1
The autumn wind was bleak, and all living things lay slain.
The night wind howled over Heiku Mountain, swept down toward the crescent-shaped village at its foot, and finally crashed into a farmhouse nestled against the eastern edge of the settlement. The doors and windows rattled noisily in its grip.
Winter had arrived unusually early this year. Though it was still only late autumn, the air already carried the harsh bite of deep winter.
He Tian sat on the edge of the bed, facing the window that had not yet been papered over. Her hair was tousled by the cold wind, but she remained perfectly still, gazing quietly at the clear, cold moonlight beyond the pane.
After a long moment, she blinked.
She had traveled through time.
How strange.
With her pale, unreadable phoenix eyes, she swept her gaze across the room once more.
When she had first arrived in this world, she’d already taken careful stock of her situation. It was safe.
Now, as she looked again, it was more out of curiosity.
So, this was the world before the apocalypse.
Yes—she came from the apocalypse. An era of relentless natural disasters, severe pollution, and a world where flora and fauna had mutated beyond recognition. It was no longer a place fit for ordinary humans to survive.
And she herself was not an ordinary human. She was a new human, born of genetic technology.
She possessed the strongest physique in history, the quickest reflexes, and incomparably sharp senses. All of which had made her more than capable of handling the unpredictable dangers of the post-apocalyptic world and successfully completing the various missions assigned by her base.
But the living conditions in that world were too harsh. She had died in the line of duty during an S-rank mission.
Born and bred for missions, she harbored no regrets about the manner of her death. Yet in the final moment before her consciousness dissolved, a feeling she had never experienced before surfaced within her—a faint sense of regret.
She had so wanted to see with her own eyes what the world was like before the apocalypse.
She had only ever learned about the pre-apocalyptic world through books, audio, and video documentaries. She had never experienced it herself. Many of the words, many of the scenes and especially many of the species that had long gone extinct by her time, were difficult for her to truly understand.
It was hard to imagine something you had never seen or experienced.
Ah, right. There was also one other source of her understanding of the pre-apocalyptic world: the handwritten journal of a young girl named Yao Yao.
She had found it during a mission in the residential building of an abandoned city. It was the journal of a lively, cheerful girl who had loved life and loved recording it—a girl who had lived in the world before the end.
There wasn’t much particularly useful information in it, but the journal had stayed with her all the same. She rarely grew attached to anything, but this journal, she adored it. Every word, every photograph within its pages was steeped in vibrant vitality and a passion for living. It was a vividness she had never seen or experienced in her own time.
Between missions, she would pull out the journal and look through it, letting her mind paint pictures of what the world before the apocalypse might have looked like, and what the people of that era might have been.
She never expected that she would actually get to come to the world she had always been so curious about.
It was truly different.
Slowly, she swept her gaze across the room once more.
It was quiet, yet unlike the quiet of an apocalyptic night.
Within this silence was a sense of peace that soothed the heart and a vibrant vitality brimming with hope.
She closed her eyes and let herself feel.
Soft rustlings: the faint sounds of plants sprouting and branches extending, the whisper of wind combing through leaves, the shallow breaths of animals slumbering through the night, and the quiet stirrings of nocturnal creatures.
All interwoven into a melody—pleasant, soothing, like a harmonious piece composed and played by nature itself.
Even the air carried a sweetness that reached deep into the soul.
A smile tugged unbidden at the corners of He Tian’s lips. She had only just crossed over, but she already loved this world.
She took a deep breath. The air was fresh and sweet, with traces of warm, moist vapor—something she had never experienced in the apocalypse.
How wonderful.
She sighed softly to herself. But before the sigh could fade, her eyes snapped open, and her hands clenched tight around the edge of the bed.
Her heart raced. Dizziness washed over her, darkness swam at the edges of her vision. Every cell in her body screamed with one voice—
Hunger.
She dug her fingers into the bedframe, leaving deep imprints in the wood, and rode out the wave of agonizing starvation.
She needed to eat something. That was the first coherent thought to surface once her mind steadied.
But—
She glanced around the room once more. This shabby, aged “home” contained nothing—not a single crumb that could fill her stomach.
Darkness began to cloud her vision again. Even with her hands gripping the bedframe with all her might, this new body of hers swayed uncontrollably.
It was far too weak.
She didn’t need to examine it. The moment she opened her eyes and understood her situation, she already knew just how frail this “her” was.
Had her willpower and mental fortitude not been exceptionally strong, she might well have died again the instant she crossed over.
Yes. The original owner of this body was already dead.
The original owner shared her surname, but their given names sounded the same yet were written differently: He Tian. She was the youngest daughter of He Da, a hunter from Crescent Village.
Crescent Village lay at the southern foot of Heiku Mountain. As the saying goes, “live off the mountain if you live by it.” The surrounding villages all made their living through hunting, and He Da was a renowned hunter throughout the area. Thus, while his family wasn’t wealthy, they never lacked for food or clothing. He Da and his wife, Liu Erniang, had one son and one daughter, and both were doting parents. As the youngest, He Tian also received extra affection from her elder brother. Compared to other children in the village, He Tian had led a rather happy life.
Two years ago, He Da’s eldest son, He Tian’s brother, He Dong joined the army. With only one child left at home, He Da and Liu Erniang doted on her even more. But good fortune never lasts. Six months ago, He Da slipped and fell from a cliff while hunting. His injuries were severe. The family exhausted all their savings, yet only managed to keep him alive for three months before he passed away.
Liu Erniang, overcome with grief, fell ill shortly after. Once she took to her bed, she never rose from it again.
The costs of He Da’s treatment and funeral had already drained the family’s resources. Liu Erniang’s illness only made things worse. There were several times when the family couldn’t even afford their next meal.
Then misfortune came in pairs. A few days ago, word arrived from the border: He Dong had died in battle. Liu Erniang fainted on the spot upon hearing the news. He Tian, seeing her mother’s condition worsen, had no choice but to kneel at the doorstep of her second uncle and aunt’s home, begging for help. She knelt for an entire day and night, but her uncle and aunt never even showed their faces. Instead, the kneeling ruined her own health. She collapsed and was carried home by villagers. After that, she lay in a coma with a relentless fever.
She burned for three days, and then He Tian crossed over.
Because this body was so weak, and because she had only just arrived, her memories were still somewhat disordered. Her energy was low; she had only managed a rough overview of the original owner’s life. Even so, He Tian couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.
How tragic. A perfectly good family, scattered to the winds. Even He Tian, accustomed to the impermanence of life in the apocalypse, felt a pang of sorrow.
Something occurred to her. Bracing herself with this feeble body—one that could give out at any moment, she shifted toward the bed on the inner side of the room. Reaching out, she checked the breath of Liu Erniang, who lay there.
Truth be told, she didn’t need to move at all. Even from where she’d sat, she could hear Liu Erniang’s breathing and heartbeat.
She just felt that, having taken over the daughter’s body, she ought to be cautious and thorough. It wouldn’t do to mishear something and cause irreversible consequences.
Liu Erniang had been ill for a long time. Her breathing was very faint, but steady. She was not at immediate risk of death.
As she was now, He Tian could barely protect herself, let alone do anything for Liu Erniang. Once she recovered, she would certainly do her utmost to treat Liu Erniang and take good care of her as repayment for inhabiting her daughter’s body.
She could not stand for long. Having confirmed that Liu Erniang’s condition was not yet critical, she turned to move back to bed, to let this broken, weakened body slowly recover.
After a few steps, she suddenly changed direction and moved toward the door.
She was far too hungry. Though there was nothing left to eat in this house, at least finding some water to drink would be a comfort.
Creak.
The old, decaying wooden door emitted a soft sound. The night wind surged in, carrying a chill that slapped directly against He Tian’s face, forcing her eyes into a squint.
But a moment later, her eyes flew wide open.
The moon was full tonight. Beneath its lofty radiance stretched an endless expanse of rolling mountains.
No—not only that.
It was an endless vista of verdant, thriving, life-brimming peaks.
The apocalypse had no such sights, no such mountains.
In that instant, she understood the true meaning of “living off the mountain.”
Once her body recovered a bit—well, no, tomorrow. As soon as it was light out, she would go into the mountains to find food.
A mountain so lush and brimming with life was surely scattered with edible things. At least, for He Tian, anything non-toxic was food.
A flicker of excitement stirred within her.
But it didn’t last long before hunger pierced through her once more.
She steadied herself against the doorframe for a moment, then shuffled slowly toward the water vat on the south side of the kitchen.
Thankfully, the vat was still half full.
She picked up the gourd ladle, scooped up some cold water, and drank in greedy gulps.
It was a cold night in late autumn, and the water kept outdoors was even colder. But He Tian seemed to have lost all sense of temperature. She drank and drank, finishing one ladleful in no time, then scooped another and continued drinking.
Even the water tasted better than anything from the apocalypse. Sweet, clear, and crisp—it coursed straight into her chest and seeped through every inch of her body.
After three ladles, her stomach felt swollen. She set the ladle down and leaned against the rim of the vat, gathering her strength. Yes, even just drinking water had nearly drained her dry.
Still, water staved off hunger for a while. And this was pure, unpolluted mountain spring water, rich in minerals. He Tian could feel her body slowly recovering.
Very, very slowly. If not for her sharp senses, she wouldn’t have noticed at all.
But the discovery lifted her spirits. This body she now inhabited was so fragile it left her deeply unsettled. To know it could recover, that meant all she had to do now was lie low and wait. Even if she couldn’t regain the level of strength she’d had before crossing over, reaching even thirty or fifty percent of her former capacity would be enough to move unhindered through this world.
With that thought, the hunger that had nearly consumed her became a little more bearable.
Her vision cleared again. The first thing she saw was the reflection of a full moon in the water vat and beside it, her own face.
The moment she made out her current features, He Tian who had faced mutated wolf packs without so much as flinching felt a faint pause.
This face…
Pale and bluish. Gaunt. So thin that her eyes seemed disproportionately large, her cheekbones starkly prominent.
It was the face of someone already marked by death.
She looked for a long time before she could detect, in the arch of her brow and the set of her eyes, traces of who she used to be.
She lifted her hand and studied her body in the moonlight.
No wonder. No wonder she felt so weak she could die at any moment.
She was far too thin.
It was clear that life had not been kind to this household lately.
But it would be, from now on.
She raised her gaze to the mountains stretching out not far away. Her heart stirred, barely able to contain its excitement.
She could sense it. Those mountains and deep within them held countless treasures.
At the very least, they would hold enough to fill her stomach and Liu Erniang’s, enough to sustain them both.
There were no forests like this in the apocalypse—so full of life, so full of promise.
**