She’s a Passerby, But Can See the Protagonist’s Halo

Lu Chen stared at the young couple carrying backpacks, momentarily speechless.

Heaven above, earth below—he never imagined his dimensional convenience store could be repurposed like this.

What kind of brains do you two have? Super-genius brains?

No wonder I could never be a top student, Lu Chen silently lamented.

As the owner of the dimensional store, he had naturally discovered the secret of time stasis.

But at the time, his first thought was: *Does this mean I can finally catch up on all the movies, TV shows, games, and novels I missed?*

What normal person would think of using frozen time for *studying*?

Lu Chen refused to admit he was a hedonist—it was clearly this couple who were the odd ones.

He gave them a resigned look. "Well, since you're here already, take a seat."

The moment he spoke, the couple's eyes lit up.

"Thank you, Boss Lu!" Zhu Jue said.

"May good fortune bless you, and may your store thrive!" Yan chimed in smoothly.

Without hesitation, the two settled into the same spot where they'd previously shared tea. The large table, half occupied by a tea set, was more than spacious enough for studying.

Lu Chen watched as they pulled out thick textbooks and notebooks, his head already aching at the sight.

Medical textbooks and... *philology*?

What even is this?

With matching black-and-white insulated tumblers placed side by side, the two picked up their pens and immediately immersed themselves in studying.

Lu Chen: "..."

All he could think was: *Top students are terrifying.*

Their focus was clearly genuine—not just for show.

Since they were already settled in, Lu Chen figured this counted as "customer engagement" for the day. With no other visitors expected and still recovering from his latest trip across dimensions, he decided to rest.

Some of the goods he'd brought back from the Zhou Dynasty sold quickly, while others—like the folk-kiln porcelain—lingered on the shelves. Although well-preserved by modern standards, their abundance made them practically worthless.

His gaze landed on a dress hanging nearby, and he remembered—Yan had tried it on a month ago.

A whole month, and it still hadn’t sold.

He wanted to say something but hesitated, not wanting to disturb their studying.

*Damn it,* Lu Chen thought, *I’ve really let these two take over my store. Since when do I need permission to speak in my own shop?*

Still, he waited until Yan paused to sip her tea before approaching. "That dress you tried on last time is still here."

Yan set down her cup of chrysanthemum tea and glanced at the pale yellow palace-style gown.

"Surprised no one’s bought it yet," she mused.

Zhu Jue set down his pen as Yan turned to Lu Chen. "Do you have a matching set for men?"

Lu Chen blinked, then realized.

"Of course. Let me find them for you."

*Was the reason they didn’t buy it last time because there wasn’t a couples' set?* The possibility struck him as highly plausible, and he mentally kicked himself for the oversight.

The men’s robes—*zhiduo*, *daopao*, and the like—had originally been custom-made for himself during the Zhou Dynasty. He’d ordered extras as backups.

Eyeing Zhu Jue, Lu Chen figured their height and build were close enough. The finer details might differ, but they’d fit well enough.

He slipped into the storeroom and returned moments later with a wooden chest of clothing.

"Not ironed or hung, but feel free to browse."

"*Zhiduo*, *daopao*, cross-collared robes, overcoats, capes..." Yan and Zhu Jue sorted through them—different styles, each in multiple colors. The store’s inventory was impressively stocked.

Since time stood still in the dimensional store, no matter how long they spent here, it was time gained. Yan didn’t feel like she was wasting a second.

*Once we pick a set for Jue, we can plan summer photoshoots at the palace.*

"Men’s clothing is cheaper," Lu Chen added.

Reflecting on his Zhou Dynasty venture, Lu Chen had nearly made a critical mistake with the outfits.

First, the temporal gap meant differences in fabric, embroidery, and tailoring.

Second, most of the traditionally styled garments popular in modern times weren’t everyday wear in ancient eras—or at least, not for commoners.

Take round-collar robes or *feiyufu*—Lu Chen had brought modern replicas, but in the past, wearing them without the proper status would’ve been risky.

Official robes with rank-specific insignia were reserved for bureaucrats. Though he’d grown out his hair, his youthful face lacked the gravitas of an official.

And let’s not forget—modern nutrition meant his height alone made him tower over ancient crowds. *A crane among chickens*, as the saying went.

He still shuddered at the close call. Thankfully, he’d adapted quickly.

After realizing how strictly ancient society enforced class distinctions—down to clothing—Lu Chen discreetly observed local attire before switching to a *daopao* and cloth shoes from his modern stock.

Luckily, *daopao* designs had remained largely unchanged for centuries.

Still, he’d rushed to purchase locally made men’s wear just to blend in.

In the end, Yan and Zhu Jue chose a deep indigo *daopao* to pair with the yellow dress. The contrast—serene against vibrant—was striking.

As they finished selecting, Yan studied the store, noting subtle changes since her last visit.

"Once you’ve been to a place, do you stop sourcing goods from there?" she asked, referring to the interstellar dimension.

"We still do, but I’m trying to diversify inventory," Lu Chen replied.

Truthfully, since acquiring the dimensional store, he’d already visited three distinct worlds.

By Earth’s timeline, new dimensions refreshed monthly.

Time worked differently when he traveled: a month spent operating in another dimension didn’t advance Earth’s clock.

In simpler terms, leaving Earth meant entering stasis.

A month on Earth could mean two months of lived experience for him.

And without fail, every time he returned from a new dimension, this couple would show up as if sensing the store’s reopening.

**Chapter Excerpt: The Little Shop’s Surprises**

Had the shop’s system mistakenly flagged them as VIPs? The new inventory wasn’t even fully sorted yet, but it had already been pushed to them!

Today, Lu Chen had only just cleared out some of the old displays in the shop. The newly arrived items were still being organized.

“Oh, by the way, feel free to take a look at those fans over there. Someone traded them to me—consider them freebies,” Lu Chen remarked.

“Holding a fan while wearing this kind of outfit adds a certain flair.”

While searching for men’s clothing for Zhu Jue, Lu Chen had stumbled upon a box of fans in the storage room.

These things weren’t worth much, and he’d completely forgotten about them after tossing them into storage.

Lu Chen recalled that during the Zhou Dynasty, a poor scholar had visited the shop and taken a liking to a wristwatch but couldn’t afford it.

The scholar, embarrassed by his lack of funds, had offered to pay with calligraphy and paintings instead. At first, Lu Chen had been inclined to refuse.

But then he reconsidered—a simple watch didn’t cost much, and if this scholar ever became someone important, it might turn out to be a lucrative investment.

At the very least, an antique piece of calligraphy or painting would still be more valuable than the mass-produced mechanical watch he’d imported.

He’d bought a stack of bamboo-framed fan blanks for the scholar and even thoughtfully included ink and pigments.

A full month passed, and just as Lu Chen was starting to suspect the scholar had run off with the goods, the man returned with a basket full of painted fans.

At the time, Lu Chen’s stay in that era was nearly over. After a brief exchange with the scholar—whose name he only vaguely remembered as “Dong”—he’d hurriedly stashed the fans in storage and left.

Later, when he searched for notable “Dong” scholars from the Zhou Dynasty, he found records of literati, academicians, and officials, but none seemed to match the man he’d met.

These unsigned, hand-painted fans might have gathered dust in storage forever if he hadn’t rediscovered them now.

“Freebies!” Yan, never one to pass up a bargain, brightened at Lu Chen’s offer.

After all, they *had* spent money here today.

As VIP customers, wasn’t it only natural to get a little something extra?

Last month, she’d bought a double-sided embroidered handkerchief from the shop and spent weeks painstakingly converting it into a hand fan.

These folding fans were perfect—she could take one for herself and give one to Zhu Jue. The thought made her grin.

“They’ve got calligraphy and paintings on them.”

“Hey, should we pick a few more? Boss Lu, how much do these cost?” she asked.

Folding fans like these didn’t seem expensive—bamboo or ebony frames, nothing like ivory or jade. Back in high school, during charity sales, Yan and Zhu Jue had contributed their own calligraphy bookmarks and hand-painted fans.

Small items like these were handy to have around—useful for summer breezes, photo props, or even as tasteful gifts.

Lu Chen did a quick mental calculation: factoring in the cost of the fan blanks, pigments, and the mechanical watch he’d traded away, fifty yuan per fan seemed reasonable, didn’t it?

Street vendors nowadays sold hand-painted calligraphy fans for twenty or thirty yuan. His were *genuine* antiques—handcrafted by a Zhou Dynasty scholar, from the frames to the pigments. Fifty yuan wasn’t too much to ask.

“Fifty per fan,” he announced.

Yan rubbed her chin. The price was fair. Both she and Zhu Jue had practiced calligraphy since childhood, and the skill evident in these fans suggested at least a decade of experience.

Even if the artist was unknown, the fact that they were *ancient* made fifty yuan a steal.

After splurging on those two outfits, what was a little extra?

She picked one with mountain landscapes, another with birds-and-flowers, one inscribed with poetry, and yet another with delicate ink washes.

At fifty yuan apiece, Yan suspected Lu Chen had probably scooped these up at a temple fair or bought out some struggling artist’s stall.

The consistent style of calligraphy and painting clearly pointed to a single creator.

“Jue, have you ever given your dormmates any gifts?” Yan suddenly wondered.

Zhu Jue thought for a moment. “Not really. Chu Shen often brings us food, Xiao Qingnang gives us acupuncture and massages, and Yuan Ye’s handed out comic con tickets. As for me, Yuan Ye, and Ye Ping’an—we mostly chip in for snacks and instant noodles.”

In a dorm full of growing boys, snacks and fruit were communal property. Late-night group instant noodle sessions—complete with eggs and extra toppings—were a ritual. Zhu Jue bought cup noodles, marinated eggs, and self-heating hot pots by the *case*.

“Hmm… Yuan Ye’s into cosplay, and Xiao Qingnang might appreciate a fan too. It’s a bit odd to gift fans in winter, but it’s the thought that counts.”

“Let’s pick a few more,” she decided.

As Yan and Zhu Jue browsed the fans, Lu Chen quietly sorted through items he’d brought back from a post-apocalyptic world.

When he pulled out a sleek silver pistol from a crate, Yan—now holding five fans—couldn’t look away.

Her eyes sparkled with excitement, but caution quickly tempered her expression.

She stared at Lu Chen, conflicted. “Boss Lu, we *don’t* deal in firearms here.”

“Isn’t ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‍your product range a little *too* eclectic?”

A *gun* in a corner shop? And not just any gun—this one had an unusual design, clearly not of this era. If it ended up in the wrong hands, the consequences could be disastrous.

“For ordinary people, it’s just a toy,” Lu Chen assured her.

He aimed the silver pistol and fired. A sharp *crack* echoed through the room—nothing more.

“Sound effects? A starter pistol?” Zhu Jue guessed.

Lu Chen shook his head. This was an air compression gun—a training tool for early-stage superhumans in that dystopian world. It helped them practice manipulating superpowers to fire compressed air projectiles.

But for regular people? Pulling the trigger just made a noise. It couldn’t even light a cigarette.

He’d kept it because the sleek, futuristic design—small enough to fit in a palm—made it a perfect prop for photos. Worthless in the apocalypse, but a premium aesthetic piece here.

“Try it yourselves,” he offered, handing it over under Yan’s skeptical gaze.

She hefted the lightweight pistol (noticeably less hefty than a real firearm), aimed at the door, and pulled the trigger.

*Bang!*

The sound was moderate, but nothing else happened.

Zhu Jue tested it twice more. In his hands, it *was* just a toy.

“So… what does it do for *non*-ordinary people?” Yan pressed.

Lu Chen smiled. “That’s a secret.”

Since Lu Chen now possessed the Dimensional Convenience Store, he couldn’t guarantee that no one else in this world had encountered similar extraordinary opportunities.

After all, from novels to movies, supernatural beings existed everywhere—what if he actually ran into someone with real abilities?

Still, the young couple before him clearly posed no threat. Like him, they could only produce harmless effects, but Lu Chen had no intention of revealing the truth.

“Weren’t you two here to study? Stop playing with the toy gun,” he urged.

“But time here isn’t wasted,” Yan said, blinking. The moment she and Zhu Jue stepped into the Dimensional Convenience Store, time outside stood still for them. Even if they spent hours idling or napping inside, it was all bonus time.

Of course, using it solely for that purpose would be a bit of a waste.

“But I have business hours,” Lu Chen replied.

On his first day back from the post-apocalyptic world, he hadn’t expected guests to arrive so quickly through the door. Fortunately, they were regulars who required no pretenses.

Yan and Zhu Jue stayed in the store for nearly five hours, even ordering takeout with Lu Chen.

“You can actually get delivery here?!” Yan was stunned.

The Dimensional Convenience Store appeared unpredictably—there couldn’t possibly be a door suddenly materializing for the delivery person to drop off food, could there?

As it turned out, the riders from Blue Eats and Yellow Delivery took about half an hour to arrive.

Yan noticed the notes on their orders: hers and Zhu Jue’s were from Blue Eats, while Lu Chen’s was from Yellow Delivery.

“Void takeout? Have the rivalries between Blue and Yellow delivery riders reached the dimensional level?”

“Your imagination is impressive,” Lu Chen remarked dryly.

In reality, there were no interdimensional delivery riders—the girl was overthinking it. The reason takeout could arrive was simple: the door of the Dimensional Convenience Store could appear anywhere or replace any existing door in the world.

So when placing the order, Lu Chen had merely shifted the portal to his apartment’s entrance, using his home address—the third-floor walk-up—and instructing the rider to leave it by the door. He only needed to open it to retrieve the food.

But Lu Chen didn’t elaborate further. As the proprietor of this mysterious shop, he needed to maintain an air of enigma.

By the time Yan and Zhu Jue finished studying and Lu Chen prepared to close, the two stepped back onto their campus path, carrying bags filled to the brim.

Two sets of clothes, a dozen folding fans, and one toy pistol—purely for show.

“When we visit Mountain City, we can bring this for some sci-fi-themed photos,” Yan justified her purchase of the pretty little gun.

Who didn’t love stylish little trinkets? This one was even cooler than the pistols she’d seen female spies wield in movies!

After some discussion, Zhu Jue took both outfits since his suitcase had more space, while they split the fans evenly.

“Too bad Lu Chen said the wooden door won’t reappear,” Yan sighed.

What a shame—they’d stumbled upon a glitch in space-time, only to exploit it for one afternoon.

But it couldn’t be helped. Lu Chen had explained that as long as they remained inside, no new customers could enter. If they kept returning, they’d disrupt the store’s normal operations.

“We can’t afford to cover the store’s daily revenue,” Zhu Jue pointed out.

Occupying the shop for a full day would mean compensating for lost business—something they couldn’t afford. Naturally, they couldn’t keep exploiting this loophole.

“Half a day is already lucky!” Yan quickly adjusted her mindset.

“Whatever we got is pure profit. We should be content.” Her spirits lifted again.

With their backpacks already full and their new purchases adding to the load, the weight on their shoulders increased significantly. Since they’d finished the day’s remaining study quota inside the store—effectively gaining half a day for free—they headed straight back to their dorms.

In Girls’ Dorm 320, Yan placed the silver toy pistol on her desk and finally relieved herself of the heavy bags.

Unnoticed by her, the moment she pulled the “toy gun” from her bag, Yi Zhi’s gaze locked onto it.

Meanwhile, in Boys’ Dorm 414...

When Xiao Qingnang unfolded the folding fan Zhu Jue handed him, he froze.

The artistry on the fan looked eerily familiar.