Back in the room, Su Wanning lifted the lid of the box. Inside, everything was exactly as Su Yuling had seen in the original owner’s memory: on one side, a neat stack of yellowed thread-bound books, their pages brittle and fragile; on the other side, a dozen or so small bundles wrapped in oiled paper, varying in size, seemingly ordinary.
Su Wanning picked up the top oiled-paper bundle and carefully opened it by pinching the edges. Inside were some blackened plant roots and stems, hard and brittle, looking like dead branches collected from the wild—any ordinary person would have immediately tossed them into the trash.
But Su Wanning’s eyes lit up. With the knowledge of traditional Chinese medicine she’d inherited from Su Zhenping, she recognized them instantly: this was wild ginseng, a century-old treasure!
In this era, wild ginseng was rare enough, and one of a hundred-year-old variety was practically legendary—priceless, life-saving medicine. She restrained the excitement in her chest and opened a few more bundles.
Polygonum multiflorum, blood lingzhi, purple-flower ginseng… Each time she revealed a bundle, her heartbeat quickened. These were top-tier herbs, nearly impossible to find outside, and even a single specimen could easily be exchanged for the kind of money and resources Su Yuling had always dreamed of.
Su Wanning remembered how Su Yuling had previously dismissed these as “black, useless firewood.” All she could think now was: “You don’t know what you’re sitting on.” If Su Yuling knew how valuable these so-called scraps were, she would probably be tearing her hair out in regret.
She carefully rewrapped the herbs and set them back in the box, then picked up the thread-bound books. Most were common classics of Chinese medicine, like Huangdi Neijing or Treatise on Cold Damage Disorders. Old as they were, they were nothing extraordinary. But when she reached the last book, she stopped.
The cover of this book was battered beyond recognition; even the title was illegible, and the pages had taken on a dark, aged yellow and a coarse, rough texture. A memory suddenly surfaced: Su Yuling had once flipped through this book, dragging her red-painted fingernail across the pages, scoffing, “What use is reading this? Can it get me a single piece of di-ke linen?” That scornful tone still made Su Wanning’s teeth itch to recall.
Gently, she opened the neglected book. The beginning contained no obscure medical theory, no complex meridian diagrams. But in the inner margin, she saw a line of small, delicate characters written in vermilion:
“To my descendants, reading these words is like seeing me in person. This box is called ‘Qiankun.’ Within lies a hidden world. Only by letting blood as a pact can it be opened…”
In just a few words, her doubts melted away. This medicine box was a family heirloom, and the mysterious space inside was a support left by her ancestors for future generations! Her heart raced, her fingers trembling slightly as she held the fragile pages.
She continued reading. The ancestor’s note detailed the uses of the space: the ancient well was called the “Spirit Spring,” its water could not only nourish the body but also accelerate plant growth; the black soil was “Xirang,” rich enough to grow anything, growing hundreds of times faster and better than outside; and the bamboo house was for storage, where time stood still, keeping anything placed inside perpetually fresh.
This wasn’t just a support—it was a treasure beyond imagining! Su Wanning’s breathing grew rapid as she began planning: with this space, she could not only escape this house, but even in a resource-scarce countryside, she could live better than anyone else.
At the end, the note mentioned another thing: besides the space, her ancestors had left a fortune to secure one’s livelihood, with the location of the treasure recorded in this very old medical book. The key to opening it was a pharmacological formula.
Su Wanning immediately began searching through the book. It wasn’t ordinary medical knowledge; it contained lost ancient prescriptions and acupuncture techniques, written in difficult-to-read characters that made her head spin. In the middle of the book, her fingers suddenly felt a hidden compartment. Carefully lifting the paper, a sheet of parchment as thin as a cicada’s wing slipped out.
On it was drawn a map in special ink. Su Wanning recognized it instantly—it was a layout of the old neighborhood where they now lived! A discreet corner was circled in red, with the pharmacological formula written beside it, serving as the key.
The treasure was hidden right in this house! Su Wanning’s mind surged with shock. She had thought her father’s small stash of gold bars was impressive—but that was only the tip of the iceberg. The real treasure lay right under Su Yuling and Wang Zhenhai’s noses, completely unknown to them.
She forced herself to calm down, folded the map and note back into the medicine box, and silently recited “Enter” in her mind. In the next instant, the scene shifted—she was back on the black soil inside the space, soft and moist under her feet.
This time she didn’t hesitate. She went to the edge of the Xirang soil and took out a nearly dried Blood-Stanching Herb from the corner of the box—it had long lost its medicinal properties from sitting too long. She dug a small hole in the soil, planted the herb, then ran to the Spirit Spring and carefully poured water over its roots.
A miracle unfolded before her eyes.
The once-withered herb, upon touching the Spirit Spring water, seemed awakened. Its dry branches and leaves visibly turned green. Within seconds, it grew into a tender, thriving Blood-Stanching Herb, exuding a faint medicinal fragrance—better than any she had seen in the hospital.
“It really works!” Su Wanning’s eyes sparkled. Gazing over the endless Xirang, a bold plan took shape in her mind: she would not only leave, but thrive in this era on her own—and she would empty Su Yuling and Wang Zhenhai’s house to repay herself for all the suffering the original owner had endured over the years.
She looked at the bamboo house beside her and thought, “I’ll put the box inside.” The medicine box instantly disappeared from her hands and reappeared neatly on the bamboo house table. Su Wanning couldn’t help but smile—this space was even more convenient than she had imagined.
Closing her eyes, her consciousness sank fully into the space. She began organizing the herbs, planning which plots to plant ginseng, which to plant lingzhi, and studied the ancient medical book slowly, memorizing its formulas. With this, no matter what she faced in the future, she would be prepared.
Outside, footsteps announced Su Yuling’s return, accompanied by her complaints to neighbors: “That dead girl is still playing dead inside—wait until Wang Zhenhai gets home, we’ll see how to deal with her!”