This dinner brought mixed feelings—some were pleased, others worried.
Of course, Qiu Hanlu’s family was naturally on the pleased side, having eaten well and plenty.
As for the main house, not a single face looked happy. Even now, they still hadn’t come up with a good way to counter them. Qiu Guangwan’s family was like a piece of stubborn meat on a chopping board—impervious to both soft and hard tactics, completely off the beaten path.
After the meal, Qiu Hanlu called her family back to their room, having no spare thought for clearing the dishes.
Once Qiu Hanlu and the others had left, Mrs. Wang angrily smashed a bowl, but in the end, it did no good—just wasted a rice bowl.
The main issue was that Mrs. Wang didn’t want to lose this free labor so easily. She felt that since they’d been obedient for so many years, they wouldn’t slip out of her control so readily, and there would always be a way to make them obey again. But for the moment, she couldn’t think of any good strategy, and frustration simmered inside her.
Back in their room, Qiu Hanlu took down the half-bag of food she’d hidden earlier from the roof beam and said to Madam Zheng, “Mother, I reckon we won’t need these, and leaving them here would be a waste. How about we send some to Grandmother’s place tomorrow?”
She knew her maternal grandmother lived in the neighboring village and had been very good to the original owner of this body, but she was poor. Since her grandfather had passed away early, Grandmother had raised her mother and two uncles all by herself. Those years had been hard, but whenever she had a bit of food, she still thought of them.
As for her eldest sister—she couldn’t send anything there for now. Her sister’s mother-in-law was a notorious gossip for miles around, and nothing could be allowed to reach her ears, or it would be like telling the whole neighborhood.
Madam Zheng and Qiu Guangwan stared at the pile of food, stunned, and said in unison, “This much?”
Qiu Hanlu smiled. “We used to go hungry all the time, so I grabbed a bit extra.”
Qiu Guangwan smiled too. “You really have changed, child. But that’s fine—from now on, we all need to change as well. Tomorrow, I’ll find a moment to sneak over to your grandmother’s place and deliver these.”
Madam Zheng was still a little tense. “If you sneak over, make sure the main house doesn’t find out.”
This family had always been harmonious, and now they had a bit more hope.
Meanwhile, in a rundown temple on the outskirts of the county town, a masked man with a wounded shoulder tore open his clothes, revealing a gruesome gash on his shoulder.
He pulled out a porcelain bottle from his waist, sprinkled hemostatic medicine on the wound, tore a strip of white cloth from the inside of his garment, and bandaged the injury. Then he closed his eyes to rest for a moment, planning to wait until dark before entering the town.
Earlier that day, he’d received a lead that the weapon blueprint he’d been searching for had appeared at Jing’an Temple near Fenggu Village. He’d taken his men to look for it, only to walk into an ambush. All his companions had been killed—he alone had escaped alive. That blueprint wasn’t just something the nation needed; it was also tied to the murderer of his mother and maternal grandfather. He had to find it.
Lost in thought, he drifted off to sleep. When he opened his eyes again, it was fully dark.
But by then, he sensed something was wrong. His whole body was chilled, trembling violently. He knew it was a high fever from the wound—and it was severe.
The masked man knew he couldn’t light a fire here; it would easily draw the enemy’s attention. But he was freezing to death, and he knew full well that in this state, he wouldn’t hold out much longer.
Suddenly, his hand brushed against a paper packet in his chest—the medicine that strange girl in Fenggu Village had given him today.
He took it out and unwrapped it. Staring at the odd pills, he wasn’t sure if he could trust her. But recalling the look in that girl’s eyes, he felt a strange calm settle over him. He had no choice now—he could only gamble once.
He picked up two white pills and swallowed them, then leaned against the pillar, waiting for the unknown outcome.
Half an hour later, his fever had broken, and some of his strength had returned. He pushed himself up using the pillar, left the ruined temple, and used Qinggong to depart, entering Jilong County Town.
He grew curious about the girl who had given him the medicine. She was young, had no Neigong, yet had remained so composed and calm in the face of danger—it truly baffled him. More importantly, the medicine itself: such strange pills were something he’d never seen before.
Could she be a disciple of the Ghost Grass King? Aside from the Ghost Grass King, he couldn’t think of anyone else with such medical skill, capable of refining such powerful medicine.
But the Ghost Grass King didn’t take female disciples. He really couldn’t figure it out. Once his wounds healed, he would definitely go investigate.
Qiu Hanlu knew nothing of this. She’d assumed the matter of giving away medicine during the day had ended. Now she lay on the heated brick bed, shivering under a quilt that let the wind through from every tear, thinking only of earning money quickly to improve this life. Winter was coming—if they didn’t split from the family soon, they’d freeze to death first.
Madam Zheng draped her own cotton-padded jacket over Qiu Hanlu and Qiu Ruifeng respectively. “If you’re cold, huddle together.”
Qiu Hanlu scooted closer to Madam Zheng. Though the bed still held a bit of warmth, it couldn’t compete with the drafty windows and the tattered quilt.
Suddenly, she thought of the Spatial Dimension, but she had no idea how to summon it. And in the house, it definitely wasn’t the right place to try.
Once she heard everyone’s even breathing and knew they were all asleep, Qiu Hanlu got off the kang, went out the door, and in the outer room, facing the wall, she concentrated hard, thinking about the Spatial Dimension appearing.
Unexpectedly, that Light Portal really did appear. Qiu Hanlu quickly stepped inside.
She tugged at the door of the medicine room, and it still opened. She came out of the medicine room and went to open the second door, the library—it opened as well.
Delighted, she walked in. It was very large inside, not much different from the library at her university. She hurried over, grabbed a book, and flipped through it—all modern books. This was amazing; she could look up information on anything she wanted to do.
Even more thrilling, there were calligraphy practice books here too. With paper and brush, she could easily earn money on her own.
Coming out of the library, she saw that the third door also had writing on it—Supermarket.
She hurried to open the supermarket door. This was the one she wanted most, because if she could get in, there would be quilts, food, daily necessities, and skincare products. But… the door wouldn’t open.
Hearing what sounded like noise outside the Light Portal, she quickly came out, and the Light Portal vanished immediately.
Madam Zheng, stepping out, saw Qiu Hanlu and asked, “Are you all right? Don’t go out, whatever you do—there’s haunting in the backyard.”
Only then did Qiu Hanlu remember that matter. Recently, in the direction of the backyard, there had been hauntings. Every midnight, a woman’s cry could be heard—a miserable, chilling sound. So these past few nights, aside from going to the outhouse, no one went to the backyard, all afraid of touching something unclean. She didn’t believe it was a ghost; she figured someone must have some grievance.
But tonight she hadn’t heard the woman’s crying, and she didn’t say much about it. She said to Madam Zheng, “Mother, I didn’t go out. It’s just that today’s food was salty, and I got a bit thirsty, so I came out for some water.”
Madam Zheng was reassured: “We usually eat so little oil and fat; when we suddenly eat it, we always get thirsty. Hurry back inside—it’s cold out there.”
Qiu Hanlu acknowledged and followed Madam Zheng back into the house.
Back inside and on the kang, Qiu Hanlu still couldn’t sleep, because the more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed. Had she really transmigrated? And there was a Spatial Dimension too—everything felt like a lie?
She pinched herself—it really hurt. It was real. So she had transmigrated?
In this state of confusion, she drifted off to sleep, and even had a dream—she couldn’t tell if it was modern or ancient, all jumbled up.
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