After relaxing, Yu Qiu finally tasted the true flavor of the red fruit.
Although in her previous life—if she could still call it that—she had eaten them before, they had never tasted as good as the one in her hand now.
As soon as it touched her lips, juice overflowed, fragrance burst across her tongue, and the sweet and sour flavor lingered on her cheeks. The flesh was soft and tender, making her narrow her eyes in contentment.
“Delicious!” Her voice, sweet yet still carrying a youthful tone, echoed inside the burrow. With the moisture from the fruit easing her throat, her hoarseness disappeared, and her voice returned to its original clarity.
Yu Qiu opened her eyes, light filling them. On her thin, sallow face, that brightness made her appear a little more alive.
But the light faded in an instant, as memories surfaced in her mind.
Complicated emotions welled up. As expected, she really had crossed into another world. She could not even describe how she felt.
This new world, to Yu Qiu, was full of strangeness.
It was nowhere to be found in any historical record.
Strange, because according to memory, this world resembled the ancient era of her original timeline in many ways. The difference was that here, a world-ending calamity had once occurred.
It was said that three hundred years ago, on a certain day, daylight suddenly turned dark. The entire world was shrouded in dense fog, where one could barely see three feet ahead. From within the fog came screams, roars, despair, fury, and unwilling cries that lasted for over a month—until the fog finally lifted.
After the calamity, only a handful of living beings survived, less than one-tenth of all life. Besides humans, every other creature had mutated to varying degrees.
Later generations called this the “Heaven’s Extinction Calamity.”
Now, three hundred years had passed since that event. The territory that humans had once lost to mutant beasts had slowly been reclaimed, order was gradually restored, and humanity had developed new rules for survival.
Because of the mutations, edible foods had also changed.
After three centuries of trial and error—and countless deaths—people compiled a single “Food Record.”
But now, that record was held only by the lords of the nine great cities. For others, catching even a glimpse of it was nearly impossible.
If one wished to know more about what foods were safe, one had to obediently toil and suffer.
So long as one endured hardship, one might gain knowledge of edible food types. Naturally, no one was willing to risk their lives by testing what was safe to eat and what was not.
Each year, the lords of the nine cities would distribute a type of food seed or announce one new edible species, along with instructions for feeding and domesticating livestock.
Since the founding of the cities a hundred years ago, dozens of edible food types had been announced. As for livestock, only one method was shared:
Mutated chickens, once captured alive, must have their wing bones broken to tame them. Without this, they remained wild and unmanageable.
Thus, ordinary folk could raise only chickens. But the wealthy within the cities owned handbooks detailing more than a dozen kinds of poultry and livestock.
This world had no emperor, only city lords. Nine cities, nine rulers. City lords could legislate, conscript, and tax—no different from emperors.
The only difference was that, unlike a kingdom with one sovereign, here there were nine.
For commoners to gain residency within a city, there were only two paths.
One: achieve military merit. Join the army, slay beasts, accumulate battle achievements. Reach a certain rank, receive an official post and a home, and earn the right to live in the city.
Two: establish a livelihood. Engage in trade—the more one knew of edible foods, the better the business. The more one knew of taming methods, the more prosperous the trade. After amassing sufficient wealth, one could purchase a residency quota and move one’s family into the city.
Of course, buying the quota only granted permission to live there. Housing itself still needed to be purchased separately.
Thus, the city dwellers were mostly wealthy merchants.
Yu Qiu tilted her small head, thoughtful.
“Though it’s still an apocalypse, it’s completely different,” she murmured in her sweet voice. “But this original host…”
The original owner of this body was also a pitiful girl, only fifteen years old. Her mother had died young, her father did not care for her, and her stepmother was cruel.
Her father and stepmother planned to sell her as a concubine to a wealthy merchant, using the silver to fund the schooling of the stepmother’s two sons.
That merchant already had eighteen concubines, but only three remained alive. No rumors were needed to know what awaited her—sooner or later, she would be tormented to death.
The only one who could have protected her, her elder brother, had been sent away two years ago. Her father had bribed officials to erase his name from the family register, forcing the underaged boy to take his place in military conscription.
From then on, no one remained to shield her.
The original host refused to be a concubine and refused to die. The night she learned of it, she fled under the cover of darkness.
By chance, she managed to avoid danger along the road and stumbled upon a group of villagers being forcibly repatriated to their homeland. After days of hiding and fleeing, her ragged appearance required no further disguise, and she slipped into the migrant group unnoticed.
The villagers, seeing only a young girl with no threat, did not drive her away.
In this world, the greatest scarcity was food.
Though greenery and wild fruits lined the roadside, none dared eat them, for they were not among the officially announced edible species.
Food was precious. Even with silver, it could not always be bought.
After days of hunger, exhaustion from travel, and desperation, the original host did not think long before selling herself.
She was purchased by a middle-aged woman who claimed poor health and an inability to care for her two children. After observing the girl for several days and seeing her kind heart, the woman decided to bring her in to help.
The girl agreed—first, because of her soft heart. If no one cared for the two children, they would not survive long. Second, because she needed household registration papers. Alone, she could not survive in this world. She did not fear hardship, only wished for a stable life.
The woman, seeing her consent, had her name and age added to the household registry by a fellow villager. It was entered under the record of the woman’s deceased eldest son’s wife, whose name had not yet been struck off.
Thus, the girl received a bag of grain, became a widow at fifteen, and was registered as part of Qingshan Village.
The villagers of Qingshan had been forcibly repatriated. Years ago, a beast attack had forced them to flee. After reclaiming new land and applying for settlement rights, they were ordered back to their original home instead.
Returning granted them fields and housing, so long as they filed at the county office.
To resist meant becoming “hidden households” with no registration, forced to survive in the mountains. But with beasts rampant there, ordinary people stood no chance.
The original host ended up in the mountains because several young men had joined the group—and set their sights on her.
They were fierce and thuggish, clearly troublemakers. Once among the group, their gazes swept over everyone, then locked onto her. Sharing looks, they approached.
Most of the migrants were elderly, women, and children, with few strong men. Not wanting to endanger others, she excused herself to relieve herself, refused company, and—without even daring to take the grain she had just earned—fled into the mountains.
The young men chased her to the foothills but dared not pursue further.
She, however, did not dare stop. Only when her body gave out did she collapse. Before she could catch her breath, a giant beast appeared and struck her with a claw, flinging her several meters away. Three gashes tore deep into her flesh, ribs and arm shattered, blood sprayed from her lips—and before the pain could even register, she died.
When she opened her eyes again, it was Yu Qiu—who had just been bitten to death by zombies.
Yu Qiu sighed deeply.
Coincidentally, the original host shared her name. Born on the day of the Start of Autumn, the illiterate villagers had simply chosen “Qiu” (Autumn) as her name.
What a pity, though—the beasts of this world carried no energy cores. Her powers could only be restored with red fruits and similar foods, never advanced.
“Best not to be greedy,” Yu Qiu muttered lightly, amused at herself.
After all, in a world without abilities, even her weakest stage—first rank—was enough to guarantee survival. And once she recovered to her peak, she could reach near the level of a high-tier ability user.
Now that she understood this world, Yu Qiu knew she could protect herself. Even if she encountered a beast, she might not win, but she could certainly escape.
Looking down at her frail, emaciated body, she thought of the original girl’s desperate struggle to live, and sighed again.
“I should live well.”
She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart. Rising to her feet, she smiled.
“For your sake, I will live well.”
Leaving her shelter, Yu Qiu stepped into the lush green forest, walking toward the foot of the mountain.