Chapter 20: Master Fu! You Are Cheating Me
As the fever intensified, Song Yuqing’s consciousness rapidly deteriorated. Huo Bin and Little Meat Bun blurred into long, distorted black shadows, and their facial features completely washed out.
Without hesitating, the giant panda expanded his size, hoisted Song Yuqing onto his broad back, and sprinted toward God’s Supermarket. Thin trails of smoke drifted from the patches of fur in direct contact with her radiating skin, and he sustained several superficial burns across his back.
Huo Bin bolted right after them, trying to keep pace. But the bear moved like a runaway freight train, rapidly putting a hundred meters of distance between them. Under the oppressive, blistering sun, the skeleton’s bare bones began to feel like they were baking into charcoal.
Little Meat Bun burst through the alleyway and crossed the threshold of God’s Supermarket. Carefully laying Song Yuqing onto the floorboards, he frantically grabbed the transparent water spheres from the nearest shelf and began hurling them at her body to cool her down.
“Hey, hey! Watch the merchandise! Stop wasting the water,” Master Fu’s voice boomed through the speakers, cutting off the panic-stricken bear. “Song Yuqing is perfectly fine. She’s just undergoing a standard evolutionary gestation period.”
Delirious and drifting in and out of consciousness, Song Yuqing caught the word gestation. A cold sweat broke out across her forehead. Pregnant?! That’s physically impossible…
“She simply forced her system to absorb too much high-tier crystal core energy all at once,” Master Fu clarified, thoroughly breaking the tension. “Her superpowers evolved at a speed her physical body couldn’t immediately process. She just needs a short rest to stabilize. Honestly, this works out great for me—it saved me the system energy required to manually upgrade her spatial capacity. It’s just a standard biological adjustment. Do you seriously not comprehend basic mutation milestones, you giant bear?”
Little Meat Bun slowly scratched the back of his ears. Huh? Was I supposed to understand that?
Whatever. As long as she isn’t dying!
The exhausted panda slumped flat on his rump right beside Song Yuqing, using his massive paws to fan his own face. He had been terrified out of his mind just a minute ago.
By the time Huo Bin finally rattled his way back into God’s Supermarket, Song Yuqing had almost entirely recovered, though a lingering, feverish flush still colored her cheeks. Finding her safely seated on a stool, calmly combing through the singed, curled patches of the panda’s fur, the skeleton let out a massive sigh and slapped a bony hand against his skull. He had run so hard his joints felt like they were about to splinter into dust.
“Long time no see,” Master Fu greeted the newcomer dryly.
“Yeah… long time no see,” Huo Bin responded, his voice sounding incredibly stiff.
Staring at the familiar counters and layout, a profound sense of security washed over the skeleton. He was finally home. Yet, looking at the pristine shelves, a bitter wave of regret hit him; if he had simply possessed the courage to return sooner, he would have spared himself a month of absolute agony in a toilet stall.
“You explicitly defaulted on your operational agreement,” Master Fu grumbled, his tone dripping with deep dissatisfaction. “What exactly gives you the right to slide back in here?”
Huo Bin lowered his head downcast. “But… this is my convenience store.”
Song Yuqing and Little Meat Bun sat quietly to the side, thoroughly enjoying the drama.
“Correction: you signed an absolute, legally binding contract selling your services in exchange for total immortality,” Master Fu barked. “Yet, the moment the crisis hit, you violated the terms and fled in the face of danger. Per the default clauses, this structural property was seized as immediate collateral! It belongs to the corporate entity now!”
Huo Bin’s skull drooped even lower. The AI was entirely right; this property was no longer his. He had simply been harboring a desperate, foolish shred of hope.
Listening to the exchange, Song Yuqing couldn’t help but feel that Master Fu had essentially swindled the poor guy out of his inheritance. She still couldn’t fathom why a cosmic entity like Master Fu had selected such a dilapidated, ordinary building to establish a multi-dimensional marketplace, or why he was so stubbornly fixated on forcing people to run retail in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Master Fu really was an eccentric…
“Song Yuqing! Stop insulting my management style in your head! I can hear your thoughts clear as day!” The AI snapped, before immediately pivoting back to unleash his frustration on the skeleton. “And I didn’t trick him! He simply proved to be entirely unequal to the task!”
Huo Bin opened his jawbone to mount a defense, but no sound came out.
“Song Yuqing!” Master Fu suddenly shouted, his voice booming through the room and startling her out of her thoughts.
“Present,” she muttered.
“I am officially instructing you to properly accommodate this Huo Bin. Do not neglect our visitor.” The disembodied voice delivered the hospitable instruction in the most ferocious, terrifying tone imaginable.
Huo Bin’s hollow eye sockets lit up with sudden hope, but Song Yuqing was quick to pop his bubble. “Why are you looking so pleased? Did you miss the phrasing? He explicitly categorized you as a visitor. And visitors eventually have to pack their bags and leave.”
The skeleton’s bony fingers twisted sadly.
“Exactly!” Master Fu chimed in, making absolutely no effort to mask his corporate coldness. “God’s Supermarket maintains a strict zero-tolerance policy. I will never re-hire a manager who has deserted their post.”
Song Yuqing shot Huo Bin a sympathetic look. She wasn’t about to waste her breath trying to convince Master Fu to let him stay—not unless the skeleton could actually prove he brought tangible value to the table.
“I understand…” Huo Bin whispered, slowly sinking into a nearby chair.
“Master Fu, out of curiosity, why are you so fixated on signing these specific retail contracts?” Song Yuqing asked, leaning against the counter. “Why did you pick him first, and why did you pick me next?”
She was convinced she was just as unremarkable as her predecessor.
“Him? Because he possessed the clean title to a structurally sound storefront. You? Because you happened to be a spatial user in desperate, immediate need of a sanctuary.”
Song Yuqing went entirely silent, completely stunned by the AI’s absolute casualness.
And so, Huo Bin settled into a strange, unofficial residency inside God’s Supermarket. He spent his days sitting obediently by the front window, keeping his limbs tucked close to minimize his presence as much as humanly possible.
Once Song Yuqing’s biological system had completely processed the dense energy from the three high-tier red cores, she channeled her power to inspect her spatial void. Her jaw dropped. The inventory space had expanded three times over, morphing from a cramped cube into a long, rectangular corridor reminiscent of a sleek vault. Towering steel walls lined the path, featuring four heavy iron doors on either side. Her original three portal doors remained anchored at the far end, though they looked distinctly unrefined compared to the new high-tech iron thresholds.
Driven by the need to fill the gaping voids in her store layout, she woke up well before dawn the next morning, grabbed Little Meat Bun, and set off back toward Chen Town’s commercial mall to hunt for more stock.
Following their established routine, Song Yuqing sat comfortably inside the nylon tent, while the giant panda hoisted the shelter like a picnic basket, moving with massive, sweeping strides toward the complex.
Standing by the storefront window, Huo Bin watched their figures fade down the lane, his posture radiating pure depression.
“Master Fu… I drew my first breaths inside this house. I spent my entire youth within these walls,” the skeleton whispered to the empty room, not expecting a response, simply needing to voice the ache in his bones. “Why does my own home feel like a foreign country now?”
To his surprise, the speakers crackled to life. “If you’re truly that unsatisfied with your current status, you are more than welcome to challenge Song Yuqing for the position. The corporate structure has room for a General Manager and a Deputy Manager. Earn your keep.”
Miles away, inside the dark atrium of the commercial mall, Song Yuqing suddenly let out a massive sneeze, nearly dropping the crate of purified water spheres she was lifting.
This second scavenging run proved to be exceptionally smooth. Lin Han’s team had already completely cleaned out the grocery hub on the basement level, and the fashion retail zones on the first and second floors held nothing of value for a survival market. However, up on the third-floor dining grid, they struck gold: the orange industrial forklift remained parked by the escalator banks, still loaded down with massive pallets of pristine bottled water.
Song Yuqing and the panda systematically methodically combed through the row of abandoned restaurants. The vast majority of the raw produce, fresh fruits, and meat stocks had degenerated into piles of rotting sludge under the heatwave. But Little Meat Bun’s sharp eyes caught a massive, heavy cardboard crate tucked into the back freeze-room of a high-end steakhouse. Opening it, they discovered a pristine supply of vacuum-sealed, self-heating premium meals that hadn’t suffered a single point of thermal spoilage.
Song Yuqing funneled the haul into her newly expanded corridor vault, doing a quick mental tally. It was just enough to fill the empty slots on her retail shelves back home.
Stepping down to the home goods sector on the second floor, she targeted a high-end bedding boutique, systematically sweeping the entire inventory of plush duvets, ergonomic pillows, and collapsible frames into her space.
As the duo finally prepared to exit the complex, a traditional, low-rise teahouse situated directly adjacent to the mall caught her eye.
“Want to check it out?” she asked, looking down at the bear.
A dense, remarkably vibrant bamboo grove shielded the front entrance of the teahouse. Strangely enough, despite the oppressive 50-degree heatwave that had scorched the rest of the town’s flora into ash, this specific thicket of bamboo remained entirely green and thriving.
Song Yuqing glanced pointedly at her companion. “You actually eat bamboo, right?”
Little Meat Bun offered a casual nod, his expression entirely neutral. “I can. But plain grass doesn’t carry the rich aroma of a hot meat bun.”
Seeing his complete lack of interest, Song Yuqing chuckled, realizing her mutated bear had developed a highly refined, carnivorous palate.
The moment they stepped past the stone threshold into the bamboo grove, a sudden, refreshing blast of cool air enveloped them. The interior of the traditional teahouse felt remarkably well-insulated. Towing down the aisles, she discovered rows of sealed ceramic tins packed with premium tea leaves, completely untouched by the elements. Even more miraculous—the stagnant, stomach-churning stench of the local zombie horde was entirely absent from the structure.
An antique wooden tea table occupied the center of the main room, displaying a collection of flawless, replica Song Dynasty tea instruments: a glazed porcelain pot, a heavy stone grinder, a fine silk sieve, a polished bamboo spoon, and a delicate whisk. Every single piece was a work of pure, exquisite craftsmanship.
It would be an absolute crime to leave this behind! she thought.
Song Yuqing channeled her power, lifting the entire tea set, table, and chairs, and transferring the arrangement intact into her rectangular vault. The corridor-like void, now furnished with an antique tea lounge, took on a bizarrely elegant aesthetic.
Little Meat Bun trotted through the rooms, using his sharp senses to help her spot hidden compartments, ensuring they didn’t leave a single scrap of useful inventory behind. As they stepped out into the teahouse’s private stone courtyard, a sudden, crisp breeze brushed against the bear’s singed chest fur.
Oh, that feels incredible! The panda’s eyes lit up with pure joy, his ears twitching happily.
Song Yuqing paused, feeling the gentle current of the wind against her skin, her brows knitting together in confusion. The ambient outdoor temperature was currently hovering at a lethal fifty degrees Celsius—in a thermal spike like this, a naturally cool, refreshing breeze was a physical impossibility.
