Night had fallen, and the stars hung low in the sky.
Shūxīn lay on the same bed she had woken up on earlier in the day, slowly savoring the taste of tonight’s dinner. It had been a long time since she had eaten such a hearty meal.
The mixed-grain porridge was a bit coarse and rough on the throat, but Grandma Liú had simmered it to a perfect consistency, and chewing it slowly revealed an unexpected flavor.
Next came the stir-fried wild vegetables and pickles. Although lightly seasoned, the fresh, natural taste of the greens could counterbalance everything.
Finally, there were the scrambled eggs. Even now, she could recall their tender, silky texture melting in her mouth.
Though there was no meat tonight, there would be opportunities in the future. The Liú household had plenty of laborers, and none were lazy, so life at home was comfortable enough.
Grandpa Liú would have Grandma cook meat once a month to nourish the family. A strong body meant more energy to work in the fields.
Overall, Grandpa Liú was a forward-thinking man; he knew health was the foundation of everything.
Her parents, exhausted from a full day of work, washed up and fell into a deep sleep.
Shūxīn lay on the bed, savoring the flavors of dinner and reflecting on this new world. Broadly speaking, it matched the history she had read about in books: the country was called Huáguó, and its historical progression was similar.
This was good news. Being familiar with the future gave her foresight and prevented her from taking the wrong paths.
Still, she had to be cautious. Huáguó had just been founded; conditions were harsh, and life was nowhere near as prosperous as in later eras. The 1950s were manageable, but in a decade or so, every word would need careful thought to avoid taboos.
Most importantly, the Great Famine of 1959 lasted three years—it was brutal, comparable to surviving in the apocalypse.
If only her abilities were still with her! With her powers, labor would be effortless; with her wood-element powers, food and drink would be plentiful!
She wondered whether supernatural abilities still existed in this new world. Thinking of this, her mood soured.
“Why not try? Maybe it came with me.”
With that thought, Shūxīn carefully scanned her body with her mental energy, focusing on her dāntián and brain.
Why could she still use mental energy? In the apocalypse, those with abilities had excellent mental strength; otherwise, their bodies could not handle the strain of developing powers.
Spirit-type ability users had especially strong mental energy, many times greater than ordinary elemental users.
Her careful observation paid off. Shūxīn discovered a green, cloud-patterned crystal at the center of her consciousness in her brain.
It looked familiar. The cloud pattern resembled the “Ruyi Pearl” her father had given her, said to be a family heirloom from her mother.
Now she recalled: after her father gave her the Ruyi Pearl, she had awakened her wood-element power. Could it be because of it?
If so, it probably bore her no ill will. Maybe it had even brought her to this world!
With this thought, Shūxīn no longer hesitated. She focused her mental energy and slowly approached the Ruyi crystal. Her consciousness trembled as her mental energy was affected.
After a brief daze, Shūxīn realized she was no longer on her bed, but in a strange space.
Green grass stretched in all directions, with a clear stream meandering through the meadow. The water was so clear she could see the stones beneath.
Ahead, a green-tiled brick house stood at the edge of the meadow. Behind it rose a tall hill, covered with a bamboo grove.
Scattered trees of varying heights filled the area, and clouds and mist concealed the distant mountains.
After surveying the space, Shūxīn walked toward the house. Deep down, she already suspected: this must be the space of the Ruyi Pearl.
Even before the apocalypse, she had read novels and kept records. Spaces and systems were not unusual to her—especially since she herself had a spatial ability in her previous life, though it lacked mountains and streams.
Inside, the house was a small four-courtyard home, with flowers and plants filling the yard but never crowded. There were only a few rooms: bedroom, study, kitchen, bathroom, and two storage rooms.
The study was packed with books, both ancient manuscripts and modern printed editions. The bedroom had a traditional wooden bed with matching dressing table, treasure boxes, jewelry stands, and a modern mirror.
One side had a vintage wardrobe with a mix of ancient and modern clothing, plus folded fabrics.
The remaining rooms—kitchen and storage—contained food, drink, clothes, and miscellaneous items, all left as-is.
After exploring, Shūxīn walked to the yard. She had noticed a remarkable flower in the garden when she entered: larger than the others by a wide margin.
Up close, it was even more dazzling than from afar. The flower had twenty-four petals in nine colors, each distinct, with mysterious cloud-patterned markings.
At the center lay the green crystal she had seen in her consciousness—a jade-like gem without edges, entwined with cloud patterns, with a tiny sprout inside.
When she touched it, the crystal transformed into a beam of light that shot into her forehead. The flower vanished, and she closed her eyes to absorb the crystal’s information.
It wasn’t a Ruyi Pearl, nor merely a green crystal—it was a miraculous flower seed, called the Nine-Colored Lotus.
Born in chaos, it had twenty-four petals, each with its own color and function.
Why had it become a mere seed? Simple: it grew under the Blue Lotus in chaos. When Pángǔ opened the heavens, the residual energy nearly destroyed it. Fortunately, Pángǔ spared it, gathering its remaining essence into a seed and tossing it into the temporal rift to bloom another day.
It landed in Shūxīn’s world, taken by her mother’s ancestor as a family heirloom for its protective properties.
Millennia later, during the early post-apocalypse era, the Lotus sent its residual soul into Shūxīn’s mother’s womb to accelerate its growth through virtuous deeds.
When Shūxīn died in her previous life, the Lotus’s soul merged with hers, reincarnating as Liú Shūxīn. Now, Shūxīn and the Lotus were one: she was the Nine-Colored Lotus, and the Lotus was her.
Though a chaotic flower, the Lotus had not encountered human hearts for millennia. Shūxīn now had mortal flesh and could not handle the full memory of the Lotus, most of which remained sealed.
The space she occupied was part of the Lotus’s own innate domain, sufficient for her mortal needs.
This world mirrored pre-apocalypse conditions, so the Lotus’s magic could not be used, though apocalypse-developed powers still functioned in limited scope, which was enough.
Additionally, the Lotus had stored supplies and books in its space. Shūxīn had just seen them in the storage room—food, drink, clothing, and other necessities. Her life was fully secured.
With a thought, she exited the space and lay on her bed, ready to sleep. Today had been thrilling enough.
She would rest now, gather strength, and prepare for a prosperous future. By accumulating virtue and doing good deeds, she might live more than one lifetime.