Yang Lihua held the two yuan she had earned, her fingers absentmindedly touching the warm space jade bracelet in her pocket. She had to admit—Zhu Yuanyuan was generous, practically insisting on paying her.
Only halfway home, Yang Lihua kept rubbing the bracelet in her hand. Passing by a public restroom, she paused.
She couldn’t just leave the bracelet lying around—there was another female lead at home. Who knew if she might somehow sense the bracelet?
Without hesitation, she slipped into the restroom. At this hour, it was empty, filled with the pungent smell of waste.
She moved to the innermost corner, taking the jade bracelet from her pocket. Following countless novel tropes and the vague hints from The Charming Chef of the ’70s, she bit her fingertip and carefully dripped three drops of her blood onto the bracelet.
The blood rolled along the smooth surface, but nothing happened—the bracelet didn’t absorb it like in the novels.
Not enough blood?
Determined, she dripped a few more drops. Still, the bracelet lay quietly in her palm, indistinguishable from an ordinary piece of jade.
It almost seemed to silently mock her—a mere cannon fodder thinking she could snatch the heroine’s magical treasure.
Yang Lihua’s heart sank. Were these treasures—or the heroine’s “magic tool”—only meant for Zhu Yuanyuan? Or perhaps only for the heroine from the book?
Refusing to give up, she concentrated and tried to communicate with it, murmuring the usual magical incantations from novels: “Enter?”, “Activate?”, “Open sesame?”
Still, no reaction.
Frustration and anger rose. She had managed to intercept the heroine’s chance, only to hold a normal piece of jewelry.
Humph—giving up? Impossible!
The heroine had instinctively sensed the treasure in the wooden box. Yang Lihua, already holding it, couldn’t use it… Her gaze sharpened.
If she couldn’t use it, then no one else would.
Clenching the bracelet, she found a stone in the corner. Lowering her voice, each word cold and threatening, she declared:
“I don’t care if you’re a divine treasure or a sentient object. From now on, I am your master!”
Still, the bracelet didn’t move.
Yang Lihua snorted, slamming the stone against it. A tiny crack appeared.
“Hmph! Thought you were indestructible, huh?”
She moved over a squat toilet, the stench overwhelming, and held the bracelet over the pit.
“Listen carefully. If you keep playing dead, I’ll smash you to pieces with this stone, then throw you into this cesspit. Even if you were a relic of the Great Dao Immortals, the filth will corrupt your spirit. You’ll rot here for a lifetime!”
Hmph—thinking she could escape and end up with the heroine. Dream on.
With stubborn determination, she swung the stone again toward the bracelet.
Clang!
No reaction.
Clang, clang!
A visible crack appeared. One more hit and the bracelet would shatter completely.
If she couldn’t have it, no one else would.
Yang Lihua’s gaze hardened. Raising the stone high, she prepared to strike.
Suddenly, the bracelet hummed in her left hand. A soft, milky-white light glimmered, warmth spreading through her palm.
Then her left hand felt empty. The bracelet dissipated like smoke, leaving a red dot in her palm.
It worked!
She clenched her fists. Honestly, if she had smashed the bracelet into the toilet, she would have been a little heartbroken. Thankfully, it had “cooperated.”
Concentrating again, she moved her thoughts.
Whoosh.
The scene shifted. Inside, a patch of dark soil appeared, with a spring nearby. Unlike the novel, the spring no longer flowed endlessly with spiritual water. Next to it stood a simple thatched hut.
Yang Lihua felt a connection forming between her and this space.
She realized why the space looked different from the book. The three cracks she had made had disrupted the spiritual energy. The spring was nearly depleted.
Where there should have been a constant flow, now there were only two drops per day. The black soil that once matured quickly in the novel now grew like ordinary soil, albeit slightly more fertile.
Even so, she was satisfied—she had gone in expecting to smash it.
Exiting the space, Yang Lihua gazed at the vivid red dot in her hand, exhaling in relief.
Some treasures really only respond to force and determination.
The process hadn’t been pleasant, but the result was satisfying.
She strode out of the restroom, glancing back at the filthy space, a cold snort on her lips.
See? Even treasures must bow to absolute will and ruthlessness.
Her next stop: another battlefield, to check on the heroine from a different book.
Before entering home, laughter and chatter came from inside, livelier than usual. Yang Lihua took a deep breath, smoothing her cheeks into a gentle smile before pushing the door open.
“Dad, Mom, Aunt Wang.” Her voice was sweet, eyes scanning the room quickly.
“Lihua’s back!” Su Meilan said, struggling to hide her amusement. “Quick, come greet the guest. Call Sister Hongxia.”
Yang Lihua smiled politely and greeted, “Sister Hongxia.”
Sitting on the stool, Zhou Hongxia looked up, her eyes flickering briefly upon seeing the second daughter of the Yang family for the first time in person.
If not for her spatial binding, Yang Lihua might have missed that fleeting glance, full of…
resentment and comparison?
Why?
She had only met this future sister-in-law, the original book heroine, for the first time—why such expressions already?