After three straight days of high-intensity livestreaming, Jiang Yu felt like her entire body was about to fall apart.
She slept until she naturally woke up, her body still carrying a lingering soreness.
She rarely indulged herself like this—curled up in bed nibbling on the bread A-Wang had brought that morning, staring blankly out the window.
The sound of waves crashing against the rocks came in steady waves, rhythmic enough to be some kind of lullaby.
This was the first morning since arriving on the island where she had nothing to think about.
“Bang!”
The courtyard gate was shoved open roughly, and Aunt Lin’s booming voice arrived before she did, rattling the windows: “Selling all the good stuff for money, but can’t keep any for yourself? Get up now, lazing around like you don’t have any bones! Auntie’s going to teach you how to clean seafood!”
A large basin was set down heavily on the table, containing several lively mantis shrimp and a pile of scallops. They weren’t top-grade in appearance, but they were plenty lively.
Before Jiang Yu could react, Aunt Lin had already dragged her into the cramped kitchen.
“Watch closely now—mantis shrimp need to be cut open from the tail here, and the spikes on both the head and tail have to be removed, so they don’t poke your mouth when you eat!”
Aunt Lin’s hands moved quickly, scissors flying up and down.
“And this garlic—don’t chop it, you have to smash it with the flat of the blade!”
She placed a whole head of garlic on the cutting board, and with a dull thud, the cloves scattered, a sharp, pungent aroma bursting into the air.
That sound…
Jiang Yu’s hands froze mid-motion.
In her memory, in that locked little side room, she had listened to the same sounds coming from the main house’s kitchen.
The same dull thuds, again and again, through a wall—the clamor of a celebration banquet being prepared for her sister Jiang Yao, a liveliness she could never squeeze into.
“What are you spacing out for? Here, you try!”
Aunt Lin shoved the cleaver into her hand.
Jiang Yu snapped back to reality and mimicked Aunt Lin’s method of smashing garlic.
She had never done this before. Her force was uneven, and garlic bits flew everywhere.
The moment her focus slipped, the sharp blade grazed her fingertip, and a bloody gash immediately appeared.
“Aiyo, child!”
Aunt Lin gasped, snatched the cleaver away, and pulled Jiang Yu’s hand under the faucet, scolding as she did, “What a delicate miss you are—hands that have never touched a drop of kitchen water, can’t even handle a clove of garlic!”
But even as she said that, her washing motions were impossibly gentle.
Just then, A-Wang burst in like a gust of wind, his voice even louder than his mother’s: “Sister Jiang! Sister Jiang! I got you a new gadget!”
He held up a brand-new tripod like it was a treasure, the “29.9 free shipping” label on the packaging especially eye-catching. Seeing the scene before him, he immediately leaned in: “What happened? Why is your hand bleeding?”
Aunt Lin carefully dried Jiang Yu’s fingers while shooting her son an exasperated glare: “What are you yelling about! She’s just clumsy, that’s all.”
With that, she pulled a cartoon bear-patterned band-aid from her pocket and carefully applied it to Jiang Yu’s wound.
A faint, cool sting touched her fingertip, along with a strange warmth—the feeling of being carefully tended to.
Jiang Yu lowered her eyes, looking at that childish bear band-aid, her fingers unconsciously curling as if trying to hold onto a warmth that didn’t belong to her.
A-Wang scratched his head and grinned sheepishly: “Sister Jiang, you always use that crappy stick—the chat keeps saying the picture shakes like a rave! This one’s steady!”
Jiang Yu looked at the cheap tripod and the pure concern in his eyes. She was silent for a moment, then pulled fifty yuan from her pocket and held it out: “Money.”
“Hey, no need, no need!”
A-Wang shook his head like a rattle-drum, “Sister Jiang, you’re looking down on me! Once you become a big streamer, just give me your autograph!”
Jiang Yu tried to insist, but Aunt Lin pushed the money back and gave A-Wang a smack on the back of the head: “If she’s giving it, take it! Why be so particular with your own people!”
The words “your own people” fell like a small pebble into the long-still lake of Jiang Yu’s heart, sending ripples spreading outward.
She silently withdrew her hand and said nothing more.
In the kitchen, the sharpness of garlic, the briny smell of seafood, mixed with the mother-and-son’s bickering, formed a kind of domestic warmth she had never experienced before.
In the afternoon, she sat at the door of her stone house soaking up the sun, her phone still buzzing with discussions about her.
Someone had made a comparison chart between her and Su Niannian. Under the huge “K.O.” text, fans from both sides were locked in a fierce war of words.
“Our Niannian is a rich girl—that Jiang Yu is just some back-alley nobody. How can they even compare?”
“Upstairs, can your rich girl catch green crabs with her bare hands? Can she fish up a 120,000-yuan antique? Luck is also a form of strength!”
“I’m just here for Iceberg Sister—cold, few words, satisfying to watch!”
Jiang Yu scrolled past unfamiliar IDs defending her, her band-aid-covered fingertip unconsciously curling again.
As she was lost in thought, Old Chen, pipe in mouth, strolled past her door with unhurried steps, but his eyes kept darting toward the house.
“…Girl.”
He finally couldn’t hold it in, coughed once, and asked with feigned casualness, “That blue-and-white jar… you really won’t sell it?”
“Not for now.” Jiang Yu replied.
Old Chen took a slow drag of his cigarette, and even the smoke rings he blew out carried a satisfied shape. “Mm, you’ve got good eyes. That thing—only someone with real fortune can hold it down.”
This was the first time he’d spoken to her without that look he usually reserved for con artists.
With that, he clasped his hands behind his back and ambled off.
As evening fell and the sky dimmed, a push notification from a public account she’d forgotten to mute buzzed on her phone: “The Jiang Family Metaphysics Annual Ceremony will be held next month, at which time the new heir candidate will be announced.”
The word “heir” didn’t sting—it just chilled her heart a few degrees further.
Expressionless, she long-pressed the notification and tapped “Unfollow.”
The phone screen went dark, reflecting her face.
In the dead of night, Jiang Yu found herself sleepless again.
The warmth and bustle of the day felt like an unreal dream.
She pushed open the door and instinctively gazed out at the pitch-black ocean.
That silvery-white light appeared again—clearer and vaster than ever before!
The glow seeped out from the deepest depths, shrouding the sea surface in a flowing veil of silver mist.
It was a mass of pure, ultimate life-source light, more ancient and primordial than any gold or purple she had ever witnessed.
Her body’s instincts screamed danger, yet the depths of her soul were irresistibly drawn to that power.
She couldn’t reach it yet.
But today, after tasting a sliver of human warmth, she felt a flicker of greed for the first time—she wanted to grow stronger, to hold onto something… tightly.
Just as she stared into the deep sea, her thoughts churning, the phone in her pocket buzzed abruptly.
She swiped the screen open. A cold official message from Tidal TV popped up.
[Violation Notice]: Dear user, your account “Unlucky’s Tide-Hunting Diary” has been reported by multiple users for severe violations including malicious scripting, fraudulent performance, and profiting from feudal superstition during your livestreams. Per platform regulations, your account will be immediately suspended for 48 hours pending review. During the review period, all livestreaming privileges will be revoked.
Reporter information: Anonymous.
The cold glow of the screen fell on her face, draining it of all color.
She had just felt a sliver of light, and in an instant, an invisible hand snuffed it out.