Jiang Wan bolted upright.
Above her head wasn’t a white ceiling—it was a pitch-black roof beam, draped with fine cobwebs.
Her pupils dilated with terror.
The smell of mold, the smell of medicine, and a hint of…
The smell of poverty!
All sorts of odors surged wildly into her heaving chest.
As her thoughts scattered, memories crashed over her like a tidal wave.
Yongxing Town, the Zhou family, marriage, conscription, debt…
She saw a man walking away from her, his back turned. He wore a gray short jacket, a cloth bundle slung over his shoulder, and he never looked back.
That was the original owner’s husband.
Three days ago—on the very day she married into the family—he had been conscripted by the imperial authorities.
She saw an old woman with graying hair kneeling on the main street, weeping, kowtowing so hard that her forehead had turned bruised.
She saw a girl of thirteen or fourteen squatting in front of the stove, staring blankly at a pot of burnt porridge…
And finally.
She saw a ledger.
Zhou’s General Store owed Chen’s Grain Shop twenty-three taels and four qian of silver.
Dragged from the third month to the seventh. Due by the end of the month.
A bitter fate, a frail body, suffocating emotions—layer upon layer…
All of it pressed down on this poor seventeen-year-old girl until she could barely breathe.
In the dead of night, her life came to an abrupt end…
What’s today’s date, anyway?
Jiang Wan looked down at her hands.
No phone. No watch.
Her knuckles were large, her fingertips rough, and a few pale scars from healed cuts ran across her index finger.
These weren’t her hands.
Her hands weren’t particularly pretty, but at least her nails had been clean.
She’d gotten a manicure last month.
Nude color. Group-buy deal, cost her twenty-nine ninety.
Now it was gone.
Even the job she’d just started yesterday—4,500 a month, one day off per week, full social insurance.
Gone too.
She’d finally escaped her gambling-addict father and landed a job she actually wanted, and now all of it was gone.
She wanted to cry but had no tears.
She hadn’t even finished paying off her Huabei balance, and now she had to repay twenty-three taels of silver?!
Oh… twenty-three taels and four qian.
Just as she was wallowing in misery—
A soft knock came at the door, followed by a timid voice, as faint as a kitten’s mew.
“Sister-in-law? Are you awake?”
Jiang Wan said nothing.
“Sister-in-law?” The voice called again, now tinged with tears. “Accountant Chen is here again… Mother sent me to fetch you…”
Jiang Wan closed her eyes.
She took a deep breath.
Once. Twice. Three times…
She opened her eyes, rose to her feet, and answered, “Coming.”
Dawn was just breaking.
The front shop of the general store was even more dilapidated than the courtyard behind it.
Three rows of shelves—two and a half of them empty.
On the remaining half-row sat a few packets of damp spices and several bundles of yellowed tissue paper. A pitiful sight.
Seated in front of the counter was a middle-aged man.
Round face, short beard, dressed in a half-new blue silk robe.
His eyes were half-closed, his fingers tapping on the counter—one tap at a time, unhurried.
Hearing Jiang Wan come out, he opened his eyes and stood up.
He clasped his hands in greeting, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Madam Zhou, pardon the intrusion.”
Jiang Wan walked behind the counter and stood still.
She didn’t speak. She glanced at Accountant Chen first, then swept her eyes over the ledger spread open on the counter.
The last entry was from the seventh day of the sixth month: sold half a catty of crude salt, collected thirty-five wen.
Accountant Chen waited a few seconds. When she didn’t respond, he spoke up himself.
“Madam Zhou, your mother-in-law said you’re the one in charge of the Zhou household now. About that debt…”
“Twenty-three taels and four qian.” Jiang Wan spoke flatly. “The agreement was to repay by the end of the month. Today is the twenty-seventh—four days left.”
This was the bride price the Zhou family had paid to marry her.
Under her stepmother Madam Su’s silver-tongued persuasion, the original owner had been painted as a perfect wife—one who could read and write, handle an abacus, bring prosperity to the family, and bless her husband with good fortune.
After a whole heap of smooth talk and coaxing,
the Zhou family—merchants renowned throughout Yongxing Town for their “honesty”—had scraped together thirty-eight taels of silver and married her, the daughter of a fallen scholar, into their home before their son left.
They’d hoped that after the father and son were gone, the weak wife and young daughter left behind would have someone to take charge.
Sell the shop, pay off the debts, and scrape by…
Accountant Chen was taken aback.
When he’d come yesterday, this young wife had red-rimmed eyes and said nothing. Why was she different today?
“That’s right.” He nodded. “Madam Zhou, it’s not that I’m being unreasonable. My master said that if the debt isn’t repaid by the end of the month, we’ll take goods from the shop to cover it.”
There was hardly anything left in this shop worth taking.
The only thing that could cover the debt was the shop itself.
Jiang Wan frowned. “Half a month.”
Accountant Chen raised an eyebrow.
“Give me half a month more.” She lifted her head, meeting Accountant Chen’s gaze directly, her voice calm. “In half a month, I’ll repay you thirty taels, principal and interest. If I can’t, the shop is yours.”
Accountant Chen’s smile faded.
He looked this woman over again.
Sallow-faced and gaunt, with dark circles under her eyes.
But standing there, her spine was straight as a rod.
“Thirty taels?” He repeated.
“The extra six taels and six qian is interest. Half a month, thirty percent.” Jiang Wan’s tone grew firmer. “Even your Chen family’s usury loans don’t charge rates that high, do they?”
Accountant Chen said nothing.
He stared at Jiang Wan for a long moment, then suddenly smiled.
“What will you use to pay it back?”
“That’s my business.” Jiang Wan refused to discuss how she would repay the money, instead tossing the question back to Accountant Chen. “You just ask your master—does he want to do business or not?”
The air froze for an instant.
The shop was so quiet that only the sound of their breathing could be heard.
“Madam Zhou.” Accountant Chen stood up and pushed his stool back. “How is it I never noticed before that you’re so good with words?”
Jiang Wan smiled but said nothing.
Accountant Chen lowered his head, smoothing his long sleeves, his words laden with meaning. “That thirty taels the Zhou family spent was well worth it!”
“Fine, half a month it is.” He stepped toward the door, then paused at the threshold.
Accountant Chen turned his head. “You said it yourself. Thirty taels—if you can’t produce it by then, this shop belongs to our master.”
He left.
The sound of his footsteps faded gradually along the bluestone road, until it disappeared entirely…
Jiang Wan stood still, her palms slick with sweat.
Thirty taels of silver, half a month…
She had no idea where to begin.
But she knew one thing.
If she hadn’t said that, the shop would have been pawned off today.
And then what?
A half-dead patient, a half-blind old woman, a half-grown child, and a half-familiar version of herself.
Four mouths to feed, sleeping on the street in a neat row?
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and turned to walk toward the back courtyard.
Just as she lifted the door curtain, she saw Zhou Xiaohe crouched in the corner of the wall.
She was covering her mouth with both hands, tears streaming through her fingers, her whole body curled into a tiny ball.
“Sis… sister-in-law…” she sobbed. “Thirty taels… how are we ever going to pay that back…”
Jiang Wan looked at her.
A fourteen-year-old girl, thin as a bean sprout, her hair dry and yellow.
In her era, this girl would be in the second year of middle school, perhaps worrying about failing an exam.
But now, she was crouched in the corner of a broken courtyard, crying.
Because the pillars of her household—one had fallen, one had walked away.
In a home stripped bare, they owed a crushing debt of thirty taels.
Jiang Wan walked over, crouched down, and gripped her bony shoulders.
“Stop crying.”
Zhou Xiaohe sniffled, tears still clinging to her face.
Jiang Wan ruffled her hair and said softly, “Go brew the medicine. Your father needs to take his dose.”
Zhou Xiaohe let out an “Mm.”
She wiped her face, stumbled to her feet, and ran toward the back courtyard.
Jiang Wan stood up and continued walking.
As she passed the main room, her mother-in-law, Madam Yu, stood outside the door, clutching a handkerchief whose original color was impossible to tell.
She was under forty, but looked over sixty—hair streaked with gray, back hunched.
Seeing Jiang Wan, her lips trembled several times before tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Wan’er…”
Jiang Wan rubbed her brow with some exasperation and sighed. “You stop crying too.”
She paused, feeling that might have been a bit harsh, then added, “Crying won’t solve anything, and your eyes can’t take much more of it.”
Madam Yu froze, momentarily forgetting to sob.
Perhaps no one had ever said those words to her before.
She didn’t know what else she could do at a time like this, other than cry to ease the heaviness in her chest.
Jiang Wan ignored her reaction and walked straight into her in-laws’ room.
The smell of medicine, of dampness.
And the stale odor of one long confined to bed by illness.
Zhou Xianggui lay on the bed, covered by a thin quilt patched all over.
A year ago, he had fallen from a mountain while on his way to pick up goods.
He’d injured his lower back and never fully recovered. Then he caught a chill, and he’d been bedridden ever since.
Hearing footsteps, he slowly turned his head.
His cheekbones jutted out sharply, but his eyes were still clear.
“Your mother told me everything.” He spoke, his voice very soft. “Thirty taels, half a month.”
Jiang Wan sat down by the bedside, listening quietly.
Zhou Xianggui looked at her. “This body of mine won’t be recovering anytime soon. Half a month—where are you going to find thirty taels of silver?”
“I don’t know.” Jiang Wan answered bluntly.
Choked by her directness, Zhou Xianggui’s blood rushed upward, and he coughed so hard his whole body shook.
Jiang Wan reached out to steady him, but just as her fingers touched his back, a “ding” sounded in her mind.
A translucent panel suddenly materialized before her eyes.
She turned her wrist and swept it toward the panel.
Her fingertips passed through it.
It rippled like water, then re-formed.
[Host detected on the brink of bankruptcy. System emergency activation.]
[Pinduoduo: Cross-Temporal Edition]
[User: Jiang Wan]
[Pickup Point: Back Courtyard Water Vat (changeable)]
[Sellable Items: Local World Goods]
[Notice: Deposit local world goods into the Pickup Point. The System will settle payment in RMB, which can be used to purchase Platform Merchandise.]
Jiang Wan stared at the panel, not blinking.
[Sellable Items: Local World Goods.]
Meaning—she could sell ancient-world items to Pinduoduo in exchange for RMB, then use that RMB to buy things on Pinduoduo?
And in the back-and-forth, profit from the gap in technological development?!
She fixed her gaze on those four characters—”Sellable Items”—her mind racing.
Sell what?
What could she sell?
Newly arrived, she had nothing to her name but the pitiful memories left by the original owner of this body.
Jiang Wan lowered her head, tugging at the thin, flimsy clothes on her, then looked up at the old tiled-roof house before her.
There was nothing here.
But behind the shop, there was a mountain.
Yongxing Town sat nestled between two mountain ridges—no matter which way you went, you’d run into mountains.
On the mountains: trees, grass, rocks, medicinal herbs, wild vegetables, wild fruits…
These things weren’t worth much in ancient times, but if brought to the modern world, they’d be genuine top-tier goods!
Slap on a sign reading “All-Natural Wild Mountain Produce,” and plenty of city folks would pay a premium for them.
Her heart suddenly began to race.
Thumping, thumping—almost leaping out of her chest.
“Xiao Wan?” Zhou Xianggui had finally managed to stop coughing and was staring at her with a puzzled look. “What’s wrong? If it’s really too much, we can just close the shop…”
Jiang Wan stared blankly at the glowing screen before her, cutting him off. “Father… can’t you see it?”