CHAPTER 69: MUSHROOM VILLAGE 19

In the general shop, Fang Minglan was watching the shop.

According to the rules, when the owner is absent, the person watching the general shop is entitled to receive 10% of the day’s earnings as compensation.

Fang Minglan had arrived early in the morning.

She had been worried about how to achieve her goal, but to her surprise, the general shop was completely empty when she arrived—there wasn’t a single soul inside. The owner was nowhere to be found.

But that worked perfectly in her favor.

There was only one thing that bothered her—the rules had repeatedly mentioned a black cat. So where was it?

Although she was not quite sure what the so-called black cat really was, the lure of money was irresistible. For the prospect of profit, Fang Minglan decided to stay on to watch the general shop.

Perhaps it was because few people were around in the village during the day, but from morning until afternoon, no customers arrived.

Growing impatient in her wait, Fang Minglan glanced at the compressed biscuits on the counter behind her and licked her lips.

Last night, after that incident, she had eaten nothing. Her stomach had been empty since yesterday, and by now, the hunger was making her feel lightheaded.

When she entered this ghostly domain, all she had on her was half a pack of cigarettes. She had been relying on smoking to stay awake and keep herself from collapsing.

Suddenly, a shadow slipped in through the doorway. Fang Minglan’s heart leapt with joy. She was about to step forward to greet the customer when she saw a familiar face—it was Wan Qian.

Wan Qian walked in carrying a thermos. She greeted Fang Minglan casually. "You’re here too?"

Fang Minglan’s face turned pale. Seeing Wan Qian act as though nothing had happened made her feel like she had swallowed a fly.

It was clear that Wan Qian already knew everything about what had transpired, yet she pretended to remain completely oblivious. Was it really so amusing to toy with her like this?

"I’m watching the general shop" Fang Minglan finally muttered after holding back her true feelings—she didn’t dare to fall out with Wan Qian.

Wan Qian let out an "Oh," surprised that Fang Minglan was such a helpful person.

Fang Minglan gave a weak laugh, "Hehe."

Surveying the general shop, Wan Qian didn’t see the old lady from yesterday. It seemed she was still at the clinic.

Which made sense—after all, how could someone with such a severe broken bone be healed overnight?

Feeling slightly guilty, Wan Qian decided to visit the old lady.

Just then, the telephone on the counter suddenly began to ring.

Fang Minglan stood motionless beside the counter, making no move to answer. She simply let the shrill ringing continue uninterrupted.

She remembered what the general shop rules said: "The general shop’s telephone is broken. If it rings, please ignore it."

Wan Qian, however, found it strange. She glanced at Fang Minglan with curiosity and asked, "Aren’t you going to pick it up?"

A flicker of fear crossed Fang Minglan’s face. What did Wan Qian mean by that? Was she trying to trick her into breaking a rule?

Her body tensed. She swallowed hard and shot back, "Why should I pick it up?"

Wan Qian replied, "You’re watching the general shop. If the telephone rings, shouldn’t you pick it up? You’re really not doing your job."

If her own farm had employees like this, she’d fire them without hesitation.

Under accusatory gaze of Wan Qian, Fang Minglan felt extremely uneasy. "Not doing your job"? Why was Wan Qian emphasizing those words?

She couldn’t help overthinking. Could there be a hidden rule in the general shop she didn’t know about?

The words "doing your job" certainly sounded important to an employee. But she wasn’t technically an employee—just helping out.

Don’t overthink it, she told herself. Wan Qian must be bluffing.

The telephone rang two more times and, receiving no answer, finally went silent.

Wan Qian sighed, when the boss is away, the person left to watch the general shop just can’t be trusted.

Shaking her head, she turned and walked toward the clinic. The old lady was still at the clinic—she needed to check on her.

Fang Minglan watched Wan Qian’s retreating figure, her emotions in turmoil.

Why had she sighed? Why shake her head? What did that last, meaningful glance before she left mean?

Just then, the telephone rang again, sharp and urgent.

Fang Minglan stared at the telephone as if she were looking at a raging flood-beast, yet she couldn’t help but slowly raise her hand.

But she caught herself. She slammed her raised hand down and walked to a spot far away from the telephone. Watching it ring on and on, a cold smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Ha. Trying to trick me into breaking the rules? Not that easy!"

The telephone finally stopped ringing. Fang Minglan let out a breath of relief and turned to head back to the counter.

Suddenly, she heard two sharp meows outside the door.

The general shop rule 3: Do not make eye contact with the black cat for more than ten seconds. Do not touch it. Do not let it jump on you. The black cat should remain inside the general shop. If you see it outside, pretend you don’t see it. (The text here is crossed out, with a new line added below.) If you see it outside, bring it back inside.

Fang Minglan remembered the rules related to the general shop very clearly after having read them.

Clearly, the last sentence in Rule 3 contained a contradiction with the crossed-out words and the added sentence. A similar situation appeared in the "Village Rules" as well.

Fang Minglan concluded that the crossed-out words were the correct rules, and the additions were the been contaminated. So she ignored the meows.

The sound of meowing lingered at the door for a while before shifting to the sound of claws scratching the threshold. The cat scratched and meowed at the door for some time, but when no one responded, it stopped.

Fang Minglan could sense that the cat was still at the door.

Since the rule stated that do not make eye contact with the black cat for more than ten seconds, , so she only glanced briefly. But even that brief look made her inhale sharply.

The cat appeared to have suffered some brutal abuse.

Its fur was heavily missing in large patches, exposing skin mottled in vivid red. It was emaciated, with barely any fat on its body—just a layer of skin stretched tightly over its protruding bones.

With each breath, its irregular, unnaturally red skin quivered. Only the black fur left on its tail served as proof—it really was a black cat.