She had it so rough.
Shen Sui was squatting beside her thatched hut, poking at a pile of rotten thatch she had just ripped off the roof with a stick.
Other people who transmigrated might have it bad, but at least they were sure to have one of life’s essentials—food, clothing, shelter, or transport. As for her, all she could do was stare helplessly at a thatched hut that could be blown away by a strong gust of wind at any moment.
Even the old man next door who collected garbage lived better than she did. Shen Sui shed two streams of tears, overcome with envy, jealousy, and resentment.
She still remembered the day she had first transmigrated. Unable to believe she had ended up in such a godforsaken place, she had opened and shut the door again and again to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
Just then, the old man next door had rubbed his bleary eyes and emerged from his little wooden hut. He told her to keep the door quieter and stop disturbing his sleep, then went straight back inside.
Shen Sui had stared blankly at the wooden sign hanging on the hut’s door. It was clearly weather-beaten, and its crooked lettering read:
GARBAGE RECYCLING.
Shen Sui: “…” Damn.
And don’t even get her started on food. In a place this remote, she barely knew where her next meal was coming from—and even when she did eat, she never got enough. If she hadn’t found a few large wild fruits a few days ago, she might have starved to death without even knowing how it happened.
Shen Sui seriously suspected she’d transmigrated here to survive in the wilderness. How else could her starting situation be this absurd?
Looking at the thatched hut teetering on the brink of collapse, Shen Sui couldn’t help feeling a wave of sadness. For the first time, she truly understood just how brilliant Du Fu’s famous poem, “Song of My Thatched Roof Blown Down by the Autumn Wind,” really was.
After yet another day without money for food, with starvation looming, Shen Sui was trying to think of a way not to starve to death when the door of the little wooden hut next door suddenly opened.
She jumped so hard her whole body shook. It couldn’t be helped. For the past two months, that garbage-collecting old man had kept appearing behind her without a sound, then gazing at her eerily. Even after she noticed him, he would give her a huge smile. It always made Shen Sui’s skin crawl.
The old man’s unusual behavior today put Shen Sui on guard. But he didn’t even show his face. He simply tossed a huge sack in her direction, and she had no idea what was inside.
Shen Sui: “…”
Wait, you collect garbage—and now you’re using my place as a dump?
Even so, Shen Sui caught the sack without thinking.
Maybe it was food.
Shen Sui still held on to a little hope.
But when she returned to her thatched hut and opened the sack, even that tiny bit of hope was crushed.
Damn it.
He’d given her a pile of battered books.
And they were yellowed, with curled-up edges, too.
Full of resentment, Shen Sui opened one of them. It was at least a way to learn about the world she was in. But the moment she turned to the first page, she froze.
The reason was simple: the page was covered in densely packed markings that resembled intricate patterns.
Shen Sui recognized them at once.
The orphanage where she’d lived in her previous life had been near an authentic Daoist temple. Thanks to that, she immediately recognized the markings as Daoist talismans.
Could this world have Daoism too?!
The realization perked Shen Sui right up, even though the talisman on the page was clearly far more complicated than the ones she had watched the temple’s Daoist priest draw with her own eyes.
Curious, Shen Sui traced the talisman on the page in her mind. She remembered the priest saying that talismans were secret treasures that connected people with the gods, and that one must never draw them carelessly.
As the saying went, “Draw a talisman without knowing the knack, and ghosts and gods will laugh; draw one knowing the knack, and ghosts and gods will cry out in fright.” It was also essential to focus without distraction and draw the talisman in a single stroke.
Shen Sui had taken the priest’s warning to heart. Whenever she saw a talisman, she only dared trace it once in her mind, just to scratch that itch.
But this time, tracing it left Shen Sui utterly stunned. The talisman had been stamped into her mind as firmly as a brand.
Maybe the talismans in this world were different…
Just then, Shen Sui sensed an obscure, ancient aura emerging from the talisman on the page she was looking at. Then it gradually disappeared.
Feeling that something was strange, Shen Sui looked down. In the blank space beneath the talisman, five tiny characters had suddenly appeared, neatly written in small regular script: Taishang Qingxin Talisman.
Well, well.
Shen Sui raised an eyebrow. Suddenly, she understood the talisman perfectly.
The Taishang Qingxin Talisman, huh…
She didn’t understand it at all.
But that didn’t stop her from turning the page. Amused with herself, Shen Sui found another complex, obscure talisman on the next page. She traced that one in her mind, too, and once again, the new talisman was branded firmly into her memory.
Perhaps because she was so focused, Shen Sui stopped feeling hungry for a while. She couldn’t help murmuring to herself, “Food for the mind is still food, after all.”
Shen Sui spent the entire afternoon and evening tracing the talismans in the whole sack of books. By then, her mind held more than ten thousand pages’ worth of unique talismans.
When Shen Sui finished tracing the talisman on the final page, she suddenly felt a sharp pain in the fingertip holding the page. The instant she released it with a wince, the book in her hand—and all the books she had already finished reading—spontaneously caught fire.
Shen Sui stared blankly at the sight. Only after the books had burned to ash and the eerie flames had disappeared did she let out a breath, feeling rather moved.
“I can’t believe this world has developed so far. Even when a fire breaks out, it doesn’t set a thatched hut alight. That’s incredible.”
Only then did Shen Sui realize how ravenous she was. She was just about to go out in search of food when, as soon as she opened the door, she stepped on something soft.
Shen Sui: “…”
Seriously? She couldn’t even step outside?
Stiff with apprehension, Shen Sui looked down at what she had stepped on. When she saw it, she immediately breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness—it was an animal hide.
…Wait.
Where had an animal hide come from, right in front of her thatched hut? Even a strong wind couldn’t blow an animal hide here.
Shen Sui looked around and spotted only a few little squirrels clutching nuts on the branches of the pine tree by her doorway, staring at her with round eyes.
Shen Sui: “…”
She suddenly really wanted some nuts.
Perhaps she was looking at them too hungrily, because the little squirrels immediately darted into the woods.
Shen Sui felt rather disappointed. She crouched down and picked up the animal hide.
It was about the size of a book. Shen Sui shook it open, already wondering how much she could sell it for, when she noticed there were words on the inside.
Words…
Shen Sui stared at the inside of the hide in utter confusion. There were black, crooked lines, more tangled than spring earthworms or autumn snakes.
Wait, were these actually words?
How come she couldn’t understand a single one?