugs. “No idea. Maybe aliens. Or something from a higher-level plane.”

After scanning everything except the precious metals, Ye Zhou’s account gains nearly five million. Although five million seems like a lot, it’s basically Ryan’s entire fortune as a lord. For a noble, that’s not much at all. In Ye Zhou’s world, in kingdoms with monarchs, the nobility’s wealth is usually counted in the hundreds of millions.

Ye Zhou returns to the break room and checks his progress. He still needs 12 million to unlock a new plane.

At first, he would’ve thought that number was insane—but now it doesn’t faze him. As long as Ryan follows his instructions, the money will come quickly.

He hasn’t spared Ryan out of pity. Ryan is useful.

Ryan holds a legitimate noble title in this world. Compared to people like Kane and Kurt, Ryan has more power, a wider network, and can bring Ye Zhou greater benefits.

Killing him is easy. Replacing him would be hard.

Thinking this far, Ye Zhou suddenly freezes. He smiles bitterly.

Since when has he started thinking of killing people as “easy”?

It probably began after he kills that bandit leader. Something changes after that, but he doesn’t notice it. Or maybe he does, but chooses to ignore it. As long as he doesn’t think about it, he still feels like the same person.

Ye Zhou doesn’t know whether this change in him is good or bad.

He goes to the bathroom, splashes his face with cold water, and stares at his reflection in the mirror. Time hasn’t left its mark on him—he still looks the same as when all this began.

But his demeanor has changed.

The youthful innocence between his brows is gone, replaced by the calmness and steadiness of an adult.

And hidden deep inside… is a faint but distinct fierceness.

A sharpness that resembles Zou Ming’s. Maybe it’s a byproduct of his combat training?

Ye Zhou wipes the droplets off his face and steps out of the bathroom—only to see Zou Ming coming in from outside.

Ye Zhou says to him casually, “I’m going to pitch a tent outside. You want one too? If you do, go grab one yourself.”

Zou Ming has just finished working out. His hair is soaked with sweat, and heat steams from his skin. He blinks at Ye Zhou in confusion. “What did you say?”

“I said I’m moving out,” Ye Zhou replies. “We’re both guys, but it still feels a little awkward sharing a room.”

He can’t even walk around in just his underwear anymore.

Sure, it’s just two men—but still. Back when he went to bathhouses, no one was embarrassed.

Even though Ye Zhou likes Zou Ming, he always tries to respect Zou Ming’s comfort. Moving out would be better for both of them.

Zou Ming frowns slightly, presses his lips together, and is silent for a long time. In the end, he manages to squeeze out a sentence, “You don’t have to move out. I’ll move.”

Ye Zhou: “…”

Why does it suddenly feel like he’s wronged Zou Ming?

It’s as if he’s done something unforgivable.

Ye Zhou’s voice softens. “I just think it’s inconvenient living together. Like, you can’t accept me walking around the break room in just my underwear—but sometimes I have to get out of bed to get water, or get up in the middle of the night, and it’s such a pain to pull on long pants.”

Compared to wearing pajamas, Ye Zhou still prefers sleeping in just underwear.

For Zou Ming’s sake, he’s already made so many sacrifices!

Thinking of this, Ye Zhou steels himself again. “Even if we don’t live together, we’re still good brothers.”

So cheesy.

Ye Zhou has never said anything this corny even to his best friend from junior high. And if he had, his friend would’ve definitely given him a look of utter disdain and told him to go die.

He never imagines that the first time in his life he’d say something so sweet would be to a man.

Zou Ming lowers his gaze. “I’m not blaming you, and I’m not mad. I have a lot of issues.”

Ye Zhou: “…Actually, they’re not really issues. Everyone has their own habits.” He lets out a sigh and quickly changes the subject. “I just scanned all the stuff Ryan sent over. It’s worth more than five million. I’ve chipped away a bit more at unlocking a new plane. Looks like making money here isn’t too hard. I just don’t know how many planes will unlock next time,” Ye Zhou says.

Zou Ming can tell Ye Zhou is changing the subject, but he follows his lead. “Usually two, sometimes three.”

Ye Zhou nods. “Honestly, I thought this place would have magic.”

He sounds genuinely regretful.

Zou Ming: “You’ll run into it eventually. But those planes are also more dangerous.”

Ye Zhou gets excited. “I just want to find out what’s faster—bullets or spells.”

As the two chat, a knock comes at the door. Cao’er’s voice comes from outside. “Lord Immortal, it’s time to eat.”

Ye Zhou straightens up. “Bring it in.”

His meals are all stir-fried dishes made by Cao’er Niang. Although technically home-cooked, the taste isn’t far from the communal meals she usually makes.

Cao’er places the food on the table: four dishes and a soup—cold dishes, veggie dishes, and meat dishes. Two bowls of white rice steam hot. After setting everything down, she leaves.

“I’ll take a walk after dinner,” Ye Zhou says, sitting down. “Practice with me before bed tonight. I’ll set up the tent tomorrow.”

Zou Ming pauses for a moment, then nods. “Okay.”

Ye Zhou’s current fighting technique isn’t great, but his physical fitness has improved significantly. Zou Ming is teaching him free fighting, starting with punches. Only after learning does Ye Zhou realize just how many kinds of punches there are. But the two strongest are still the straight punch, which relies on brute force, and the whip punch, which relies on inertia.

And the target area matters, too. A punch to the chin or temple can end a fight.

Then there are ground techniques. When Ye Zhou first starts learning them, he finds them a bit… indecent.

Using arms is fine. But legs—though powerful—seem to involve some awkward positions.

Luckily, practice isn’t so rigid, and Ye Zhou eventually breaks through his mental block.

“Both skill and strength matter,” Zou Ming says during their sparring session. “Without enough strength, all your technique just feels like a tickle to someone twice your size.”

Panting, Ye Zhou throws a punch. “I’m pretty strong though, right?”

Zou Ming smiles. “Just keep practicing.”

After all, Ye Zhou isn’t training for competition. His diet isn’t controlled, and he doesn’t use supplements. So even after all this time, his abs are just faint six-packs, only visible when he tenses. But his arms have gotten much more defined.

“I can’t go on,” Ye Zhou gasps, bracing himself on his knees. He’s panting hard, his shirt and hair soaked, his body aching and weak, barely able to stand.

Zou Ming supports his arm. “Sit down.”

Ye Zhou nods wearily.

Just as he tries to straighten up, a wave of dizziness hits and he pitches forward.

Luckily, Zou Ming is quick to catch him. Instead of hitting the floor, Ye Zhou falls right into Zou Ming’s chest.

Ye Zhou winces, his nose bumping against firm muscle. Tears well up in his eyes reflexively.

He has no energy left. He slumps against Zou Ming, letting the other man wrap an arm around his shoulders.

“I still don’t have enough stamina,” Ye Zhou mutters.

Zou Ming doesn’t mock him. “Training isn’t like jogging or doing push-ups. Fighting wears you out in just half an hour. You’re already doing great.”

Ye Zhou can smell the sweat on Zou Ming’s body—but oddly, it isn’t unpleasant. He closes his eyes, not caring how strange or ambiguous their posture is.

He murmurs, “I feel like something’s off with me.”

Zou Ming raises his other arm, as if to embrace Ye Zhou fully—but his hand hovers in the air, fingers twitching. In the end, he doesn’t pull him in. He just stays there, close but not quite touching. Awkward and ambiguous.

“What’s wrong?” Zou Ming asks, looking down at the top of Ye Zhou’s head. His hair is soft, pitch black.

Zou Ming clenches his hand into a fist.

Ye Zhou finally reaches out, grabs Zou Ming’s arm, and slowly stands up with his help.

His face is flushed. After a long pause, he says, “I shouldn’t practice this hard tomorrow. Need to take it slow. My heart skipped a beat earlier.”

It’s like the arrhythmia that comes from pulling all-nighters.

For a moment, Ye Zhou thinks he might die.

“But I’m feeling better now,” he adds with a sigh. “Can’t rush it all at once.”

“Soda water,” Zou Ming says. He walks over and grabs a bottle, unscrews the cap, and hands it to Ye Zhou.

Ye Zhou looks at him, then takes it and drinks a few sips. “Were you like this when you first started practicing?”

Zou Ming recalls something, a faint smile appearing unconsciously on his lips. His voice softens, “I didn’t get this tired. The person who taught me was worried I’d get worn out. They set strict time limits for my daily training. Every time I started feeling tired, they somehow just knew and called it off.”

Ye Zhou replies, “Your teacher sounds pretty great. Look at you—you’re not nearly as attentive as they were.” He laughs and waves his hand. “Not blaming you, though. I’m not a kid.”

Zou Ming looks at Ye Zhou. He hides the light in his eyes and softly apologizes, “It’s true. I wasn’t careful enough. Today’s training was too intense.”

Ye Zhou sighs. “It’s also my fault. I should’ve said something when I couldn’t keep going. But sucking it up like that is a bad habit for men.”