By sunrise on Sunday, golden light filtered through the blinds, painting soft lines across Eli's face. For the first time in weeks, he woke up without an alarm and without an ache in his back.
The new queen-sized mattress beneath him felt like it had been made out of clouds. Firm but forgiving. His limbs were no longer cramped or stiff, and for once, he hadn't dreamed of cold restaurant floors or narrow old bunk beds.
He lay there for a moment, soaking in the unfamiliar comfort, then sat up with a stretch and a yawn.
"Okay," he muttered to himself, cracking his knuckles. "Let's start the day."
His morning routine followed like clockwork: cold water splashed over his face, steam curling from a quick shower, the scent of mint from his toothbrush. He threw on a loose T-shirt and joggers, padded barefoot into the kitchen, and grabbed a banana from the counter.
The apartment was quiet, sunlight spilling onto the wooden floor of the living room. In the distance, he could hear faint traffic from Main Street—Briggon waking up.
Eli sat by the kitchen island and tapped open the System Interface on his phone. A soft blue glow lit up the screen as the system signed him in with a chime.
Sign inBank Balance: 113,000 yuan
He exhaled slowly. The number had dipped after yesterday's spending spree—new shoes, fresh clothes, dinner with Jin—but it was still a relief to see five digits.
He looked around the apartment. Still half-full of moving boxes and scattered plastic wrap. But it was theirs. Their new beginning. Their new routine.
And the city outside was waiting.
It started slowly—small details that most might've brushed off. A glossy flyer stuck to a streetlamp here, a high-quality poster tucked under a windshield there. They were printed on thick, luxurious paper that shimmered faintly under light. Bold gold lettering practically shouted:
"SuperMartX: Opening This Monday. Be There First. Win Big."
At first, it was just another corporate stunt. According to Mr Duan, Briggon had seen its share of flashy newcomers, cafés that vanished in three months, gyms that closed before their first anniversary. But this felt different. Bigger. More serious.
Then came the buses.
They rolled through the district like an army marching down a street. Massive, full-wrap advertisements covered every inch—'impossibly polished fruits, sleek electronics, airbrushed models pushing shiny carts down aisles brighter than day'. Loudspeakers played a looping jingle that entered into your head whether you wanted it or not.
"SuperMartX! SuperMartX! Save more, live bold—everything you need, nothing you don't!"
It played on repeat until the words lost meaning, until even the street cats seemed to twitch their ears at the sound.
Digital billboards near the busiest intersections began flashing countdowns in urgent red:
"2 DAYS TO GO — GRAND OPENING: MONDAY.""LIMITED GIVEAWAYS. FIRST 500 CUSTOMERS GET FREE SMARTPHONES.""NEW ERA OF SHOPPING ARRIVES IN BRIGGON."
Eli noticed the change almost immediately. On their walk to the Corner Pocket that Saturday morning, he and Jin passed by no fewer than seven different advertisements. People were whispering on the sidewalk, heads turning to stare at the gleaming SuperMartX delivery trucks that seemed to multiply by the hour.
"Looks like they're serious," Jin muttered, adjusting the strap on his bag.
"Yeah," Eli replied, frowning as another bus passed by, blaring the jingle. "Too serious."
Even the Corner Pocket wasn't untouched. Flyers had somehow made it inside—left on the produce racks, tucked under doormats, slipped into the bulletin board near the checkout counter. Mr. Duan had a stack of them on the counter, face down like he couldn't decide whether to shred them or study them.
"It's starting," he said quietly, glancing out the window as another SuperMartX ad truck passed. "They're not just opening a store, Eli. They're staging a takeover."
Eli didn't respond right away. He looked around the Corner Pocket—at the humming fridge near the dairy section, at the ceiling fans that clattered faintly when the wind shifted, at the worn but familiar tile floors.
Then he looked out the window again.
Across the street, workers in slick uniforms were hanging up a 40-foot banner across the newly finished SuperMartX building. It caught the light like a blade.
OPENING DAY: THIS MONDAYPRICES YOU CAN'T BEAT. A FUTURE YOU CAN'T IGNORE.
At The Corner Pocket, the effect was immediate. That morning, foot traffic slowed, even among the regulars. Mrs. Yin, a quiet widow who always bought the same brand of rice every week, lingered longer than usual at the checkout.
"You heard about the new place?" she asked Eli as he packed her groceries.
"Yeah," Eli said, forcing a smile. "Hard to miss."
She hesitated. "Just going to take a look next week. Just to see."
Eli nodded politely, but a knot had already formed in his stomach.
Back at the counter, Mr. Duan grunted as he adjusted the shop's old fan. "Hype. That's what they're selling."
"People like shiny things," Eli muttered, watching a group of teenagers take selfies outside a freshly plastered SuperMartX poster.
"They'll come back once the shine fades," Mr. Duan said, more to himself than anyone else.
But by mid-afternoon, even Jin noticed the difference.
"I saw three of our regulars standing in line for that SuperMartX gift box," he said while restocking snacks. "They were giving out free ramen just for scanning a QR code."
Eli exhaled slowly. "Smart. Hook 'em early. They're not just selling food—they're selling convenience and spectacle."
That evening, social media made it worse. Sponsored posts popped up on every feed—short, high-def videos of influencers dancing in front of SuperMartX banners, swiping through "haul" videos of budget finds, every caption a variation of:
"Why I'll never shop at small stores again 🤷♀️ #SmartAtSuperMartX"
Jin scrolled through them on his phone at dinner. "They're getting the young people and student"
Eli leaned back in his chair. "We can't compete on flashiness... but maybe we can remind people why small matters."
"Like what?" Jin asked.
"Like trust," Eli replied. "And stories. And the fact that we actually see the people who walk through our door."
"While that may work on Older people, the younger ones may not be swayed, by that" Jin said
By nightfall, The Corner Pocket felt quieter than usual. The lights buzzed overhead. Mr. Duan wiped the counters three times without needing to.
Outside, a delivery truck for SuperMartX idled at the traffic light, its LED banner scrolling silently:
"We're almost here, Briggon. Are you ready?"
Eli watched it through the window. He didn't say anything, but deep down, he knew :The war hadn't started yet. But the campaign was already underway.