Chapter One: Starting Today, I Am the Store Manager

Chen Xuan had the same dream once again.

It was a dream he’d had since childhood.

In the dream, there was a small yet exquisitely decorated room, resembling a hotel reception or perhaps a shop. A coffee machine sat on the bar, its rich aroma almost palpable. Wooden shelves lined the walls, stocked with familiar snacks. In the center stood several glass display cases, always filled with what he desired most—once it was miniature racing cars and game consoles, now it was money and time.

Yes, even his dreams had become so pragmatic.

He’d had this dream so many times that he developed an unconscious awareness that he was dreaming. He could wander freely, scrutinizing every detail, even making himself a cup of milky coffee with the machine. Regrettably, dreams were just dreams—he never tasted the coffee, nor could he tear open the snacks’ wrappers.

He was always just one step away.

Either he would wake up, or the dream would shift elsewhere.

What left the deepest impression on him was a tin box on the bar, etched with strange symbols and patterns, the keyhole fashioned into a lifelike eye. Through that eye, he could see a string of ever-changing numbers—a countdown, it seemed. The box was always locked. Perhaps when the numbers reached zero, it would open by itself.

But… who cared what treasure the box in a dream might hide?

Even if it was a check for financial freedom, it was still just a dream.

He was twenty-six this year, and at last, the countdown had reached its end.

Click.

The moment the numbers hit zero, Chen Xuan heard a crisp mechanical sound from the box.

Goodness, not only was the dream continuous, but even the timing was precise. He walked over to the bar and opened the box himself—

The dream ended, as always.

Chen Xuan sat up groggily, meaning to go to the bathroom, only to realize he wasn’t in his bed.

Sleep fled instantly. He shivered and his eyes flew open wide!

There was no unfamiliar ceiling—he’d seen these wooden beams countless times: in his dreams!

The lighting was hidden in recessed fixtures, soft and gentle, neither glaring nor dim, just enough for him to take in his surroundings. He seemed to have been sleeping in front of the bar, and everything around him confirmed it: this was the very room from his dream.

A chill crept down his spine, and he rushed out the door, wanting first to confirm his location.

To his relief, he found himself surrounded by the familiar buildings of his residential complex—he was no more than a hundred meters from his own rented building, number two.

He dashed back home at a sprinter’s pace!

Once inside and the door locked, his wildly beating heart gradually calmed.

What on earth was happening? Sleepwalking?

But how could the shop’s interior be exactly the same as the room in his dream?

And what a coincidence—it was right in his own neighborhood!

This blurring of dream and reality was so bizarre that Chen Xuan was deeply unsettled.

After a moment’s thought, he decided to go back… to see what that room really was.

However, after dressing and retracing his steps, he couldn’t find the shop’s entrance again—this was an old complex, buildings packed close together, with many blind alleys. He could only recall the general direction, but not the specific door number. Most of the ground-floor shops were run by the landlords themselves, their operating hours unpredictable. Once the lights were out, the whole row was pitch black—finding one particular shop was no easy task.

Maybe… he really had been sleepwalking?

Thinking of work the next morning, Chen Xuan had to let it go.

He hardly dared close his eyes that night.

The next day, he dragged his weary body through his fast-food shift until evening. By the time he trudged home, his eyelids were drooping shut. Still, before collapsing, he glanced at the wall clock: 6:15.

He knew the moment he woke that something was terribly wrong.

This time, there was no dream—he’d simply woken up needing the bathroom. But the instant he opened his eyes, he realized he was back in that damned place!

That same exquisite room he’d so often dreamt of!

The familiar ceiling, the gentle lights, the ticking wall clock—it all felt like yesterday.

And the clock’s hands were just passing 8:30.

He soon noticed the first oddity: he’d only seemingly slept two hours, yet his body was brimming with energy, as if he’d slept a full twelve.

Sleepwalking could no longer explain this.

With a start, he sprang up and checked himself—no visible injuries, and his kidneys seemed intact.

Maybe he should sneak out before anyone noticed?

He’d barely taken two steps before stopping.

Where would he go?

If this dream could pull him out of reality, did it matter where he ran? Even if he slipped home now, what if it happened again tomorrow? He couldn’t possibly endure this kind of teleportation every day, could he?

Besides… this environment was more familiar to him than his temporary home.

He’d lived in the Tianlu complex less than two years, but this dream had persisted on and off for over a decade.

If you dream the same dream from childhood, isn’t it strongly hinting at something?

If he didn’t figure this out, he might never truly escape this place.

Slowly, Chen Xuan turned back to the spotless, tidy bar—this was no abandoned space. The countertop was immaculate, as if someone cleaned it daily.

Drawn by impulse, he pressed the coffee machine’s button.

Gurgle, gurgle.

The machine whirred to life, and soon a stream of brown and white liquid poured into a cup. He’d repeated this action countless times in his dreams, buying the same model for his own home. Yet, dream coffee could only be smelled, never tasted.

He picked up the cup and took a small sip.

Rich coffee flavor, mingled with a hint of creamy milk—identical to the one brewed at home.

…He was no longer dreaming.

Well then, he might as well look around.

First, he checked the display cases—he’d been in such a hurry yesterday, he’d forgotten to look. Now, the glass cabinets were all empty—no money, no time—reminding him again of the gap between dreams and reality.

In terms of detail, however, this reality was far richer. He noticed, for example, numerous photo frames on the walls—something he’d rarely paid attention to in the dream. Up close, he saw houses, landscapes, and some postmodern images: a close-up of Saturn’s rings, a monster from a special effects film, a spaceship wrecked in a primeval jungle.

He had to admit, the CG was exquisite; the owner had good taste.

Behind the bar, the wall displayed three certificates: a business license, a food safety permit, and a fire safety certificate. With these three documents, the shop was clearly legitimate, registered with the authorities.

Beside the certificates was an “Outstanding Employee” board.

All the employee slots were blank, except for the top “Manager” position, which held a photo.

The moment he saw it, Chen Xuan was dumbfounded.

Wasn’t that his own ID photo? The very one from his National ID card!

Me? The manager?

He checked the certificates again, only to see his own name—Chen Xuan—listed as the legal representative on all three.

This was too absurd!

When had he ever applied for these?

Yet, amid the absurdity, it all seemed strangely logical.

After all, in the dream, he was always the only customer here.

Forcing himself to remain calm, Chen Xuan took his phone and scanned the interior—no hidden cameras or anything of the sort. He stepped outside and saw that, indeed, the shop was part of his residential block. There were no streetlights at the entrance, making it gloomy. The signs above were a mishmash—some old “General Store” plaque on the wall, another lightbox labeled “Skewer Hotpot,” neither of which was illuminated.

A semi-transparent plastic curtain shielded the entrance from wind and rain; the faded plastic showed its age. Someone had even scrawled “Shop for Rent” across it in marker.

So, previously, this had been a small supermarket and then a hotpot shop, both now closed down. The shop had only recently reopened, with renovations done inside but no exterior signs. No wonder it was so hard to find at night.

This wasn’t a haunted shop—after all, he’d never heard of ghosts needing a business license.

A single, unbelievable, yet seemingly inevitable answer surfaced in his mind.

—Whether he liked it or not, this shop had been set up just for him.

The thought sent a current down his spine.

In some ways, Chen Xuan had always longed for a business of his own. After graduation, he’d worked at a big tech firm, tried a start-up with colleagues making games, but the relentless grind left him exhausted. He’d quit to take part-time jobs while he recovered.

His ideal job was one that wasn’t too strenuous, yet provided a steady living. Being a landlord with a ring of keys, browsing the morning market, was the perfect model; a little neighborhood store came close. Both had something in common: no intense competition, and he could choose when to work or rest.

Even if the income wasn’t high, it beat slaving away at a fast-food joint or delivering food.

Was he about to see his dream come true?

Keeping his emotions in check, Chen Xuan knew he had to answer one crucial question before anything else.

If this shop truly was a gift from his dream, what exactly was it meant to sell?