“Shh!”
Qiao Xin clutched her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. “You scared the life out of me! What are you doing here?”
In the bright moonlight, Lin Qing saw her roll her eyes. He offered an innocent, sheepish smile—he’d been too anxious to get to her, and the sudden appearance had obviously startled her.
“My fault, my fault. I’ll let you scold me later, but for now, use this.” Lin Qing gave a grin and shook a small paper packet in front of her.
Qiao Xin didn’t have time to argue. “What is it?”
“A sleeping powder. I bought it in the county town.”
Qiao Xin stepped back and nodded toward the window, signaling him to proceed.
Lin Qing gave a doting smile. Following the merchant’s instructions, he crept to the open window, sprinkled the powder inside, held his breath, and ducked aside with Qiao Xin. To be safe, he also dusted the powder into the rooms belonging to the second and third branches—if someone accidentally made a noise and woke up, it would ruin everything.
He returned to Qiao Xin and handed her a pill, taking one himself. It was the antidote. He’d already tested it on a rabbit he’d caught to ensure it was safe before bringing it along. Qiao Xin inspected it briefly, then swallowed it without hesitation.
Seconds after they finished, the snoring inside ceased, and the house fell into an eerie, total silence. They pushed the door open. Lin Qing checked on the two figures slumped on the bed—they were dead to the world. Only then did Qiao Xin take out a flashlight; despite the moonlight, it was too dim to search properly.
They worked quickly. The furnishings were simple: a waist-high cupboard, a table, four benches, and another cabinet on the kang (heated brick bed). Everything was cluttered with random debris.
With a firm tug, Lin Qing snapped the lock on the cupboard. Inside, they found a ten-pound bag of white flour, five pounds of refined rice, two large bags of brown rice, thirty eggs, a pack of brown sugar, a slab of cured bacon, and a bag of dried-out pastries.
Qiao Xin didn’t leave a single item behind. Whether she ate it or not, she wasn’t leaving it for them. Everything vanished into her space.
In the cupboard on the kang, they found five taels of silver in small pieces and several hundred copper coins. Another parcel contained a pair of silver earrings, a silver bracelet, and a silver hairpin. But still, there was no sign of the household registration papers.
They tore the bed apart, but found nothing. Finally, Lin Qing discovered a ceramic jar tucked into the deepest corner of the room. Inside were the household registration papers for the entire family, along with a fifty-tael silver banknote and over thirty taels of loose silver.
In Sanya’s memories, she had never known her family was this wealthy. She had only known hunger. Whenever she tried to eat, she was met with a beating and a curse from Madame Wang. In her early childhood, her mother had hidden scraps for her, but after she passed, Sanya had lived in a state of constant, gnawing starvation.
Without a word, Qiao Xin swept it all into her space. With the household registration in hand, their future travels would be much easier. Satisfied that nothing remained in the bedroom, they headed to the cellar. It was stocked with over a thousand pounds of brown rice and eight jars of Madame Wang’s pickled vegetables. With a wave of her hand, Qiao Xin moved it all into the space.
They made a final sweep of the kitchen. Beyond some coarse salt and two large iron pots, there was little of value besides firewood. It dawned on Qiao Xin then: Madame Wang controlled every grain in the house, doling out rations to her daughters-in-law only when it was time to cook.
Despite the drought lasting over two years, the Qiao house was still sitting on such wealth and grain—they were, without a doubt, the richest family in the village.
Old Man Qiao, whose given name was Qiao Fugui, was the younger brother of the village chief, Qiao Fuyao, which certainly came with its share of favors. But more importantly, his eldest son, Qiao Dawang, was a martial escort in the county town. He had moved his family there years ago, yet he still sent home a handsome sum of silver every year.
The second son, Qiao Dashan, the third, Qiao Dahe, and the fourth—Sanya’s father—had all stayed behind to farm the land and serve the elderly parents. The youngest, Qiao Dabaon, was the apple of the couple’s eye. They had sent him to a private school at seven; renamed Qiao Shijie, he had passed the imperial examination to become a tongsheng (scholar) at fifteen. Now twenty, he lived in town with his wife and two-year-old son to facilitate his studies.
Since the passing of Qiao’s fourth son and his wife, the household had consisted of the elder couple, Qiao and his wife Madame Wang, their second son’s family of five, their third son’s family of four, and young Qiao Sanya.
Qiao Xin and Lin Qing made a clean sweep of the entire compound. The five chickens in the backyard and the two fat hogs—all of which Qiao Sanya had raised with her own blood and sweat—were whisked away into the mountains inside Qiao Xin’s space. They didn’t bother checking the other bedrooms; there was likely nothing of value, and they had no time to waste.
It hadn’t taken long at all. Qiao Xin insisted that Lin Qing head back so he could get some sleep. She, however, had to stay; they were still stuck in the village until the migration began. If she disappeared with him now, the villagers would immediately tip off Madame Wang, and their peace would be shattered. Lin Qing understood the logic, though he was reluctant to part ways. With a final, lingering look and a warning to stay safe, he left.
Qiao Xin returned to the woodshed and collapsed onto the straw. She hadn’t rested properly since transmigrating that morning, and were it not for the vitality of the stream water, she likely would have collapsed long ago. Tonight, she felt a profound sense of ease. She drifted off, dreamless.
There were no roosters to crow in the backyard, and combined with the lingering effects of the sleeping powder, the entire Qiao household slept until the sun was high in the sky.
Qiao Xin was jolted awake by a piercing, shrill scream. It seemed Madame Wang had discovered her loss.
“Oh, Heaven have mercy! Which cursed, thieving bastard stole my grain? It’s all gone! Every last bit! May whoever did this suffer a miserable death, oh, woe is me!” Madame Wang sat in the middle of the courtyard, wailing with every ounce of her strength. That was the life’s savings she had scraped together over half a lifetime. It was all gone.
Old Man Qiao stepped out of his room, his face grim. The families from the second and third branches emerged as well, still oblivious to the disaster. He Shi and Liu Shi, realizing how late it was, didn’t dare approach; they exchanged a quick look and scurried toward the kitchen.
Qiao the Second approached his father cautiously. “Father, what’s wrong with Mother? What happened?”
Old Man Qiao kept his head down, deep in thought. After a moment, he commanded, “Go. Fetch your uncle. Tell him our home has been burglarized.”
“Burglarized?” The second and third sons cried out in unison, unable to fathom the idea.
Old Man Qiao shot them a look of pure irritation and roared, “Are you still standing there? Do you want me to go myself?”
Qiao the Second didn’t dare ask another question; he turned and bolted out of the gate. Qiao the Third looked at his mother, who was still huddled on the ground, and tried to help her up. “Mother, get up first. Let’s see what’s actually missing. Who would dare come to our house to steal? Are you sure you aren’t mistaken?” He still couldn’t believe it. Their eldest brother was a martial escort, their youngest brother was a scholar, and their uncle was the village chief. Who in their right mind would target them?
Madame Wang ignored him, chanting mindlessly, “It’s gone, all gone! The grain and the silver—everything!”
When Qiao the Third heard the silver was missing, his eyes widened. Only then did he start to believe her. His mother was unreasonable, but silver was her lifeblood. If she was crying like this, she had truly been robbed.
He sprinted to the cellar. The trapdoor was open. He scrambled down the ladder, only to find the cellar completely hollow. It was empty. The harvest from the fields was gone, too. If they had no grain and no silver, how were they to survive? His legs turned to jelly, and he nearly collapsed right there on the floor.
“Enough! Stop that howling! Your uncle will be here soon—do you have no shame?”
Old Man Qiao’s bark jolted Madame Wang back to reality. She scrambled to her feet, though she couldn’t stop herself from muttering curses under her breath. Qiao the Third climbed out of the cellar, looking utterly hollowed out, on the verge of tears. “Mother, the grain is all gone. What are we going to do?”
Watching such a large, rugged man look so pathetic was both ridiculous and pitiable. Old Man Qiao gave him a sideways glance and turned away in disgust.
The pain of the loss was unbearable for Madame Wang, and her pent-up rage had to be released on someone. Suddenly, she remembered her usual outlet for frustration: beating and cursing Qiao Sanya. She had been wailing for so long, and that “dead girl” hadn’t even poked her head out of her room.
Fuming, she marched to the woodshed and kicked the already rickety door, sending it crashing inward. “Are you dead in there? What time do you think it is? Why aren’t you out here working? What, are you waiting for me to invite you out personally?”