Chen Hongyan, lying sickly on the bed, felt a surge of helplessness. She didn’t know how long she could continue holding on. Villagers called her daughter a “fox spirit” and a “harbinger of disaster,” blaming her for every misfortune. How could she stop the gossip from staining her daughter’s reputation?

If she lost this last thread of life, her children—already fatherless—would soon be motherless too.

Noticing her mother sinking into melancholy, An Xin quickly shifted the topic.

“Mom, the village barefoot doctor said you need to rest as much as possible. I’ll go find Xiao Huzi from next door and have him call my siblings back. I’ll also start preparing lunch—someone’s coming over later.”

“A guest?”

Chen Hongyan’s pale, sunken face lit up with surprise. It had been ages since anyone visited them, especially after An Xin’s father passed. The family’s poverty, coupled with their bad reputation, made them pariahs.

Even An Xin’s eldest uncle avoided them, fearing they’d come asking for food or money. But Chen Hongyan, stubborn as ever, had never begged the villagers for help or borrowed a grain of rice despite their dire circumstances.

An Xin responded nonchalantly, “Yeah, a friend is coming.”

Without further explanation, she grabbed the coarse buckwheat pillow from the bed, fluffed it up, and helped her mother lie back down.

“Is it Dongmei?” Chen Hongyan asked. Besides Dongmei, nobody in the village dared associate with An Xin, let alone visit.

Not wanting to reveal that it was Bai Yichen, An Xin gave a vague reply.

“You’ll see when they arrive.”

Bai Yichen—who had a government job—was worlds apart from them. Who could’ve predicted what had happened between them? He might be arriving soon, and there was much to do.

“I’d better go boil water,” An Xin muttered. “It would be embarrassing if he shows up and there’s not even a cup of hot water to serve.”

Hastily, she left the room, stopping by the neighbor’s to find Xiao Huzi. She asked him to fetch her siblings from the fields.

Bai Yichen’s visit was about her future. She wanted her family present for this monumental moment.

Once the arrangements were made, An Xin stood at the stone-paved entrance of her home, peering down the quiet, narrow path.

“Who knows when he’ll show up?” she mumbled, glancing at the sun now high in the sky. It was almost lunchtime. With a sigh, she stepped into the kitchen.

The sight that greeted her made her heart sink.

“This… this is a kitchen?” she gasped. “It’s emptier than my wallet!”

The countertops, cutting boards, and even the rice pot were spotless—not a scrap of food to be found. The rice and flour bins leaned against the corner walls, just as empty.

An Xin walked over, opened the rice bin, and sighed heavily when she confirmed its emptiness. The flour bin contained only a scant half-scoop of cornmeal.

Holding the measly portion in her hands, she lamented, “God, this is so tragic. I can’t even secure basic sustenance after transmigrating?”

The cornmeal wouldn’t be enough to feed everyone. She stared at the bin, trying to think of a solution, when a familiar mechanical voice echoed in her mind.

“Dear host, don’t forget—I’m here!”

A lightbulb went off in her head. Slapping her thigh, she exclaimed, “That’s right! I have the warehouse! Let’s see what’s inside.”

With a single thought, she entered her portable warehouse.

The space was vast, with shelves neatly stacked with goods of all kinds. Rice, flour, meat, oil, vegetables, fruits, and even daily essentials lined the racks.

To her surprise, there were also clothes, fabrics, and shoes. In the farthest corner, she noticed farming tools like scythes and hoes, as well as a small plowing machine.

An Xin marveled at the abundance. From imported cosmetics to foreign snacks, the warehouse had everything.

“Wow,” she muttered, “it has everything I need and more.”

But practicality tempered her excitement. She couldn’t risk taking out too much at once and drawing attention. For now, she focused on the essentials: food for her family.

Carefully, she retrieved some flour, rice, cornmeal, and a bit of meat and vegetables. She avoided the exotic fruits—they were too conspicuous in this poverty-stricken era.

“First, I’ll solve our immediate food crisis. Later, I’ll figure out a reasonable excuse to explain these supplies.”

Back in the kitchen, she mixed the cornmeal and wheat flour to make coarse-grain steamed buns, adding a pinch of sugar for flavor. She also prepared a pot of rice porridge, throwing in some corn kernels to mask its quality.

To make the meal more presentable for her guest, she stir-fried minced meat with celery, made a fennel omelet, fried peanuts, stir-fried greens, and cooked a simple cabbage soup.

Though humble by modern standards, the spread was extravagant for their time. It was the best the An family could offer.

When the table was set, the tantalizing aroma filled the small house. An Xin carefully arranged the bowls and utensils, just as a knock came from the courtyard gate.

“Come in!”

Setting the bowls aside, An Xin hurried to the door to greet her guest.