“Mom!”
“Mom! Wake up!”
Mo Fei woke to the sound of frantic voices calling out to her.
With a splitting headache, she slowly opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was the faces of two unfamiliar children.
The boy stood around 1.3 to 1.4 meters tall and looked only seven or eight years old. His thick black eyebrows were tightly knitted together, and his eyes were filled with worry and anxiety.
The little girl had her hair tied into two braids. Her face was round, fair, and tender. At this moment, tears and snot were smeared all over her face from crying.
The moment the two children saw Mo Fei wake up, they threw themselves into her arms from either side.
Mom? Were they calling me?
Caught off guard by the children suddenly throwing themselves into her embrace, Mo Fei’s body stiffened. She forced herself not to push them away.
Mo Fei pinched herself hard. A sharp pain shot through her, proving that this was not a dream.
Could one of her colleagues have pulled some kind of prank, knocked her unconscious, and brought her here? That did not seem likely either. She was the executive chef of the hotel, someone whose word carried absolute authority. None of her colleagues would dare do something like this.
Instinctively, Mo Fei surveyed her surroundings.
It was a run-down apartment of about forty square meters.
The cramped space had barely been divided into two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. It felt narrow and suffocating, with all kinds of miscellaneous items piled everywhere. Even the lighting was poor. On the table closest to her sat a framed family photo. There were three people in it, one adult and two children.
The woman standing in the middle with the two children in her arms looked almost identical to her.
But Mo Fei knew very clearly that it was not her.
Because the woman in the photograph held the two children with a weary expression, yet her features radiated warmth, gentleness, and maternal affection.
Mo Fei herself had never worn such an expression.
Closing her eyes with a headache, Mo Fei wondered if she had transmigrated. At that very moment, an enormous flood of memories crashed into her mind.
The earliest memory was of the woman, who was also named Mo Fei, preparing to stir fry some food before suddenly collapsing unconscious, frightening her son and daughter out of their wits. Going further back were countless scenes of her working herself to exhaustion just to earn money, as the mother and her two children depended on one another to survive.
The original owner had become pregnant before marriage while she was still in university, yet refused to reveal who the children’s father was.
After her family found out, they urged her to terminate the pregnancy, but she stubbornly refused. Furious, her family cut all ties with her.
In her third year of university, the original owner suspended her studies to give birth to the children, while their father never once showed himself from beginning to end.
From then on, she raised the pair of twins entirely on her own, enduring untold hardship along the way.
Fortunately, the most difficult years had already passed. As the children gradually grew up healthy and well behaved, the family of three managed to find some happiness despite their hardships.
However, after the twins entered primary school, the family’s expenses increased considerably.
Unwilling to let her children go without, the original owner worked during the day and sold fried rice and fried rice noodles at a night market stall in the evenings.
Working day and night without rest gradually wore her body down. She frequently suffered from dizziness, blurred vision, and heart palpitations.
But in order to save money, she had never been willing to visit a hospital.
This time, she had suffered a sudden acute myocardial infarction…
By the time this body woke again, it had already housed a different soul. The single mother Mo Fei had become Mo Fei, the executive chef of the Yate Grand Hotel.
Mo Fei: “…”
What had she ever done to deserve this? She had finally saved up a whole year’s worth of leave and was just about to fly overseas for a holiday. Then the moment she opened her eyes, she found herself here instead.
Doing her best to soften her expression, Mo Fei gently patted the backs of the two children to comfort them, awkwardly playing the role of a good mother.
“Mom, does it still hurt?” asked the boy, Mo Jianian, with remarkable maturity.
When Mo Fei had suddenly collapsed earlier, Mo Jianian had been the first to react. He had caught her before she fell and even cradled her head.
The little girl was named Mo Jiayue. Still crying, she reached out to touch Mo Fei’s forehead.
“Let me check Mommy.”
“Jianian, Jiayue, be good. Mommy doesn’t hurt anymore. Are you hungry? I’ll finish cooking that dish, then we’ll have dinner.” Looking at the little girl whose face was streaked with tears like a messy kitten’s, Mo Fei felt a trace of compassion. She pulled over a tissue and gently wiped away her tears.
Still worried about her, both children followed closely behind her.
“Mommy is really fine. Jianian, you’re the older brother. Take your sister to finish your homework first. After dinner, I’ll check it for you.” Mo Fei spoke patiently, though her tone carried a hint of seriousness.
After hesitating for a moment, Mo Jianian nodded in agreement.
The two eight year olds, who had only just entered the third grade, sat side by side at the dining table and began working on their maths homework.
Although Mo Jiayue had stopped crying, she still hiccupped from sobbing as she worked. It took quite a while before the hiccups finally stopped.
Mo Jianian finished his homework quickly. Every so often, he lifted his head to glance toward his mother not far away.
Feeling the concerned gaze from her “son,” Mo Fei was still not used to it, so she simply turned her back to him.
A wave of hunger rose from her stomach. Mo Fei glanced at the battered old refrigerator beside the kitchen doorway and the storage rack nearby.
The upper shelf of the refrigerator contained green peppers, eggplants, Chinese cabbage, and several jars of chilli sauce. The lower shelf held frozen raw meat and some cured sausages.
The top shelf of the storage rack was stacked high with trays of eggs. The two shelves below contained packaged ham, dried shiitake mushrooms, cucumbers, and carrots. On the floor sat a bag of unshucked corn and a large sack of cabbages.
These were all ingredients that Mo Fei used for selling fried rice at the night market.
The corn had to be removed from the cob. The cucumbers, carrots, and soaked shiitake mushrooms needed to be diced. The cabbage had to be shredded, while the ham was sliced.
Normally, after the family finished dinner, Mo Fei would prepare all of these ingredients and place them into containers before pushing her cart to the night market at exactly eight o’clock in the evening.
It was already 5:50 p.m. Preparing dinner while also getting all the ingredients ready for the stall left her with very little time.
Fortunately, today was Friday. Every Friday evening, Mo Fei took the night off instead of setting up her stall so she could spend time with her two children.
After sorting through the available ingredients, Mo Fei entered the kitchen.
The kitchen was small, but packed with equipment. Beneath the gas stove sat a gas cylinder, while a large, well-seasoned iron wok rested on top. Beside it lay a chopping board and two kitchen knives, one for meat and one for bones. There was no separation between raw and cooked food preparation, making Mo Fei frown slightly.
Glancing at the chopping board, she realized that the original owner had planned to cook stir fried pork with carrots today. The carrots and pork had already been sliced, waiting only to be cooked. As for the rice, it had already finished cooking in the rice cooker and switched to its keep warm setting, ready to be served at any time.
Out of sheer professional habit as a chef, Mo Fei first squeezed in enough time to wipe down the countertop, the wok, and the spatula.
When she turned the gas stove knob to light the flame, however, not even a single spark appeared.
That shouldn’t be possible. Thinking the gas valve had not been opened enough, Mo Fei twisted it wider.
Still, no flame appeared.
Looks like the gas had run out. Mo Fei sighed. She found herself missing the fully automated industrial kitchen she had once worked in.
Forget it. What was the number to call for a gas refill again? Picking up the original owner’s mobile phone, Mo Fei flipped through the contacts. As she did, she suddenly heard a sizzling sound coming from the large iron wok below, despite there being no fire beneath it.
But that sound should only happen when there was a flame.
Mo Fei shifted her gaze to the wok, then carefully examined the stove to make sure she was not seeing things.
There was still no fire.
She first tightened the gas valve before cautiously pouring a little cooking oil into the wok. Following the principle of a hot wok and cold oil, tiny bubbles soon appeared as the oil heated up.
It could cook without fire?
What the hell?
Then again, if a living person like her could transmigrate into another body, what was so strange about a wok that could cook without fire?
Calmly accepting this bizarre reality, the starving Mo Fei quickly finished cooking the stir fried pork with carrots, a plate of stir fried Shanghai bok choy, and scrambled eggs with tomatoes. Stir fried rapidly over intense heat, the carrots glistened with oil, the bok choy remained crisp and refreshing, while the scrambled eggs were tender and juicy. The three simple home cooked dishes looked irresistibly fragrant, enough to make anyone swallow in anticipation.
“Wash your hands, it’s time for dinner!” Mo Fei called as she carried the dishes to the dining table.
“It smells so good.” Mo Jiayue stared fixedly at the three dishes on the table as the tempting aroma continuously drifted into her nose.
Mo Jianian came over carrying bowls of rice and looked at the spread in surprise. He had heard his sister praising the food while serving the rice and thought she was exaggerating. Only after coming closer did he realise the dishes truly smelled wonderful. Not only were they fragrant, but they were beautifully coloured and plated much better than before.
“Eat while it’s hot,” Mo Fei said.
The two children had long been hungry, their stomachs growling. After taking one bite, they immediately wanted another, unable to stop eating.
By the end of dinner, each member of the family had eaten two bowls of rice. The rice cooker and every plate had been scraped completely clean. Jianian and Jiayue’s little bellies were round and full.
“Mom, I want stir fried pork with carrots again tomorrow.” Jiayue mixed the last bit of sauce left on the plate into her rice and finished every last grain.
“Me too,” Jianian added.
“Of course. But tomorrow I can make something even tastier for you. It’ll be nice to have a change.” Mo Fei smiled. It was the first genuine smile she had shown since realizing she had transmigrated. She loved seeing people finish every bit of the food she cooked. It always gave her an indescribable sense of satisfaction.
Strangely enough, even she thought these ordinary home cooked dishes tasted better than anything she had made before. Perhaps it was simply because she was hungry. Surely it could not have anything to do with that fireless iron wok.
“I’ll wash the dishes.”
“I’ll wipe the table.”
After dinner, the children first finished the household chores they were capable of doing before returning to the table to continue their homework.
Mo Jianian and Mo Jiayue were in the same class, so they had identical homework assignments. Whenever Jiayue encountered something she could not solve, she simply asked her brother, sparing Mo Fei a great deal of trouble. She had heard that helping young children with homework could be incredibly frustrating, and she had no desire to suffer through that herself.
Mo Fei worked tirelessly to clean the kitchen before mopping the living room and bedrooms.
By the time she finished, sweat was pouring down her body, leaving her utterly exhausted.
When she finally completed all the housework, the two children had already bathed on their own, changed into their pyjamas, and were waiting for her in the bedroom.
“Today, we want to sleep with Mommy,” the twins said in perfect unison.
The home had only two bedrooms. The other bedroom had been divided with a curtain into two sleeping areas, each containing a single bed. Normally, the twins slept there. But after what had happened to Mo Fei today, they both wanted to stay close to her.
“Alright then. You two go to sleep first. I’ll take a shower.” Mo Fei could not stand the smell of sweat clinging to her body.
With that, she walked into the bathroom, which measured less than five square meters. There she saw the original owner’s towel and toothbrush. The towel still looked usable, but the toothbrush bristles had long since splayed out. Although the body belonged to someone else, Mo Fei still rummaged through the cupboards until she found a brand-new toothbrush and towel to use.
After cleaning herself up, Mo Fei returned to the bedroom. Just as she had expected, the children had already fallen asleep while waiting for her. Both of them were sprawled across the bed. Mo Jiayue still hugged a teddy bear tightly in her arms. She must have been dreaming about something delicious because she had even drooled onto the little bear.
Leaning against the doorway, Mo Fei quietly watched the scene.
It reminded her of many years ago at the orphanage. Unable to sleep one night, she had gotten up and seen the matron gently covering each child’s blanket one by one. She shifted slightly, reached over to tuck the blankets around the two children, then quietly left for the bedroom where they normally slept.
After a busy evening, Mo Fei finally had a moment alone to process the enormous shock of having transmigrated.
The only thing she found comforting was that, in her original world, she had been an orphan. Even if she disappeared, there would probably be no one to mourn her. In that sense, it made little difference which world she lived in. The only real difference now was that there were two children who regarded her as their mother. If she abandoned them, would they not end up suffering the exact same fate she once had?
Lying on the narrow bed, Mo Fei continued sorting through the original owner’s memories, slowly thinking everything over. Suddenly, a deep, magnetic male voice echoed beside her ear. It was faint at first, making it difficult to hear clearly.
“Who’s there?” Mo Fei sprang upright from the bed, trying to locate the source of the voice. But no matter where she walked, it lingered beside her ears. Even when she covered them tightly, the voice gradually became clearer.
The male voice said that Mo Fei had not transmigrated by accident. She had been chosen to enter a world that had already entered a period of rapid biological evolution.
[Biological evolution does not occur gradually as the environment changes.
Instead, it undergoes explosive leaps during specific periods.
The previous such period was known as the Cambrian Period, approximately 540 million years ago. It is also called the Cambrian Explosion. During that era, countless lifeforms underwent major evolutionary changes, and the diversity of life increased explosively.
A new such era is about to arrive.
With it will come drastic environmental and climatic changes. Landslides, earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanic activity, and other natural disasters will occur with increasing frequency. At the same time, life itself will enter another period of extraordinary flourishing.
No one knows whether humanity will climb even higher from its position at the top of the food chain, or fall even further.
In short, the era of natural disasters and biological evolution, including humanity itself, has already arrived in silence.
The conditions for survival will be extremely harsh.]
“Why should I believe you?” Mo Fei shot back without the slightest courtesy. She deliberately kept her voice low so as not to wake the children.
The male voice remained completely emotionless and merely repeated the same sentence.
“You are one of the chosen.”
After that, no matter what else Mo Fei said, the voice never appeared again.
Mo Fei suddenly remembered all those post-apocalyptic novels and disaster films she had watched during university, and a cold sweat instantly broke out across her body.
She could not help turning toward the window. It was now eleven o’clock at night. Outside was still a pitch black sky, though a few households remained awake with their lights on.
Wiping the sweat from her forehead, Mo Fei felt her scalp tingle. In truth, she had no reason not to believe the mysterious voice. It was a warning. If she believed it and prepared in advance, then even if nothing happened in the end, there would be no harm done. But if she ignored it, then when danger truly arrived, simply staying alive might become an impossible dream. Mo Fei had an excellent memory, and she found herself repeatedly going over every word she had just heard.
Forget it. I’ll have a glass of water and go to bed early.
Turning toward the kitchen to get herself a drink, Mo Fei never expected the large iron wok she had polished until it gleamed to suddenly burst forth with a dazzling crimson light that instantly engulfed her…