She didn’t retreat into her spatial dimension just yet, heading straight for her next destination instead.
This was another location mentioned in her grandfather’s notes: a sprawling, three-courtyard traditional residence.
Surprising her, no squatters had moved in—the gate still bore its original lock. Though she couldn’t quite fathom why it had remained untouched, she wasn’t about to waste time pondering it.
Confirming the surrounding street was deserted, Wen Ya unlocked the gate and slipped inside.
Everything within remained entirely undisturbed. While the luck of it baffled her, nothing was going to stop her from reaching her target.
Heading straight for the kitchen, she set the heavy iron wok aside and reached into the hollow space behind the stove. Feeling along the brickwork beneath the chimney flue, her fingers caught a small protrusion.
Pressing it down firmly, a hidden trapdoor swung open in the wall.
Wen Ya produced a collapsible ladder from her spatial dimension, extended it down the shaft, and carefully climbed down.
The layout mirrored the previous stash. Descending into a cellar-like chamber, she found three small, ornate wooden chests sitting in the center.
After sweeping the chests into her space, she pulled out her shovel and began digging near the base of the ladder. If not for the spirit spring water constantly rejuvenating her stamina, she would have collapsed from sheer exhaustion long ago.
After a few minutes of steady shoveling, her blade struck metal. Clearing away the remaining dirt, she uncovered another locked iron trapdoor.
Unlocking it with a key from her grandfather’s bunch, she descended down a concrete stairwell into the primary vault—the chamber above had been nothing more than a decoy.
Rows of display shelves lined the underground room, holding dozens of intricately carved wooden caskets.
With time running short, she swept every last shelf and casket into her spatial dimension without pausing to examine the contents.
Restoring the trapdoor, soil, wok, and ladder to their exact original positions, she slipped out through the courtyard gate and fled into the city streets.
Ducking into a quiet, empty alleyway, she changed her clothes and disguise before heading home.
Dusk was falling, and she needed to be back in time for dinner. She was careful to carry a bundle of essential supplies—purchased using the exact ration coupons her scum father had provided earlier that morning—so no one would question her whereabouts.
When she arrived, her father was already home, while Liu Min bustled about the kitchen preparing the meal.
Wen Ya stashed her new purchases in her bedroom and took a seat at the table.
Was Liu Min’s cooking terrible? Absolutely. But that wasn’t going to stop her from eating every bite—if she skipped the meal, it would only benefit the two leeches living under this roof. Besides, she hadn’t given them their daily dose of frustration yet; missing dinner was out of the question.
As the clock neared mealtime, her father sat across from her, feigning interest in an old newspaper. Wen Ya waited silently at the table. Seeing her there, her father offered no objection; after all, she was leaving for the countryside in a few days, and there was no telling if she would ever return.
When Liu Min brought the dishes to the table and spotted Wen Ya sitting serenely in her chair, a sudden spike of irritation flared in her chest.
I slave away at work all day, only to come home and serve this money-losing brat? It’s infuriating!
Lost in her annoyance, she slammed the dishes onto the table with an ungraceful clatter.
Both Wen Ya and her father snapped their gazes toward her. Catching their stares, Liu Min instantly softened her posture, offering a strained, delicate smile.
“I’m so sorry… my hands were trembling from how exhausting work was today.”
Hearing this, Wen Ya lowered her head, letting out a soft, heartbroken sigh.
“Sigh… if only someone had cared for me when I was lying injured, I might have recovered faster. Then I would have had the strength to help with the household chores today. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t gone out to buy supplies for the countryside, I could have stayed home to serve dinner.”
The moment her father heard the words injured and no one cared, his face turned stark white.
The memory of his recurring nightmares flashed through his mind. He whirled on Liu Min, his voice sharp with accusation.
“Didn’t you tell me you bandaged Xiuya’s wound that day? Why didn’t you do it? How dare you lie to me?!”
Wen Ya added fuel to the fire in a faint, trembling whisper:
“Because I’m not her biological daughter… whether I live or die doesn’t mean a thing to her.”
Her father’s eyes widened in shock. Though he desperately wanted a son, Wen Ya was still his flesh and blood—he had never intended for her to die.
(Had Wen Ya known his exact thoughts, she would have spat right in his face. A scumbag trying to play the benevolent patriarch was a laughable sight.)
Liu Min was practically vibrating with rage, but having spent years cultivating a delicate white-lotus persona in front of her husband, she had no choice but to swallow her anger.
“I… I was just so busy that day that it slipped my mind—”
“If it were your own son, you never would have forgotten,” Wen Ya murmured under her breath, just loud enough for both of them to hear. “I guess non-biological stepmothers really are different.”
Liu Min wanted nothing more than to leap across the table and gag her.
Having delivered her lines, Wen Ya quietly dug into her meal, while her father sat across from her with a thunderous expression.
The sight filled Wen Ya with secret joy. As long as they were miserable, she was thriving.
As she finished eating and stood up to leave, she turned to the kitchen with a sweet, polite smile.
“Don’t forget to boil my egg for breakfast tomorrow morning!”
Without waiting for a reply, she glided into her bedroom and locked the door behind her. In the dining area, Liu Min gripped her chopsticks so hard they nearly snapped in half.
Why was Wen Ya so persistent about boiled eggs? Simple: she was terrified Liu Min would spit in her food otherwise. In her past life, she had heard plenty of horror stories about disgruntled waitstaff spitting in customers’ meals. A shell-protected boiled egg was the only safe option.
Late that night, after the household had fallen fast asleep, Wen Ya sat up in bed.
Pressing her ear against the bedroom door, she listened closely. Satisfied that the hallway was silent, she unlatched her window, climbed out, and slipped into the darkness.
She needed to burn the joss paper for the original girl’s family—and burn enough of it to ensure they lived comfortably in the underworld.
Once she reached a quiet street, she pulled a standard bicycle from her spatial dimension and pedaled toward a deserted crossroads.
Arriving at an isolated intersection, she fetched a long wooden stick from her space and got to work.
Drawing a large circle on the ground with an opening facing east, she wrote the names of the deceased on the paper bundles, set them ablaze, and spoke softly into the quiet night air:
“Chen Xiuya… you, your mother, and your grandfather’s whole family should all be reunited by now, right?
I’m sending you plenty of ancestral money tonight. Eat well, drink well, and live comfortably over there. If you ever run short on funds, just visit me in my dreams, and I’ll burn more for you.
I will avenge you against that scumbag father of yours. I’ve already changed my name to take your mother’s surname—I’m called Wen Ya now. When I have children in the future, I’ll make sure one of them carries the Wen name so your grandfather’s lineage continues.
I’m also doing everything I can to reclaim your grandfather’s hidden assets so your future descendants can inherit them.
Oh, and whenever you’re bored over there, feel free to take a stroll through your father’s dreams. After all, he must miss you terribly.”
She lingered until every last sheet of paper turned to white ash, then mounted her bicycle and pedaled back.
Approaching her apartment building, she stashed the bike back into her spatial dimension, climbed back through her bedroom window, and latched it tight.
Her tasks complete, she drifted into a peaceful sleep.
What she didn’t know was that her scum father was, at that very moment, locked in a terrifying nightmare.
The original girl’s late mother had indeed paid him a visit—and when Wen Ya woke up the next morning, she was greeted by the sight of her father sporting a pair of dark, sunken eye circles.