“Got it, Dad.” What else could Lin Ruxia say? She could only agree to compensate. Not because she thought it was her fault, but simply out of pity for the two children—and also to make it easier for herself to live in the village in the future.
“Dad, Mom, you go ahead and cook and eat first. I’ll handle their matter,” Lin Ruxia said after thinking it over. “Si Bao, you all go play for a while. After they finish cooking, I’ll make noodles for you.” In truth, she hoped Si Bao and the others would help tend the fire later—starting a fire was far too difficult for her.
After returning to her room, Lin Ruxia thought about the medicinal herbs in her space. She shut the doors and windows, then with a flash entered the marketplace space and ran toward that empty room.
The best herbs for replenishing blood were He Shou Wu and ginseng. She wasn’t sure if those herbs were available. When she reached the room, she saw the herbs—and sure enough, there were both He Shou Wu and ginseng, though not many, only a dozen or so plants.
Because Lin Ruxia had studied dermatology in university, she also had a solid understanding of traditional Chinese medicine. Most of the beauty formulas she developed were based on herbal ingredients.
She noticed that the herbs here were all at least two to three hundred years old, with some even over a thousand years. This startled her. Could someone be tending this place? There wasn’t a single weed—only medicinal plants.
The more she thought about it, the more uneasy she felt. “Is anyone here?” she called out. The space remained silent.
She cautiously stepped into the room and called again softly, “Is anyone here?” Everything looked just as it had the first time she entered. After checking carefully again and finding no one, she frowned.
Could it be that the other “owner” hasn’t entered yet? Like me, able to come and go freely? That didn’t seem right—how could a single space have two owners? If someone else existed, they should be able to sense her presence. Besides, her consciousness could observe the entire space—that was how she located the rice and moved it out.
Lin Ruxia quietly extended her awareness and scanned the entire space. There was no one else. She then tried sprinkling some water from the small fountain onto a portion of the herbs. When she realized she could control the objects in the room, she finally relaxed.
“Huh? The herbs I just watered seem to have grown taller—and they look more vibrant, full of life compared to the others!” Her interest in the spring water was instantly piqued.
She tried again, and sure enough, the water caused the herbs to grow. “Could this be some kind of growth stimulant?” But a stimulant shouldn’t be able to restore vitality so instantly, nor did it seem to have any harmful effects.
“C-could this be the ‘spirit spring’ Ah Xin used to talk about?” Back in high school, Ah Xin had loved novels about magical springs, always dreaming of having one. She used to say that with such a spring, one could heal anything—revive the dying, even regrow flesh. When Lin Ruxia chose to specialize in dermatology and develop beauty formulas, Ah Xin often joked that if she had even a drop of spirit spring water, her formulas would become priceless treasures sought after worldwide.
As a skincare expert, Lin Ruxia understood herbs well and could prescribe the right remedies, but the effects were usually mild and slow because she preferred gentle herbs. However, if this spirit spring could maximize the potency of herbs, results might appear much faster.
“Looks like this body of mine can be saved!” she thought. This body was severely weakened—by 21st-century medical standards, it wouldn’t have lived long.
She was about to take a sip when she suddenly thought of the child in her womb. It was too risky. She should test it on something else first.
There were only two chickens at home, belonging to Father Song. Since each household was only allowed to raise two, they hadn’t been divided. Lin Ruxia quickly exited the space, grabbed a bowl, collected a few drops of the spring water, and went to the chicken coop.
The two hens looked listless. She was about to pour the water directly into their trough, but worried it might dry up too quickly, so she picked some wild vegetable leaves, poured the spring water onto them, and placed them in the trough. The hens approached cautiously, then, realizing she wasn’t trying to catch them, pounced on the leaves and quickly devoured them.
She observed them for a while and found that not only were they fine, they had become extremely energetic, clucking nonstop as if expressing excitement—like they had just laid eggs.
Mother Song hurried out of the main hall. “Great! The chickens laid eggs again!” Then she noticed Lin Ruxia by the coop. As she searched inside, she asked, “Ruxia, what are you doing here?”
“I saw they looked a bit overheated, so I gave them some water,” Lin Ruxia said, holding the bowl.
Mother Song hadn’t expected the clucking was just from drinking water. After failing to find any eggs, she said disappointedly, “So they were just thirsty. I must not have left them water this morning.”
“Mom! I heard the chickens too. We’re almost out of eggs—can I have one? You already collected two this morning,” the eldest daughter-in-law shamelessly asked.
“All you think about is eating! You never help feed them, but the moment there are eggs, you come asking for them. If you want one, go find it yourself!” Mother Song snapped and walked away.
“Third sister-in-law, did Mom find any eggs?” the eldest sister-in-law asked after she left.
Lin Ruxia rolled her eyes. “No.” Then she left as well.
Back in her room, Lin Ruxia confirmed that the spirit spring had no harmful effects—it simply revitalized life without draining vitality. Otherwise, the chickens might have collapsed after their burst of energy. There was still the question of whether the effect had a time limit.
I’ll need some equipment to study this… The marketplace should have it, since it contained all kinds of items from around the world.
Still, she decided to set the matter of the spring aside for now. The urgent issue was the old clothes incident. She already had ginseng and He Shou Wu, but how could she take them out without raising suspicion?
The back mountain! she thought.
After planning it out, she went to prepare lunch. She took some dried noodles—common in the 1970s—to the kitchen and found it empty. She put the noodles down and called Liu Bao and Qi Bao to help start the fire. Si Bao and Wu Bao had taken the younger ones out to play, while Ba Bao and Jiu Bao were playing with mole crickets from the fields.
After making vegetable egg noodles, she brought them to the main hall and told Liu Bao and Qi Bao to call the others back to eat.
The main dining table was only used by Father Song, Mother Song, and Lin Ruxia’s family. Since the households had split, the elder brothers’ families ate in their own rooms. With so many children, the rooms—originally about fifty square meters—had become cramped with all their belongings.
Lin Ruxia took Ba Bao and Jiu Bao to wash their hands by the kitchen door and reminded them to do so before meals. The two weren’t twins, but they got along best and were always together.
She noticed that Jiu Bao seemed afraid of her. In the original owner’s memories, Jiu Bao had no playmates except Ba Bao—but Ba Bao often bullied him. The other children didn’t play with him either. When Ba Bao played with others, Jiu Bao would play alone with sand or insects. He seemed almost withdrawn, even avoiding strangers.
When she saw Jiu Bao eating noodles messily—likely because he didn’t know how to use chopsticks—she tried to feed him, but he avoided her and refused to look at her. She didn’t know what to do.
“Ba Bao, hasn’t Jiu Bao used chopsticks before?”
“He uses a spoon. We’ve never eaten this before,” Ba Bao said, stuffing his cheeks. “Mom, this is delicious! I like it!”
Lin Ruxia smiled at his straightforwardness and patted his head. “I’ll make it for you often in the future.”
Suddenly, she noticed her hand had turned dirty. Her body stiffened. “Ba Bao, how long has it been since you washed your hair?”
“A week ago. I swam in the river,” Ba Bao said proudly. “We’re going again this afternoon—I’ll wash it then.”
Used to bathing daily, Lin Ruxia couldn’t accept this. Looking closer, she saw insects in his hair—and upon closer inspection, she recoiled in shock. “Ah—lice!”
“Mom, doesn’t everyone have lice?” Ba Bao asked innocently. In his memory, all village children—and most adults—had them, except those who didn’t work and liked to dress up.
“Everyone? Nonsense—I don’t!” Lin Ruxia exclaimed.
“Does everyone in our family have them?” she asked, struggling to accept it.
“Yes. During the farming off-season, we all sit together and pick lice from each other—except you,” Ba Bao said.
“No way! You children are shaving your heads tomorrow—no, today!” Lin Ruxia declared. She couldn’t live with a group of lice-infested people.
“I don’t want to shave my head! Waaaah!” Jiu Bao, frightened by her tone, covered his head and ran back to the room.
“Jiu Bao, where are you going?” Lin Ruxia was startled. She wanted to chase after him but hesitated, remembering his fear of her. She turned to Ba Bao instead. “Go find him and convince him to shave his head. I’ll give you fifty cents. Deal?”
“Fifty cents? Really? Okay! I’ll go after I finish eating,” Ba Bao said, still focused on his food.
“Go now. I’ll leave two bowls for you. Once you convince him, you can both come back and eat,” she urged.
“Alright… make sure you save it!” Ba Bao said reluctantly, glancing at his half-finished bowl before leaving.
Just as he left, Liu Bao and Qi Bao returned with five mud-covered children. “Mom, we’re back!”