On Sang Zhi’s original bed sat a two-meter-tall plush toy, a gift she had received when she became an adult and her companion for many years. Out of habit, and with the night unusually quiet, the half-asleep Sang Zhi instinctively wrapped her limbs around it, pressing her head against the toy’s neck. Perhaps because of the cold, she unconsciously pressed closer to the warmth, and her soft arms gripped the “doll” a little tighter.
Jiang Yan, under the effects of medication, was less alert than usual. When the fragrance reached him, he saw long black hair and a pale arm slipping into his embrace. The figure pressed against him intimately, and warm breath caressed his neck. The scent on her body was the same as the one lingering in his nose when he was near death. For a moment, he could not tell reality from a dream.
Soon, Sang Zhi realized something was wrong. The plush toy in her arms moved—and its size and texture were all wrong. The heat of the skin pressed against hers was nearly scalding. Her first thought was that the mother and daughter had pulled some trick. Yet the surroundings didn’t match her bedroom. The familiar smell of disinfectant and the arrangement of the room felt like a hospital. The person in her arms was more cautious than she was.
After a dizzying moment, she found herself pinned beneath a man, his arm pressed tightly against her throat. The hospital room was dim, and only then did she notice his eyes. Sharp in shape, with long lashes like curved blades when he lowered his gaze, his dark, profound eyes seemed to draw one’s soul into their depths. Full of authority and stunningly attractive, he exuded a heavy pressure. Their breaths mingled intimately.
But Sang Zhi was not so easily swayed by beauty. When he seriously asked who she was and reached for the lamp cord, she struck his Fengchi acupuncture point. The Fengchi point belongs to the hand and foot yang meridians and the Du meridian; when struck with the right force, it renders someone unconscious. His astonished collapse gave her a private sense of satisfaction.
Pushing the man off her, Sang Zhi recognized him. Wasn’t he the one she had saved at the station that day? How did he end up here? She didn’t think anyone could silently move a sleeping person to another bed. Before she could puzzle over it, the scene changed again—she was back in her small room at the timber factory’s residential compound.
A mechanical voice sounded:
“Merit space reset successful. Due to chaos during activation, the bound user’s space was disordered. To compensate the host, 100 merit points have been issued. Note: merit points are a currency within the merit mall, exchangeable for any item there, with a conversion rate of 10:1 relative to the host’s temporal-spatial price level. During use, large gift packs may be triggered. Host, please strive diligently to reach life’s peak.”
A system panel appeared, gray and plain, showing two red blinking dots in the progress bar: one for the 100 points compensation, and one for the 100 points earned from saving someone during the day. That explained how she had ended up on the man’s bed—an unreliable system error had placed her with the merit points target. Since it was a “golden finger” benefit, the man hadn’t noticed her appearance and didn’t care.
The merit mall was filled with items: large supermarkets, boutique clothing, books, parent-child entertainment, parts and accessories. Fortunately, prices were adjusted to the era’s level, and her current merit points had the purchasing power of 20 yuan—small but better than nothing. Thinking of it, she “absorbed” a cup into the space, then brought it back out. It seemed the space responded to her will.
Having spent her previous life learning to survive, she felt confident she could protect herself. She stored all her collected money in the space, exchanged some for a loaf of bread, ate happily, and finally fell asleep.
Meanwhile, the hospital was far from peaceful. Jiang Yan frowned deeply, hearing that no strangers had entered the ward last night. Feng Xiangdong, unconcerned, felt his forehead. “Boss, have you been under too much stress lately? Are you imagining things?”
Since his near-death experience, odd things had happened: swollen lips, a bleeding tongue, and occasional silent stares. He had even claimed that someone had attacked him in the ward. How could anyone bypass his guards and sneak in? Touching the back of his neck, he still felt pain—was it really just a hallucination? Though he hadn’t seen the intruder clearly, he hadn’t forgotten those dark, clear eyes. They vaguely resembled the ones he saw when he was unconscious at the station. This matter required caution.
He had a mission. A year ago, an urgent military district meeting instructed the redeployment of troops to support a critical oil pipeline project. Multiple division-level officers, ten infantry divisions, and three engineering corps were mobilized, showing the project’s importance. Their unit’s stationed area was mountainous and complex, a major difficulty for the project. Recently, during surveying, technicians discovered missing maps, leading to the detection of espionage activity. Even in peacetime, these threats never rested. His injury occurred during a counter-espionage operation to protect his comrades. Regardless of his overthinking, the hospital was unsafe until the remaining spies were caught. Fortunately, his external injuries were minor, so he could be discharged.
Taking advantage of the rare leave, he sent Feng Xiangdong back to the barracks and stayed to accompany his senior leader.
Meanwhile, compared to Sang Zhi’s clear-headed ease, the mother and daughter were far from comfortable. Even a pretty person doesn’t look good with a shaved head. And Sang Yun could at best be described as passably delicate. Now wearing a hat and rolling her eyes at Sang Zhi, the latter’s irritation flared. She grabbed a broom to hit her.
She intended to vent her anger, but after a few strikes, a chime sounded in her head:
“Merit points +10”
“+10…”
“+10…”
Wow—good deeds gave points, but hitting bad people did too. Her mother came to intervene, but Sang Zhi shoved her aside. Though she usually avoided fighting older women, her full force was aimed at Sang Yun. Unfortunately, merit points had a cap; after five strikes, no more points were awarded.
Just then, humming a tune and carrying a piece of meat, Sang Weiguo returned from grandma’s house. When he first came to the city at age three, he was as thin as a stick. Seven years of good life had turned him into a chubby boy. Lately, he had been spitting into Sang Zhi’s food and urinating in her washbasin.
Entering the courtyard, he saw his sister being beaten—by the same “dog” he despised, Sang Zhi. Waving his fists, he charged forward shouting. A ten-year-old boy wasn’t much of a threat, and Sang Zhi laughed as he approached. Liu Meili realized something was wrong and shouted for her youngest son to run—but it was too late…