Zhang Xiuying looked at Lin Qianyi’s strikingly beautiful face and sighed inwardly. For an orphaned girl to have such looks was really not a blessing—it was too easy to attract trouble.
In truth, this young woman was already quite well-behaved and proper, yet so many people still had their eyes on her. Now that Ma Zhenqiang had targeted her, it would not be easy for anyone to help her.
In this day and age, who would dare casually offend someone from the Revolutionary Committee? Ma Zhenqiang had even made it clear: no one was allowed to “compete” with him for Lin Qianyi.
The Revolutionary Committee looked powerful and overbearing, but they had done far too many immoral things. Most people did not think Ma Zhenqiang would be a good match at all—especially given his poor character.
Right now, Lin Qianyi’s reputation had already been ruined by this incident with Ma Zhenqiang. No matter that it was not her fault, she was the one forced to bear the shame.
Unless she married someone immediately, ordinary people could not stand up to Ma Zhenqiang. At this point, no one dared to even think about her—she had become someone no one dared to marry.
But finding someone who could resist Ma Zhenqiang wasn’t easy. There were hardly any such people in this county town, unless one looked to the military—but that was even harder.
Or maybe a rural man? People from the countryside were politically “clean,” and perhaps someone there might dare to marry her.
Lin Qianyi was an orphan and worked at a machinery factory. In the end, the union would likely have to worry about her situation—but even they couldn’t force someone to marry her if others refused.
“I’m fine, Sister Zhang, don’t worry. I’ll rest for half a day and I’ll be okay,” Lin Qianyi said with a forced smile.
“No need to rush back to work. Rest well first. I’ll talk to your supervisor—you can make up for the leave after you return,” Zhang Xiuying replied, offering more reassurance and subtly reminding her.
Seeing that Lin Qianyi still looked unwell, she didn’t stay long. After instructing her to rest well, she left.
Once the door closed, Lin Qianyi let out a breath. Her mind was still in chaos, full of thoughts she hadn’t yet sorted out.
She looked around the room. It was a small three-bedroom apartment with a separate bathroom and kitchen. Because Lin Jiancheng and his wife were senior engineers at the machinery factory, their housing conditions were fairly good.
The furniture was simple and typical of the era, but since her parents were intellectuals, the home had a refined, scholarly atmosphere.
Lin Qianyi figured she probably wasn’t going back. Fortunately, she was quite optimistic and adaptable.
It was only 1974 now. If she wanted to change her fate through the college entrance examination, she would still have to wait for it to be reinstated.
Still, she felt strangely grateful—to whatever “transmigration god” existed—for not sending her into the countryside.
Otherwise, someone like her, who couldn’t do hard physical labor, would never survive earning work points in the fields.
She wasn’t trying to look down on herself, but it was the truth: she had no memory before age six, and since then she had lived a pampered life like a little princess. She had never suffered hardship.
She had read novels and documentaries and had some understanding of how harsh this era could be.
Back in school, she once visited a remote rural village with classmates, and even now she still didn’t dare recall what the toilets there were like.
Well then—thank goodness she hadn’t been sent to the countryside to “eat dirt.”
But weren’t transmigration stories supposed to come with benefits? Like a spatial storage system?
Lin Qianyi, bored in her past life, had read many online novels and was familiar with the usual tropes.
Could she be missing something? If so, what? A jade pendant?
Instinctively, she touched her neck.
Her jade pendant was actually still there.
She searched the original owner’s memories—there was no such pendant. So it must have come with her from her previous life.
Her grandmother had said this pendant was already on her when they found her as a child. She had worn it ever since.
Later, she modified the chain so it could be worn as both a bracelet and a necklace.
Over the years, she had even tried to trace her origins through it, but found nothing.
In the grandparents’ home, although she was adopted, she had always seemed more like a young lady from a wealthy family than the others.
Her family often said she must have originally come from an affluent background—her elegance seemed carved into her bones.
Yet strangely, no one ever found any record of a missing child from any wealthy family.
Still, the jade pendant was of extremely high quality—something that would fetch an astronomical price on the market.
Lin Qianyi became excited. If the pendant had come with her, then surely it had to contain a spatial dimension.
She quickly removed it and wondered if she needed to prick her finger and drip blood to activate it.
She rummaged through a sewing kit and picked up a needle—but hesitated. It wasn’t sterilized; could she get tetanus?
She overthought it and got nervous.
Maybe alcohol would help.
After searching for a while, she actually found a half bottle of medical alcohol in a first-aid drawer.
Fine—no more thinking. She disinfected it quickly and steeled herself.
She pricked her finger and pressed it onto the pendant.
Everything blurred.
In an instant, the scene changed.
“Huh… I’m back?”
She exclaimed in surprise, then happily walked inside.
It was her courtyard house in the city—a two-courtyard siheyuan. The front courtyard was her design studio, and the back courtyard was where she lived.
She had appeared in the small courtyard of the second section.
The residence had been renovated but still retained traditional Chinese styling, though equipped with full modern conveniences.
The house was quiet. She called out a few times, but no one responded—where had the housekeeper gone?
She quickly ran to the front courtyard, but it was also empty.
With a thought, she returned instantly to the small apartment. Only then did she understand—it was truly a spatial dimension, not a return to her original world.
Even so, she was thrilled and immediately entered the space again.
Everything was familiar and comforting, except for the absence of people.
Although the courtyard house had modern facilities, the overall interior style remained traditional Chinese.
She also owned a modern villa, but she preferred living in the courtyard house.
She picked up the tablet lying on the arhat couch. It was fully charged, but had no signal.
It still worked normally, except for internet access—but she had downloaded plenty of content beforehand.
She had always had the habit of saving anything interesting to watch later.
Now it turned out to be a very useful habit.
At least she wouldn’t be bored—she could still watch shows or play games offline.
But that wasn’t the most important thing.
She checked the kitchen and storage rooms.
The east wing contained an open kitchen and dining area, with two refrigerators.
She opened one—it was fully stocked. She took out a carton of milk and drank it.
She also spotted a blueberry cake inside and took it out, realizing she hadn’t eaten breakfast yet.
After finishing the milk and cake, she walked toward the front courtyard, where her design studio was located.