Chapter 3

After the boss lady left, Su Han rushed to the supermarket. But by the time she arrived, the food and daily necessities had all been swept clean.
There were still some baby food jars and condiments on the shelves, apparently not useful for filling your belly, so they’d been left behind.
Su Han considered her options and began strolling along the road, she figured she’d look around for any convenience stores, minimarts, or pharmacies nearby.
After ten minutes, she found a convenience store. Inside, most of the shelves were stripped bare, like a gang of looters had just finished pillaging.
Further on was a large pharmacy. She stepped inside; the shelves were completely empty. Su Han almost thought the place had closed down for good. Only after asking around did she learn the place had been cleaned out by frantic shoppers.
Su Han’s expression grew thoughtful. She murmured quietly to herself, “Seems like, compared to currency devaluation, the bigger problem is just running out of stock.”
Currency depreciation stings, sure, but at least you can still buy something. When the shelves run dry, though, not even a fistful of cash can help you.
Su Han wandered the streets as if she were just out for a stroll under the night sky. After forty long minutes weaving between dark alleys and side streets, she finally stumbled on a tiny convenience store that had miraculously survived.
“What are you looking for?” The shopkeeper called out, sharp-eyed and all business.
Su Han paused, caught off guard. Honestly, she’d already stockpiled quite a bit, but who ever complains about having too many supplies? The more, the better, always.
Her mental tally: a hundred bars of soap, a hundred bottles of water, ten fluffy meat floss cream buns, ten medical bandages, five boxes of antibiotics, seventy bags of steel pellets (each with a hundred shots), two slingshots, one bottle of milk, and a loaf of black bread.
“I’ll take ten bars of soap.” Food and water she could get from her class skills; medicine was impossible to find. Everyday necessities, though? Never enough.
The shopkeeper tossed over the soap without missing a beat. “Eight Bei each. All together, that’s eighty.”
Su Han fished out the cash, shaking her head in disbelief. That morning, a bar of soap at the supermarket had cost just five Bei. By evening, the price had climbed to eight. And here she was, actually feeling lucky to still find soap on the shelves…
She must be losing her mind.
She thought she’d stop, but then found herself grabbing toothpaste, a toothbrush, and a towel too, burning right through her stash of cash.
After a long day, her cleanliness rating had drooped from a pristine 100 down to 53, dipping dangerously close to yellow. But with the new toiletries, she scrubbed herself back up to a near-spotless 98.
She tossed back a bowl of noodles, ate in a daze, then collapsed onto her bed and drifted off almost instantly.
Tomorrow would be another brand-new day.
At eight-thirty the next morning, Su Han clocked in right on time. Business was still slow with only a handful of customers, so her shift was easy. As she greeted guests, she kept her ears open for gossip.
At the farthest table, a group of aunties were slurping noodles and swapping tales of woe.
“After work yesterday I skipped dinner and went straight to the department store to grab what I could. Good thing I got there early; otherwise, I’d have left empty-handed.”
“I spent a full hour in line just to check out my groceries at the supermarket. One whole hour!”
“All my friends are in a panic, trading cash for whatever goods they can get their hands on. Now I’m the anxious one, too. I’ve got to hurry and buy some supplies to stash at home.”
“Heard the supermarket shelves got restocked this morning. I’m heading over as soon as I finish eating, need to grab whatever food and household stuff I can. Yesterday half the shelves were empty, nearly gave me a heart attack.”
Shelves restocked already? Su Han raised her brows. That was a bit of good news at least.
But her relief didn’t last long. At exactly nine o’clock, the system’s cold, robotic voice echoed through her mind: “Day 2. All prices increase by another 50%.”
This time, though, her personal inventory didn’t get restocked with milk or black bread. Nothing new appeared.
Suddenly, one of the noodle-eating aunties waved her over. “Hey, little girl, these noodles are pretty good. Can you pack up a bowl for me to go?”
Before Su Han could answer, the boss lady swept over and cut in, “Take-out’s fine, but it’s 23 Bei a bowl now.”
The auntie frowned, clearly annoyed. “I literally just ate a bowl here. Wasn’t it only 15 Bei?”
The boss lady didn’t even blink. “That was then. This is now. Prices just went up.”
The auntie was left speechless, lips pressed tight as she huffed and gave up.
Once the aunties had cleared out, the boss lady tossed a quick, “I’m heading out to buy supplies, you watch the shop,” over her shoulder, and disappeared in a hurry.
Su Han figured the boss lady was worried flour would get even more expensive, and wanted to restock while she still could. Who knew how much she’d manage to buy?
The boss didn’t return to the noodle shop until well past three in the afternoon, looking more than a little sour. “I got two bags of flour, for now, we’ll have to make do. I’ll try to figure something else out later.”
One bag could make about two hundred bowls. Two bags… That’d keep the shop afloat for another five or six days, tops.
“Okay,” Su Han replied, though her mind was elsewhere. If the system was determined to send prices into a death spiral, what could they possibly do?
When Su Han collected her wages that evening, she found most of the big supermarket was cleared out again. With no other options, she tried her luck at the little convenience store. But this time, even that hidden spot was nearly stripped bare, somehow, word had gotten out. When she arrived, over half the stock was gone.
“Soap’s 13 Bei apiece, only fifteen bars left,” the shopkeeper announced. “But I’m keeping five for myself, so I can only sell you ten.”
Su Han just gave a flat look. As if she could actually afford ten bars at that price!
“I’ll take seven. As for the rest–” She scanned the shelves and finally surrendered, “Do you have anything under 9 Bei?”
The shopkeeper smirked. “Bottled milk. 9 Bei, on the dot.”
“Deal. Seven bars of soap, one bottle of milk.” Su Han immediately agreed.
After dinner, she used up two more bars to scrub herself clean and pushed her cleanliness back to a perfect 100. Still, she tossed and turned all night, sleep refusing to come. The game was getting harder way faster than she’d expected, every new day felt like another jump in difficulty.
The next morning at exactly nine, the system’s voice rang out again: “Day 3. All prices increase by another 50%.”
Su Han’s hands froze. Prices up another 50%, what did that even mean? Noodles in the shop had just hit 23 Bei a bowl. The next time prices jumped, it'd be 35 Bei a bowl.
Basically, one day’s wages at the noodle shop couldn’t even cover three meals anymore.
Or, if you wanted to be optimistic, including lunch and dinner in your “wages” almost felt like getting double pay…
“This is insane! They’re trying to starve us!” The boss lady was so anxious her lips broke out in blisters. She kept muttering about coming up with a plan, but no matter how hard she tried, there was just no way out. Even getting a single bag of flour was nearly impossible now.
Su Han said nothing, just quietly stuck to her work. Once the noodle shop finally went under, she’d head out and try her luck elsewhere.
That night, even though she was sure the convenience store would be wiped out, she still held onto a shred of hope and went to check.
Sure enough, the shopkeeper simply told her, “Soap’s 20 Bei a bar, but it’s already sold out.”
“What else is left?” Su Han was determined to spend every coin.
“Food, drinks, daily goods, nothing at all,” the shopkeeper replied, straight and to the point.
Su Han, "......"
What else could she even say at this point? She could only admit defeat and go with the flow.
“The shop was cleared out by noon. You came this late, of course there’s nothing left to buy.” The shopkeeper couldn't help but add a few words.
Su Han shrugged helplessly. “What can I do? I have to work, you know. It’s the first break I’ve gotten from morning till now.”
Seeing she was just a young girl, the shopkeeper couldn't quite bring himself to be hard-hearted. After a pause, he finally offered a helpful tip, “You know the big supermarket? They restock the shelves every morning at six. Get there early and you should be able to grab some essentials.”
He hesitated a second, then couldn't help asking, “By the way, why do you need so much soap, anyway?”
“Stockpiling,” Su Han replied with a guileless blink. “I’m worried they’ll run out later, so I want to squirrel some away at home.” In the eyes of an NPC, one bar of soap was good for half a month, but for players? One shower, one bar, gone in a flash.
“You know it’s this kind of hoarding that’s causing the shortages in the first place!” The shopkeeper shook his head, clearly disapproving of stockpiling.
Su Han didn’t argue. She just flashed a smile and left.
On the fourth day of the game, she deliberately got up at the crack of dawn and rushed to the big supermarket to shop.
But she wasn’t the only one with the same idea. Even in the early morning, the supermarket was already packed, shoulder to shoulder, no space to move. The moment the clerks stocked the shelves, people swarmed in like locusts and snapped up everything in seconds.
Su Han’s quick reflexes paid off, she managed to snatch five bars of soap. After elbowing her way out of the mob, she headed off to the register...only to be greeted by a line stretching over ten meters.
For a moment, Su Han felt her soul shatter. But there was no other way, if she wanted her soap, she had to queue up like everyone else. One hour and twenty minutes later, she finally emerged from the supermarket, clutching her five bars of soap in triumph.
Back at the noodle shop, the owner’s wife was pacing in distress, muttering anxiously under her breath.
Su Han ignored her, made herself a bowl of noodles for breakfast, and started work.
At 9 a.m., the system’s mechanical voice tolled like a funeral bell: “Day 4. All prices have gone up by 75%.” The pace of vicious inflation had only sped up, not slowed.
Su Han checked her personal inventory. Another supply drop: milk and black bread, boxed up like a meal set.
The owner’s wife drew a deep, careful breath and said, voice low and serious, “I want to talk to you.”
“I’m listening.” Su Han put on her most sensible, obedient face. But deep down, she already had a hunch what this might be about, a bowl of noodles now cost 61 Bei; at her daily wage, she’d be eating her paycheck.
Turns out, the owner’s wife still had a decent bone in her body. Discussing gently, she said, “I can’t pay you anymore, but I’ll cover your lunch and dinner every day. How does that sound?”
“No problem.” Su Han agreed easily, with a warm smile, as if she were the easiest person on earth to negotiate with. But she knew the truth, finding any job now was next to impossible, and even earning a few coins didn’t guarantee you could buy anything worthwhile. Given the circumstances, two solid meals a day was already a gift.
“Just let things go back to normal soon, will they?” the owner’s wife kept muttering. “We can’t live like this much longer.”
But,
Day 5: prices jump another 75%.
Day 6: up 75% again.
Day 7: a staggering 100% spike.
In just three days, a simple bowl of noodles now cost a jaw-dropping 375 Bei.
And then, things got even worse: “Due to a shortage of raw materials, many manufacturers have had to shut down. Their workers are now jobless.”