The night deepened. Nan Jianli lay still, listening until the breathing of those around her had all steadied, before she quietly rose and slipped out of the room.
She picked up the shovel leaning against the cart and, under the clear moonlight, vaulted over the wall and out of the small courtyard.
Though she had killed humanoid creatures before, that didn’t mean she could tolerate carrying two corpses around with her. If she wanted to store some food in there, she’d inevitably feel a bit uneasy about it.
Channeling the power within her, Nan Jianli moved like a phantom, quickly appearing in the hollow behind the village. She chose a shaded slope, swung the shovel, and began to dig.
With her strength ability backing her, a pit a meter deep was soon finished. Nan Jianli climbed out of the pit, reached out her hand, thought of Mrs. Liu and Wang Er’s corpses, and tentatively said, “Come out.”
A flash of light passed, and the fragrance of grass and trees spread. That miraculous space once again floated before Nan Jianli’s eyes. The mountains were still fine, the water still fine, the scenery still fine—only the corpses of Mrs. Liu and Wang Er were gone.
Nan Jianli quickly looked down and saw the two bodies already lying in the pit. Watching this scene, she felt a hot current surging wildly in her chest. She excitedly pumped her fist, a gleam shining in her eyes.
In this chaotic world, this Divine Space and her abilities were her greatest reliance. Heaven had ultimately favored her after all.
Before Nan Jianli’s excitement had even passed, a rustling sound suddenly came from the slope above.
She was startled and looked over sharply. She saw four gray-brown pheasants flapping their wings as they burst out, their tail feathers sweeping over the withered grass blades, followed by six gray rabbits hopping into view, their red eyes glinting faintly in the moonlight.
These small animals seemed not to notice Nan Jianli’s presence and headed straight toward her.
The drought had withered most of the vegetation on the mountain, yet unexpectedly there were still pheasants and wild rabbits—though their frames were thin, looking like they had little meat on them.
But something was better than nothing. Even a mosquito leg was still meat; even a pot of broth was better than gnawing on grass roots and tree bark.
Nan Jianli cheerfully rolled up her sleeves, watched for the right moment, then lunged out suddenly. Both hands shot out simultaneously, precisely catching two rabbit ears, while her right leg swept sideways, kicking the two pheasants beside her to the ground.
With her movement, the space closed, and the scent of green grass abruptly stopped. Only then did the remaining pheasants and rabbits seem to snap back to their senses, flapping their wings and kicking their short legs, about to scatter in all directions.
How could Nan Jianli let the meat that had delivered itself to her door run away? She casually stored the subdued rabbits and pheasants into the space.
Her form flashed again, brushing past the prey. Her fingertips flicked slightly, precisely tapping the foreheads of the wild rabbits and pheasants. In just a few breaths, the fleeing prey wobbled their little heads and toppled over, knocked out cold.
Gathering the two pheasants and four rabbits together, Nan Jianli picked up the shovel, quickly filled in the pit, and even patted the mound firm when she was done.
After finishing all this, she picked up the pheasants and rabbits from the ground and strode down the mountain.
The moonlight was bright, and deep in the mountain forest, animals large and small seemed to be summoned by something, rushing toward that spot.
But in less than a moment, the summons suddenly cut off. The animals spun in place several times in agitation, and could only give up and return to their dens.
Nan Jianli, who had already swiftly returned home, naturally knew nothing of what was happening deep in the mountains. She slipped quietly back into the courtyard. She was about to store the rabbits and pheasants into the space, but then worried it would be inconvenient to take them out on the road.
So she simply tied their feet, bundled them together, covered them with a large winnowing basket, and pressed a bundle of luggage on top. Only after confirming that the meat in her mouth wouldn’t fly away did she yawn and go back to sleep.
When the sky was just beginning to lighten, the sound of a gong shattered the village’s stillness. Someone outside the courtyard was walking and beating the gong.
“Everyone pay attention! Get up and make breakfast. Gather at the village entrance at the first quarter of the Chen hour. Depart promptly at the fourth quarter of the Chen hour.”
The moment there was movement outside, Old Mrs. Meng had already risen. She pulled the blankets up over the three children, then walked out of the house. Just as she stepped out of the main hall, she spotted the winnowing basket overturned in the courtyard, with the luggage pressed on top of it.
“How did this luggage roll off?” she muttered with a frown, bending down to move it.
Meng Sanping rubbed his bleary eyes and shuffled out of the house in his slippers. Seeing his mother’s movement, he hurried forward and reached out: “Mother, don’t move! I’ll do it!”
Meng Sanping carried the luggage onto the cart, and Old Mrs. Meng bent down to pick up the overturned winnowing basket. But when she saw what was underneath, the old lady stumbled back in shock, her voice changing pitch.
“Heavens above! What is this?!”
That shout startled the already wilted wild rabbit, which sprang up with a leap, kicking the pheasant beside it into a frantic “cluck-cluck” cry.
Zhang Shi, quick-eyed and quick-handed, steadied the retreating Old Mrs. Meng and hurriedly soothed her: “Mother, don’t panic.”
Even as she spoke, she followed Old Mrs. Meng’s gaze toward the underside of the basket. When she saw the bound wild rabbits and pheasants clearly, she stood frozen on the spot.
Meng Sanping finished stowing the luggage, turned his head, and saw the rabbits and pheasants huddled together on the ground. He too was too stunned to say a word.
“Mother… where did this come from?” Zhang Shi snapped back to reality, her eyes full of confusion. “Husband, did you go out last night?”
“We’re setting out on the road today—why would I go anywhere!” Meng Sanping shook his head repeatedly, then looked at his own mother. “Mother, what’s going on here? Should we go out and ask around, see whose family this belongs to?”
Old Mrs. Meng had already caught her breath by then. Hearing this, she smacked her son on the head and scolded in a low voice: “How did I give birth to such a fool like you! This is in our home, so it’s ours. Are you afraid others won’t know your family has meat?”
She then turned and instructed Zhang Shi: “Daughter-in-law, hurry—slaughter the chicken and the rabbit, salt the meat first, and we’ll eat it on the road.”
Zhang Shi acknowledged with excitement and dashed off toward the kitchen. Old Mrs. Meng followed to help her daughter-in-law—one handling the chicken and rabbit, the other making breakfast, while also preparing the dried rations they’d need for the day’s journey.
After the family finished breakfast, Zhang Shi filled the water skins with cooled boiled water and called for Meng Sanping to take down the wok and load it onto the cart.
Old Mrs. Meng paced inside and out, her rough, withered hands trembling slightly as she stroked the furniture she couldn’t take with her. Her eyes gradually reddened, and her lips quivered along with them.
This was her home, her whole life—who would have thought that in her old age, she’d have to flee to a foreign land? Once she left, she didn’t know if she’d ever live to see it again…
Nan Jianli saw the old lady’s sorrow and urged Meng Lou and Meng Boyang to go cheer up their grandmother.
The old lady looked at her two grandsons, and her dazed gaze gradually grew resolute. She was old—if she died, she died—but she still had her son and her grandsons. They were her home.
Old Mrs. Meng walked out of the house, her gaze slowly sweeping over her son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren waiting in the yard. The morning sunlight spilled over each of them, warm and full of life.
She took a deep breath, straightened her somewhat hunched back, and though her voice was weathered, it carried firmness: “Everything’s ready—let’s set out!”
It was a departure, a departure toward a better life.
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