"Hello, is this a shop?"
At the sound of the voice, Zuo Ci turned around and saw an elderly man standing behind him.
Since the shop was only in a middle-class neighborhood, the old man wasn't dressed like some high-flying professional. Still, his clothes were neat, and his thick beard and what little hair he had left were well groomed. He looked quite spry.
"Yes, sir. Is there anything you'd like to buy?"
Though it was a little unexpected, Zuo Ci figured he should offer a discount to his little shop's very first customer-a milestone worth commemorating.
Two percent off, then. Ah, I'm such a generous businessman.
"Ah, sorry. I'm not here to buy anything."
"Huh?"
Zuo Ci froze at those words. If you're not buying anything, what are you doing here?
Then he saw the old man pull out a gun and point it at him.
"Wow, a robbery..."
Zuo Ci was speechless. The first person to walk in after he opened wasn't a customer, but a robber. You've really outdone yourself, Gotham.
And seriously, sir, do you really need to dress so neatly just to rob someone?
"Have you ever tried breakdancing, sir?"
Question: when did a shop have the most customers?
When it first opened? When it held a sale?
No, no, neither of those was when a shop had the most customers. The correct answer was: when it held a grand-opening sale!
Combining things was a virtue. Sure, people had already abused the hell out of it, but there was no denying that it worked.
With the lure of a grand opening and two percent off everything, Zuo Ci had a steady stream of customers on his very first day in business.
And with customers spreading the word, he could safely expect plenty of foot traffic over the next few days, or even weeks. It might even increase.
"God, running a shop is exhausting."
The moon shone bright among the scattered stars. After seeing off his last customer, Zuo Ci slumped into the chair in front of the register, so exhausted he could barely catch his breath.
Zuo Ci had had an especially eventful day. He'd run into a bank robbery that morning, then rushed to a restaurant to deal with Joker. Once he'd finally sorted that out, he'd opened his shop without even stopping for lunch, then worked all the way until ten thirty at night-which was now.
A full ten hours of work. Even though Zuo Ci had specifically redeemed a basic physical enhancement to help him sell merchandise, he still felt like he couldn't take much more.
Actually, just selling goods would have been fine. But this was their beloved Gotham, after all. Petty thieves, professional scam artists looking to stage accidents, and armed robbers had arrived in a steady stream too.
They were easy to deal with, but they were still a real nuisance.
"Nope. I've got to find time to hire a couple of shop assistants, and soon. If I keep doing everything myself, I'll work myself to death."
Only after gulping down some ice-cold cola and letting out a thoroughly undignified burp did Zuo Ci feel a little better.
He'd planned to save a bit on staffing costs, but now it looked like that really wasn't an option.
Then again, can the people churned out by America's fun-first education system even do the math properly?
Right, I haven't tallied the accounts yet.
"System, how much did I make today?"
Opening another bottle of cola, Zuo Ci sprawled in his chair in a posture that would have earned him a smack from his mother and started spinning around.
[After deducting all costs, the shop's total net profit was $13,752.99.]
"Not bad. Pretty good, actually."
He'd thought he would make a few thousand dollars at most today. He hadn't expected to break ten thousand outright.
But it made sense when he thought about it. Any product he sold brought in dozens or even hundreds of times its cost. Even with low selling prices, he still made plenty, so that figure was perfectly reasonable.
And that was only half a day's business. Going forward, he might bring in twenty or even thirty thousand dollars a day.
"But that'll probably only last a few days. After that, I doubt the daily takings will be so high."
Shopping habits in Gotham-or rather, across America-were actually very different from those in China. Apart from certain specific items, people in China generally bought things as they needed them, rarely stocking up on huge quantities at home.
America was different. Many people here shopped for an entire household's needs for a week or even a month, buying everything in one trip and using it for a long time. Most of today's customers had been that type.
After hauling away bags and bags of goods today, they definitely wouldn't be back anytime soon. Even if they did return, they would only make small purchases, not spend nearly as much.
So he couldn't afford to be blindly optimistic.
[Robbery proceeds: $38,742.39.]
That made sense. This was Gotham, after all. There were just a few too many robbers.
Still, the robbers who dared to target a shop really were a cut above the ones roaming the streets. At least they had some money.
"All right, that's it for today. I'll eat something, tidy up, and get some sleep."
After casually tossing his empty cola can into the trash, Zuo Ci got up and grabbed a tub of instant noodles from a shelf, along with three braised eggs, two ham sausages, and a two-liter bottle of iced black tea.
Hehe, I'm really going to indulge tonight!
"Jingle~"
"Sorry, we're closed for today. If you want to buy something, come back tomorrow."
He had just put the noodles on to soak when the doorbell rang. Zuo Ci looked up and immediately pegged the newcomer as a gang member.
The man wore a crisp suit and gold-rimmed glasses on his smiling face. Zuo Ci couldn't tell what brand his watch was, but it certainly wasn't cheap.
No matter how you looked at him, he was dressed like a textbook elite professional. Only the gang tattoo on the back of his right hand gave away his identity.
What's a gang member doing in my grocery shop? I don't sell guns. Does he want to buy a watermelon knife and reenact the old-school days?
"Don't be so hasty, boss. You don't have any customers right now anyway. How about we chat for a bit?"
Ignoring Zuo Ci's excuse about closing, the newcomer leaned against the counter with a smile and politely took a cigar out of his jacket to offer him.
"Thanks, I don't smoke. If you have something to say, just say it. Both our time is valuable."
When the cigar was pushed back toward him, the man didn't get angry. He simply clipped its end, lit it, and started smoking.
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Jefferson. I'm with the Falcone Family."
As he spoke, he showed off the tattoo on the back of his hand through the swirling smoke, looking rather proud of it.
"Judging by your appearance, boss, you're not a Gotham local, are you?"
Jefferson leaned forward aggressively as he spoke, only to get a faceful of smoke.
"Spit it out already. If you've got hot air to blow, get it over with. Can you stop keeping me from my dinner?"
Zuo Ci had pulled a small electric fan out of somewhere and blew every last bit of that irritating cigar smoke straight back at Jefferson, sending him into a coughing fit.
"You... cough, cough. Since you like being so direct, I'll get straight to the point. If you want to open a shop in Gotham, it's very rude not to pay the 'Godfather' a visit. Understand, kid?"
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