Time flew by. Shūxīn was now seven years old, having grown more than twice her original height. Her body was no longer the scrawny frame she had arrived with; she was plump and healthy, and everyone in the family loved to hug her and give her a little squeeze.
After all, her space wasn’t just decoration. Besides the occasional treats from Grandma, Shūxīn had been secretly preparing extra meals for herself. With all the meat she had eaten over the years, she needed it to grow properly.
Over these four or five years, Shūxīn had completely won her grandmother’s favor. Even Grandpa Liú now looked at this granddaughter with a special warmth.
Her two sons were honest and simple men who rarely said a kind word. Grandpa valued them, but they feared him. As the head of the household, he was stern and serious. Shūjiàn Jūn and the others rarely got close to him.
Now, with such a lively, clever, and sweet-talking granddaughter, how could he not dote on her? How had he never noticed her charm when she was younger? Watching her now, he couldn’t help but take notice.
Shūxīn understood exactly how to deal with her proud, serious little grandpa: just run at him full force. First, a set of sweet words, then a bit of playful teasing, and occasionally a treat.
Grandpa Liú could not resist her charm. He hadn’t followed in Grandma’s footsteps, but he didn’t escape Shūxīn’s sweet trap either. Faced with this adorable, plump, sweet-talking girl, he could no longer maintain his stern demeanor.
Shūlán watched as Shūxīn repeated the same tactics she had used on Grandma and even won over their previously stern Grandpa. Her feelings were mixed—but she secretly noted everything in her little notebook. Perhaps in the future, she could try the same approach. Grandpa and Grandma were off-limits, but her parents could be attempted.
Shūlán wasn’t alone in witnessing this—Uncle Liú’s family, along with her parents and older brother, saw it too.
Aunt even sighed: “This is the difference! Your brothers, learn from your sister. They don’t say a word all day, yet here she is, charming everyone. No wonder the little one is spoiled—if it were me, I’d spoil her too!”
Beyond winning over her family and becoming the household favorite, over the years Shūxīn had secretly stored a lot of items in her space, filling it nearly to capacity.
“Full” might be an exaggeration. Through her cultivation, the space had expanded along with her growing abilities. The space had originally been inherent to her body. As Shūxīn grew stronger, the space grew as well.
Over the years, Shūxīn not only explored the mountains—boosting her wood-element abilities by three levels—but also cultivated the Nine-Colored Lotus’s innate soul technique. Her mental power now rivaled that of a mental-force ability.
Shūxīn had converted most of the grassland in her space into farmland using her mental power, planting crops. Of course, the seeds had been secretly taken from home.
In previous years, she mostly grew rice and wheat, consuming little herself. She also built several granaries along the fields using her wood-element ability, storing the harvest efficiently.
This year marked the first year of the famine. She didn’t plan to grow precious crops like rice and wheat. Instead, she planted high-yield crops such as corn, sorghum, and sweet potatoes—enough to eat but less noticeable than the more prized grains.
She also fenced off a section of grassland for an orchard, leaving the rest for future projects. Behind the house, besides the original bamboo grove, she planted various seedlings in her space, all nurtured on her mountain plot.
Over the years, she hadn’t kept wild animals on the mountain, except occasionally bringing back wild chickens or rabbits. Everything else was raised within the space. When she wanted to eat, she could catch one in the space and cook it—there was even a kitchen. She had also planned a small vegetable garden for spices.
Speaking of vegetables, she intended to clear another plot to grow more crops, drying them for the famine. She wouldn’t starve, but her family might.
The next morning, Shūxīn woke early. Grandpa and Uncle Liú (her father) were heading to the city.
It was the first half of 1959. Three months had passed since sowing, yet not a drop of rain had fallen. Grandpa Liú, always practical, decided to prepare by heading to the city to purchase supplies—better safe than sorry.
Shūxīn agreed wholeheartedly. Unlike her grandfather, who was uncertain, she knew the coming three years would be difficult.
Yesterday, she had persuaded Grandpa to take her along. Although she had been in this world for three or four years, she had never visited the city. She had only explored nearby villages, with the farthest place being the commune headquarters.
Today, they were heading to Xīnyáng County, where the Liúlín Brigade was located. From home to the commune, then by vehicle to the county—a single journey of roughly fifty to sixty kilometers, taking two to three hours. This wasn’t like decades later when a few dozen kilometers could be covered in under an hour. Vehicles were slow, stopping frequently to pick up passengers.
Before dawn, the Liú men set out with the year’s stored mountain goods and wild game toward the commune.
Thanks to her training over the years, Shūxīn had excellent physical fitness and kept up without slowing anyone down. The Liú family knew she was strong—her siblings combined couldn’t match her. Most of the wild game in the household had been provided by her. Otherwise, the family wouldn’t have allowed her to go to the county.
On the commune bus to the county, it was still early, and there weren’t many passengers. Shūxīn and Grandpa secured seats. She immediately used her mental power to block her sense of smell—the bus was small, crowded, and full of mixed odors from the passengers’ chickens, ducks, and goods.
Years of family pampering had made her delicate. She had eaten from piles of corpses in the past and smelled all sorts of things—but now she preferred comfort when it was available.
Once they arrived in Xīnyáng County, Shūxīn surveyed the surroundings. Most houses were built of blue bricks, some with peeling exteriors. Buildings varied in height, the tallest only twenty meters or so, with six or seven floors.
Pedestrians hurried along the streets, mostly dressed in dull blues and grays, bright colors rare. Slogans were plastered on walls: “Serve the People,” “Promote Revolution and Production,” “Repair, Harvest, and Plant Quickly—Rely on No One.”
Although the city wasn’t as prosperous as imagined, it seemed poorer than described in her records. Yet the faces of the people shone with hope—no despair, only the promise of a new life.
Seeing these glowing faces, Shūxīn felt both relieved and saddened. Relieved that there was no war—China had moved from conflict to peace. Saddened because the Great Famine would soon arrive, bringing suffering.
Perhaps soon, these smiles would vanish. She wanted to help, but alone she could do little—only remind the government that a severe drought was coming in the next few years.
There was no rush yet. This was a life-or-death matter and required careful planning. She couldn’t expose herself.
Her father held his daughter’s hand. Seeing her in awe, he didn’t mind; he assumed she was simply delighted to see such a large city for the first time.