The abandoned thatched hut at the village entrance was even more dilapidated than Chen Zhiwei had imagined.
The door hung crookedly, ready to fall at any moment.
The windows were nothing but empty holes, and the sparse thatch on the roof was so thin that you could see the stars through it. Inside, a thick layer of dust covered everything, cobwebs clung to every corner, and the air was heavy with the smell of mold.
Aside from a broken wooden plank bed—propped up with stones where a leg was missing—and a crooked table, there was almost nothing else.
Yet as Chen Zhiwei and Chen Zhiyi stood at the doorway, looking at this place that truly belonged to them—
Their eyes shone brightly.
“Sis… this… is this really our home now?” Chen Zhiyi asked softly. There wasn’t a trace of dislike in his voice—only a cautious joy, as if afraid this dream might shatter.
“Yes. Our home.” Chen Zhiwei nodded firmly, suppressing the weakness in her body. She took her brother’s thin hand. “Come on. Let’s at least clean up a place to sleep.”
The siblings got to work.
Chen Zhiyi found a battered broom with a chipped edge. He wasn’t even as tall as the broom, but he stood on tiptoe, diligently sweeping the dust from the floor. Each stroke stirred up clouds of dirt that made him cough softly, yet he refused to stop.
Chen Zhiwei handled the larger debris. She went to a corner and tried to move a broken wooden plank that was in the way. It didn’t look big, but it was unexpectedly heavy. Gritting her teeth, she pushed with both hands, her thoughts unconsciously focusing:
If only it were lighter…
At that moment—
Something changed.
A faint warmth spread across her palms, like a current flowing up her arms. The heavy plank suddenly became much lighter, and she moved it aside with ease.
No—that wasn’t right.
It wasn’t the plank that had become lighter.
It was her strength.
Chen Zhiwei’s heart trembled.
A transmigration cheat? Enhanced strength? Then what about a space? A spiritual spring?
The thought had barely formed when the world before her rippled like water.
The ruined hut vanished, replaced by a strange space about twenty square meters in size, filled with a faint white mist. At its center was a spring lined with green stone. Clear water bubbled up continuously, giving off a refreshing, sweet fragrance that invigorated her just by breathing it in—her fatigue even eased slightly.
What shocked her even more—
Beside the spring lay several waterproof oil-paper packages, neatly arranged. They were something she recognized instantly from her previous life.
With a thought, one package appeared in her hand.
On it was her own handwriting:
“Drought-Resistant Wheat No. 7.”
These were high-yield crop samples she had kept in her laboratory!
A surge of overwhelming joy swept through her.
In her previous life, she hadn’t just been a PhD in agriculture—she had also practiced martial arts since childhood and had once been a sanda champion!
Could it be that when she transmigrated, not only had her strength increased, but her laboratory space and research had come with her as well?
“Sis? Are you too tired?” Chen Zhiyi’s worried voice pulled her back. He tugged gently at her sleeve. “Sit down and rest. I’ll sweep. I’m not strong, but if I go slowly, I can finish it…”
Chen Zhiwei snapped back to reality. Seeing the concern on her brother’s face, warmth filled her heart.
“I’m not tired,” she said with a reassuring smile. “This plank isn’t heavy. I can move it.”
She carried it outside with ease, her heart swelling with confidence.
With this space and spiritual spring—and her knowledge from her previous life—she would make sure they lived better than anyone in this world!
Keeping her composure, she continued cleaning, moving faster and more efficiently. She stuffed branches and straw into the larger holes in the roof to block the wind.
Watching his sister busily working, Chen Zhiyi felt as though she had endless strength. His heart settled, and he worked even harder, a faint smile appearing on his thin face.
By the time they had cleaned enough to barely live in, night had fallen.
Chen Zhiwei had her brother tend the small fire they had struggled to start. She took a chipped clay pot and went behind the house, saying she would fetch water from the stream. Once out of sight, she immediately drew some sweet spring water from her space.
Using the spiritual spring water, she cooked the coarse grain flour they had received during the division. Soon, a fragrance richer and more enticing than ordinary food filled the air.
The siblings sat on the threshold, sharing the warm porridge from the pot.
“Sis, today’s porridge smells so good… and it’s sweet!” Chen Zhiyi ate in small, careful bites, savoring every mouthful. A faint flush even appeared on his pale cheeks. He licked his lips and pushed the pot toward her. “Sis, you eat more. You worked hard.”
“I’m full. You’re still growing—eat more,” Chen Zhiwei said softly, pushing it back. Watching him treat such rough food like a delicacy, she silently swore to give him a better life.
As that thought passed through her mind, she felt a sudden lightness in her heart. Perhaps the original owner’s deepest worry had been this little brother—and now, seeing him better off, she had finally let go.
Don’t worry, Chen Zhiwei said silently in her heart. If you’ve gone to my world, I hope you’ll live happily.
That night, the two of them squeezed onto the hard but sturdy wooden plank bed, covered by a stiff, thin blanket. Cold wind slipped through the gaps, but perhaps because of the spiritual porridge, Chen Zhiyi felt warm inside. Pressing close to his sister, he soon fell into a deep sleep, even letting out soft, steady snores.
Chen Zhiwei, however, did not dare sleep deeply. This place was too remote—she had to stay alert.
As she planned how to use her space and seeds to begin a new life, she kept her ears open.
Sure enough, in the dead of night, when all was silent—
Footsteps rustled outside.
A man’s low, drunken muttering followed, tinged with lechery:
“Those two brats really moved here… unlucky to have a grandmother like that old woman…”
Chen Zhiwei’s eyes sharpened instantly.
She gently shook her brother awake, covering his mouth to signal silence. Chen Zhiyi woke immediately, fear filling his wide eyes—but he bit his lip and made no sound, clutching his sister’s arm tightly.
Chen Zhiwei slipped silently off the bed, barefoot on the cold floor, hiding in the shadows behind the door. Her body relaxed yet coiled, every muscle ready—entering a fighting stance.
The vagrant lingered outside for a moment, then impatiently began pushing the door. The old wooden panel creaked under the pressure.
At the very moment the latch was about to give way—
Chen Zhiwei yanked away the wooden bar and flung the door open!
Caught off guard, the drunk stumbled forward and fell straight inside.
Before he could even cry out—
Chen Zhiwei moved like a ghost.
Her strike was swift as lightning.
A clean, precise chop landed on the side of his neck.
“Ugh—!”
The man didn’t even manage a proper sound before collapsing to the ground.
Expressionless, Chen Zhiwei tied him up tightly with a rope of straw, binding him like a dumpling and stuffing his mouth.
That old woman… she thought coldly.
Some people really never give up their vile intentions.