Ruan An’an took everything of value in the side yard that could be moved and stored it in her space.
Heavy brass candlesticks, sets of gold-trimmed bone china tableware, a brand-new Butterfly sewing machine, and a shiny Forever two-eight bicycle.
Even half a bottle of sesame oil or a few pounds of dried noodles in the kitchen weren’t spared.
Haishi was a dangerous place—a lion’s den or tiger’s lair. She didn’t know how long she’d be stuck there, so she might as well clear everything out first!
By the time the first light of dawn appeared, Ruan An’an, who had been working through the night, was stomach-growling hungry.
She shut her bedroom door, slipped into her space, and headed straight for the storage room. She pulled out her treasured canned ham and instant noodles, then set up a small coal stove.
She added some traditionally pressed peanut oil to the pot. Sizzle! The oil hit the pan, releasing a rich, savory aroma that instantly filled the space.
It made her mouth water.
In those days, ingredients were real and substantial—no shortcuts.
The ham was thick and salty, the noodles chewy and springy, and she cooked it all into a steaming hot “army hotpot.”
Back when she was a pampered young lady, she wouldn’t have even batted an eyelash at such food. Now, it smelled divine!
Ruan An’an held the bowl, paying no attention to manners, slurping it up until her forehead was sweaty.
Her stomach warm and full, she finally felt alive again.
Satisfied, a wave of drowsiness hit her like a tidal wave.
Just as her eyelids began to droop, the control panel in front of her lit up with a buzz:
[Beep! Green plums on the back hill are ripe and ready for harvest!]
[Harvest?]
Half-asleep, Ruan An’an thought, Yes.
[Harvest successful!]
[Unlocked: Food Processing Workshop]
[Unlocked Recipe: Green Plum Wine]
[Preparation Time: 20 minutes]
[Unlocked Recipe: Army Hotpot]
[Preparation Time: 15 minutes]
Army Hotpot? Green Plum Wine?
Ruan An’an jolted awake, sitting straight up.
Ah, so that’s how it works! Her mind raced as she quickly pieced it together.
First, the back hill’s produce combined with existing stockpiles of Maotai and rock sugar automatically unlocked the green plum wine recipe in the space.
Second, foreign dishes like the army hotpot had to be made manually for the space to remember the recipe.
Good stuff! Her eyes lit up as she tapped her fingers in midair, selecting to make ten jars of green plum wine.
Satisfied with the processing notifications, she collapsed back into bed and fell into a deep sleep.
She woke up to the chatter of people outside her window, the voices low but tinged with excitement.
“Liu Po, do you think Luo Guifen will pay us for fixing the pigpen?”
The familiar soft Wu dialect from Liu Po, full of exaggerated concern, reached her ears:
“Oh, I don’t know! You didn’t see it yourself! That Wang the Cripple, tsk tsk, when they carried him back, he was barely alive! Not a piece of skin left unscathed. That guy… he’s done for!”
The words “Wang the Cripple” stabbed sharply into Ruan An’an’s drowsy brain.
He’s awake?!
He wouldn’t go blabbing about what she did to knock him out with the stun gun last night, would he?
Sleep completely gone, she hurriedly put on clothes.
Opening her door, she plastered on a terrified, pitiful expression and walked unsteadily into the small garden.
“Liu Po…” Her voice was husky from sleep, trembling with timidity. “I… I just heard… Wang the Cripple is back? How… how is he?”
She deliberately leaned on the doorframe, her face pale and lips trembling—perfectly the image of a frightened young lady.
“Oh, An’an!” Liu Po immediately felt her heart ache, patting her thigh. “Sit down, sit down! Look at that pale little face—you must have been scared! Husband, go bring the corn porridge I made this morning and those two vegetable buns! An’an must be starving!”
Her husband ran off to fetch it.
Soon, several kind neighbors set up a small low table in Ruan An’an’s garden.
A few women and young brides sat around her, watching her eat while chattering away.
Perhaps because she was used to the refined rations in her space, the coarse corn porridge and vegetable buns tasted uniquely delicious to her.
The natural aroma of the corn, the chewy rough buns with a surprising sweetness after chewing—it was a pleasure.
She ate carefully in small bites, showing great appreciation.
Watching her devour the food, Liu Po sighed heavily and nudged the others: “See! Look at her! A literate young lady, ruined by that Xu family. She can’t even get a proper meal!”
Immediately, six or seven pairs of sympathetic eyes fell on Ruan An’an.
Ruan An’an feigned vulnerability, softly asking: “Auntie, you just said… you’re helping Aunt Luo build a pigpen? Can I help somehow? Even if I’m small, I can lend a hand…”
Her gaze was sincere, a little desperate to repay the kindness.
“Oh, my silly girl!” Liu Po waved her hands, a mix of exasperation and affection. “That filthy place isn’t for your delicate little hands. Smells terrible! Besides…”
She suddenly leaned in, voice lowered, eyes darting around cautiously:
“Let me tell you something important! Wang the Cripple… he’s gone mad! Totally crazy, snapping at anyone and everyone! All he keeps saying is that it’s the Xu family, that black-hearted mother and son, who did this to him! An’an, listen to me—stay as far away from that cursed family as you can!”
A nearby young bride chimed in: “Exactly! What’s Aunt Luo’s temper like? Her son was ruined by the Xu family, she won’t let it slide. Just wait—Xu family won’t get away with it!”
Through the neighbors’ gossip, Ruan An’an quickly pieced together the truth.
Wang the Cripple was ruined, gone mad.
Upon waking, he had turned into a rabid dog, biting at the Xu mother and son, blaming them for everything.
And she, Ruan An’an, the true “mastermind,” now appeared to everyone as the bullied, helpless victim of the Xu family.
She lowered her eyes, nibbling at a bun, a cold smile hidden in her mind.
Lucky for him, but this was fine—it saved her from getting her hands bloody.
Crisis averted, Ruan An’an suppressed a smirk, set down her bowl, and got up weakly and delicately:
“You’re right, Aunties… I’ll go handle things right away.”
She pretended to search inside, but secretly pulled seven or eight bright red apples from her space, putting them into nets and distributing them to the kind neighbors:
“Thank you, Aunties, for your concern. Just a few fruits—hope they bring you some sweetness.”
After bidding farewell, Ruan An’an took the relevant documents and headed straight to the street office to withdraw her marriage application.