Su Ci sat by the window seat and pulled the curtain closed, blocking out prying eyes from outside.
The passengers around her were all gnawing on dry, crumbly flatbread and drinking cold water.
Leaning back against the stiff seat, Su Ci’s consciousness slipped instantly into her private space.
At the top floor of a shopping mall, a genuine leather sofa felt soft and comfortable.
On the dining table in front of her sat a freshly baked Beef Wellington—its pastry golden and crisp, the beef inside juicy and tender.
Beside it was a glass of sparkling water with ice, droplets of condensation clinging to the sides.
Su Ci cut off a piece of beef and put it into her mouth.
The juices burst across her tongue, the rich texture so indulgent it made her want to swallow her tongue along with it.
Lu Ye?
That legendary rough-and-tough military officer—over 1.9 meters tall and built like solid muscle?
And those three future bigshots who would one day dominate their own territories?
Since she had taken over this “script,” then becoming the queen of this island was a certainty.
As for Su Baozhu?
Hopefully, she could still smile so happily while serving that entire difficult family at the factory director’s house.
“First stop: the island. I’m here.”
Su Ci swallowed the last bite of steak and narrowed her eyes in satisfaction.
Just then, the train’s loudspeaker crackled to life:
“Emergency announcement… Recently, the stationed troops on the island have encountered a severe typhoon. Transportation of supplies is difficult. Military family members are requested to prepare themselves mentally…”
A wave of sighs swept through the carriage.
“Oh dear, those military families going to the island are going to have it rough. They’ll probably go hungry.”
“I heard even fresh water there has to be rationed.”
Listening to the chatter, Su Ci touched the mountain of braised pork cans, self-heating hot pots, and tons of bottled water stored in her space.
Go hungry?
Not a chance.
This wasn’t going to suffer.
This was basically targeted poverty relief.
The green train was like a dark emerald python.
It lay sprawled across the tracks, huffing and puffing heavily.
Su Ci squeezed into the carriage with her luggage.
The moment she stepped inside, a wave of heat mixed with an indescribable sour stench hit her like a blow.
It was overwhelming.
The smell of days-old sweat, rotting foot odor, the harsh sting of low-quality tobacco—
Even the foul stench of chicken and duck droppings from live poultry carried onboard.
All of it stewed and fermented in the sealed, sweltering carriage—basically a biochemical weapon.
Her stomach churned violently.
The carriage was packed.
The luggage racks were stuffed with woven bags that looked ready to fall at any moment.
Women sat in the aisle nursing babies, while dirty children ran around everywhere.
There wasn’t even a place to step.
“Move aside! Make way!”
A burly man behind her pushed forward, carrying a shoulder pole.
The rough end nearly jabbed into her lower back.
Su Ci quickly stepped aside, but her faded old shirt still got smeared with dust.
Holding her breath, she struggled through the crowd using the seat number on her ticket as a guide.
Finally—
She found her “throne” by the window in the middle section.
A hard seat.
In this era, even getting a hard seat was considered respectable.
But when Su Ci lowered her head to look, her beautiful face almost cracked.
The faux leather seat was coated in a layer of greasy black grime.
The crevices were filled with old sunflower seed shells and dried brown tea stains from who knew when.
Next to it sat an older woman.
She had taken off her shoes, sitting cross-legged. One hand dug grime from between her toes while the other tossed sunflower seeds into her mouth.
She didn’t bother catching the shells—just spat them out onto the little table with popping sounds.
Like a scattering of flower petals.
Su Ci’s scalp tingled in disgust.
This wasn’t going to the island to join the military.
This was undergoing a trial.
She stood still in the aisle.
The people behind her, blocked, began to complain impatiently:
“Hey, young lady, are you sitting or not? If not, don’t block the way!”
The toe-picking woman next to her glanced up.
She sized Su Ci up and down, noticing her soft skin and clean (though old) clothes, and sneered:
“City girl, aren’t you?”
“Think it’s dirty? Then go ride a car. Why take the train and suffer?”
After speaking, she tossed another seed into her mouth and deliberately spat the shell loudly.
Su Ci ignored her.
Not only did she not sit, she placed her large bag onto the seat.
Claiming it.
Then, under the bewildered gazes of others, she calmly unzipped it.
Using the bag as cover, her hand slipped into her storage space.
When she took it out, she held a neatly folded piece of dark blue floral cloth.
It was actually a silk scarf from Hermès’ latest collection.
To avoid attention, she had chosen a pattern that looked like old-fashioned fabric and had cut off the label.
But the material—pure silk.
Smooth as a baby’s skin, breathable and resistant to dirt.
With swift movements, Su Ci spread the scarf over the filthy seat, tucking the edges into the gaps and smoothing it flat.
The greasy hard seat instantly became a glossy, high-end seat.
But she wasn’t done.
She took out a small cloth pouch.
It was a simple sachet she had sewn from a handkerchief.
Inside, cotton balls soaked in Jo Malone Bluebell perfume.
Dominant.
And refined.
The thick stench of feet and sweat around her was forcibly pushed back by the fresh fragrance.
Only after finishing all this did Su Ci take out a pack of alcohol wipes.
Rip—
She tore it open and wiped the small table in front of her—again and again, three times in total.
Only when the surface was clean enough to reflect her face did she throw the dirty wipe into her own trash bag.
She let out a breath.
Then sat down gracefully.
Everyone around her was stunned.
Fabric coupons were precious these days!
Who wouldn’t save cloth for making clothes or shoes?
And this wasteful woman used it to sit on?!
What a waste!
“Tsk tsk, such bourgeois behavior. So pretentious!”
The toe-picking woman stopped eating seeds.
Her eyes were glued to the cloth under Su Ci, itching with greed.
If she could snatch it while the girl slept, she could make a nice bellyband for her grandson…
Su Ci pretended not to notice.
She leaned back against the soft silk “seat cover,” relaxing.
From her bag, she took out a chipped enamel mug and poured herself some water.
It was Evian from her space—clear and sweet.
She sipped slowly, her gaze falling on the withered trees flashing past outside the window.
The murmurs around her grew louder.
“So arrogant, who does she think she is?”
“Yeah, acting special like that.”
Some even pointed fingers, accusing her of being unsociable.
Su Ci listened until her ears grew numb.
She set down her cup, lightly clenched her fist, and brought it to her pale lips.
Her shoulders suddenly shook.
“Cough… cough cough cough!”
A violent coughing fit erupted.
Her whole body trembled.
Her originally pale face flushed red, veins bulging at her neck, tears forced from the corners of her eyes.
This part wasn’t an act.
The original body really was weak.
Even though the scent had masked the smell, her throat was still irritated.
It felt like she might cough her lungs out.
She pulled out a clean white handkerchief and covered her mouth tightly.
Gasping, her chest rose and fell dramatically.
When she looked up again, her eyes were fragile and broken, like a porcelain doll.
“Everyone… I’m really sorry…”
Her voice was weak and hoarse, making hearts tremble:
“My body is frail. I’ve been raised on medicine since childhood.”
“The doctor said my lungs can’t handle any dust or smells… otherwise… cough cough…”
She deliberately left the sentence unfinished.
There was a hint of fear in her eyes, as if she was terrified of infecting others.
In this era, “lung disease” was practically a death sentence.
Contagious.
And incurable.
The crowd that had been criticizing her fell silent instantly.
The older woman who had wanted to touch the cloth shrank back in fear.
She didn’t even bother putting her shoes back on, pulling her foot off the seat and squeezing toward the aisle.
As far away as possible.
“Oh my, no wonder her face is so pale—she’s got that illness…”
“Stay away! If it spreads, we’re done for!”
“Poor thing… why go out if you’re so sick?”
A vacuum instantly formed around Su Ci.
The cramped space suddenly became much wider.
Even the air seemed fresher.
Inside, Su Ci felt secretly pleased.
She leaned weakly against the window, wiping the corner of her eyes.
Her lowered lashes hid the sly glint in her gaze.
Sure enough—
Only magic can defeat magic.
If she didn’t want to suffer, no one could make her suffer.
The train clattered on for hours.
The sun tilted westward.
It was time to eat.
The carriage became lively again as the smell of food spread.
Everyone took out their provisions.
Those worse off gnawed on coarse black buns—hard as stone, needing effort to chew and water to swallow.
Those better off had mixed-grain steamed buns or boiled eggs.
The toe-picking woman next to her stopped picking her feet.
She took out a yellow cornmeal cake and chewed loudly.
While chewing, she looked around smugly.
These days, even pure cornmeal without sweet potato filler counted as a good life.