At the sight of the dilapidated shack, Shen Qinghuan was instantly hit by a wave of memories from her previous life—a life of extravagant luxury.
In her past life, she had lived in a private island villa with its own pool. Outside her floor-to-ceiling windows were nothing but clear blue skies and turquoise seas; at night, she could lie in her courtyard and watch the stars. She had driven limited-edition sports cars, the weight of the steering wheel firm and luxurious in her hands, the thrill of the engine’s roar beneath her foot an absolute rush. The numbers in her bank accounts had been so long she couldn’t even count the zeros; a single handbag she’d bought on a whim cost more than what an average person earned in a lifetime.
Looking back at this rotting wooden shack, her eyes reddened instantly. She staggered back, collapsed onto the splintered steps of the shack, and slapped her thighs, letting out a wail.
“Oh, heavens! What kind of sin did I commit to deserve this?”
Gone were the island villa, the sports cars, and the billions in assets. If she had known that starting a business—or whatever had led her here—would end so tragically, she would have rather just ended it all and saved herself the suffering in this godforsaken place. She sobbed heart-wrenchingly, tears and snot streaming down her face. The more she thought about it, the more wronged she felt. In the end, she simply sprawled on the ground, kicking her legs and throwing a tantrum like a three-year-old child.
“I want my villa! I want my sports cars! I want my designer bags!”
Just then, a crisp, teasing giggle suddenly erupted in the vast, empty space. The sound was high-pitched and milky, exactly like a toddler who had just learned to talk.
Shen Qinghuan froze, her wailing cutting off instantly.
“Who’s there?”
She jerked her head up, wiping away the mess on her face, and scanned her surroundings warily. “Show yourself! Don’t you dare play ghost in the shadows!”
The space remained quiet, save for the soft gurgle of the spiritual spring and the rustle of the wind across the black soil. Shen Qinghuan frowned. Did I cry so hard that I’m hallucinating?
Just as she was about to stand up, the milky voice returned, this time dripping with sarcasm: “Heh, this owner is hilarious. She cries like a little baby. She’s even louder than the kittens I’ve seen!”
Shen Qinghuan’s hair stood on end, and goosebumps broke out across her skin. This was definitely not an auditory hallucination. She had just bound this space; how could there be anyone else here? Could it be… a ghost?
Her face turned deathly pale. She had been fearless in her past life, having weathered all kinds of storms, but this was the ancient era—a time where legends of spirits were taken seriously. The original owner of this body had been timid, and the body’s instinctive reaction caused her to shudder. Her legs felt weak. She swallowed hard, forced herself to find some courage, and yelled, “Who is it? If you have the guts, come out! Stop hiding and trying to scare people!”
No sooner had she finished speaking than a gust of eerie wind blew, making the thatch on the roof rustle. A cold shiver ran down her spine. Then, a ghostly, aggrieved voice drifted toward her: “I died so miserably… I was never even fed. How pitiful! Does anyone have a biscuit? If not, I’m going to cry right in front of you!”
Shen Qinghuan was terrified. She scrambled up from the ground, darted behind the shack, and covered her ears. “I didn’t hear anything! I didn’t see anything! Listen, spirit, if you’re looking for someone, don’t come looking for me! Go find the people who actually harmed you!”
She muttered to herself, cursing her bad luck. She’d just transmigrated, killed a wicked servant, and now she was dealing with a ghost. Original owner, just how many sins did you commit in your life?
After hiding for a while, the mournful voice stopped. Shen Qinghuan slowly poked her head out, peering around as cautiously as a thief.
That was when she caught sight of a small, furry creature sitting on the steps of the shack. It was only about the size of a palm, covered in black-and-white fluff. Its round head featured two tiny, tufted ears, and its large, ink-black eyes—bright as grapes—were fixated on her hiding spot. It was munching on the crumbs of the compressed biscuit she had dropped during her tantrum.
It’s a red panda!
Shen Qinghuan’s eyes widened, her jaw dropping. The biscuit in her hand clattered to the ground. Why would a red panda be in this desolate space? And why did this creature’s expression look so sly, almost like a little fox?
Seeing her peek out, the red panda held the biscuit crumb in its mouth and scurried toward the back of the shack with its stubby legs, peeking around the corner with its round head. It let out a soft, adorable whimpering sound, its little tail wagging. It was so cute it felt like a critical hit to her heart.
All her fear vanished instantly. “So cute… absolutely adorable!”
Her heart softened completely. She squatted down and reached out a hand tentatively. “Little one, whose pet are you? How did you get here?”
The red panda retreated warily, dropping the crumb. It stared at the snack, then looked up at Shen Qinghuan with those large, round eyes filling with tears. Giant, bead-like droplets began to fall, making it look so pathetic that Shen Qinghuan’s heart melted.
“Oh, oh, oh! Don’t cry, don’t cry!” Shen Qinghuan quickly pulled another biscuit from the warehouse, squatted down, and offered it to the creature. “Here, you can have it. Nobody is going to snatch it from you.”
The red panda stared at the biscuit for a long time, eyeing Shen Qinghuan with suspicion. Once it was sure she meant no harm, it extended a tiny paw, grabbed the biscuit, and darted onto a nearby rock. It turned its back to her, munching away happily, its little head bobbing with every bite.
Seeing its frantic, gluttonous pace, Shen Qinghuan couldn’t help but laugh. Just as she was about to speak, the red panda stopped, turned around with half a biscuit still in its mouth, and said in a milky, high-pitched voice:
“Owner, owner! I’m not a spirit or a ghost. I am the Space Spirit!”
Shen Qinghuan nearly face-planted. Her eyes bulged. A talking red panda that was also a space spirit? This “golden finger” was way too overpowered—this was even better than having a cheat code!
The red panda, seeing her shock, smugly shook its head and continued snacking. “Hehe, sorry, I was just teasing you. Don’t be mad!”