Chapter 29: The Origin of the Space

Song Qingshan waved his hand with a smile. “Alright, it’s a mess here. You kids don’t need to add to the chaos—go on home and play.”

With that, the siblings were shooed off and headed back.

Song Jinxiu glanced back at the courtyard.

Their courtyard stood isolated and lonely. To the east was a stretch of wasteland that extended all the way to the foot of the mountain.

To the west, there was still another courtyard between theirs and Sister-in-law Youyu’s home.

Behind the courtyard, there was also a patch of empty land. Further back still were a few families of outsiders who had settled there after fleeing from famine.

She couldn’t help but ask, “Brother Fuquan, why did Great-Granduncle choose to live in such a remote spot? It’s so isolated, with no neighbors around.”

Song Fuquan glanced back at the courtyard and said, “Why are you still calling him Great-Granduncle? You should be calling him Great-Grandfather now.”

Song Jinxiu grinned. “Old habit. Slipped right out.”

Song Fuquan chuckled, then explained, “I heard from my Great-Grandfather—no one knows which heartless fortune-teller it was, but they claimed Third Great-Grandfather was born under the Lonely Star of Misfortune, destined to bring calamity to his parents and kin.

Later, after Second Great-Grandfather and my Eldest Great-Uncle had accidents, Third Great-Grandfather insisted on becoming a monk.”

“My Great-Grandfather tried everything he could to keep him from leaving. In the end, they both compromised—Third Great-Grandfather didn’t become a monk, but instead built two small rooms here to live in.”

Song Fuquan let out a sigh. “Maybe staying away from the rest of the village brought him some peace of mind.”

Born under the Lonely Star of Misfortune?

Song Jinxiu gave a noncommittal shake of her head.

As far as she knew, those truly born under the so-called Lonely Star of Misfortune were tough as nails. If they didn’t live to a ripe old age—seventy or eighty at least—how could they even be considered cursed?

But her Great-Grandfather had no wife, no children, and passed away before he even turned forty. What kind of Lonely Star of Misfortune was that supposed to be?

During the days they stayed at Grandpa Lizheng’s home, Song Chunsheng sat in the courtyard every day, basking in the sun.

Big Sister had said that getting more sunlight helped with calcium absorption or something like that—anyway, it was good for the body.

But he couldn’t sit still for long, so he asked Second Grandmother to bring over some soybeans and helped pick through them, selecting seeds for planting.

As for Song Jinfang and little Qiusheng, they happily visited the new house every day to check on the progress, then came back to report to their older siblings with great excitement. They never tired of it.

Song Jinxiu, on the other hand, preferred to sleep in.

In truth, she was busy working inside the space.

After ten or so days shrouded in thick mist, the past few days had finally seen it settle. The space had at last returned to clear skies and fresh air, peaceful and serene.

A stream flowed down from the pristine spring, winding gracefully as it nourished every inch of land within the space.

The small power station had already begun operating. Inside the little building, the workstation hummed quietly, and the fully charged computer was playing soft music.

Fruit trees would have to be planted on the hillside—this, Song Jinxiu had already decided.

As for the open field…

She scattered some of the wheat and rice seeds she had purchased, letting them fall gently onto the soil.

She had only planted a small patch.

If she had known she’d be relying on farming to get by, she would’ve stocked the space with machines like harvesters and seeders.

Now, with only her hands to work with, Song Jinxiu knew she couldn’t manage large-scale labor.

Better to plant a little—let the space have a touch of green first. If she came across any flower seeds later, it would be much nicer to grow flowers instead.

She loved beautifying the space, turning it into a colorful paradise where she could drift leisurely amidst a sea of blossoms.

Speaking of green, Song Jinxiu looked down at the lush patch under her feet, where a single red ginseng fruit swayed among the vibrant greenery.

Who would have thought that among the random weeds she had tossed into the space that day, there’d be a ginseng sprout?

The weeds were still just ordinary weeds, but the ginseng sprout had already borne bright red fruit.

Song Jinxiu carefully pulled out the surrounding weeds and discovered that there were now four or five ginseng plants growing.

“Ah! Could it be that this space is especially suited for cultivating ginseng? If I get my hands on some ginseng seeds and turn this place into a ginseng plantation…” She gazed at the sprouting herbs. “At this growth rate, I could become a wholesale ginseng mogul in under two years!”

The more she thought about it, the more delightful it seemed. In her mind’s eye, she could already see an endless shower of banknotes raining down on her.

“Smack!”

Song Jinxiu took a slap right to the face.

Startled, Song Jinxiu snapped sharply, “Who hit me?”

Smack! Another slap.

This time, she saw it clearly—it was a leaf from the bodhi tree above her that had struck her.

She circled the tree twice. Could it be… the bodhi tree had gained sentience?

“Why did you hit me? Was I wrong to think that?”

“Heeheehee, silly girl. You’re only just now realizing this space is perfect for growing medicinal herbs?”

“Who’s talking?”

Song Jinxiu felt as though the world had taken a turn for the surreal. But then again, the space itself was already a mystical existence. She had traveled through time—was it really so strange if a bodhi tree had become sentient?

“Grandpa Tree Spirit, is that you?”

Smack.

Another leaf smacked Song Jinxiu squarely on the head.

Hitting her again? So… it didn’t like being called a Tree Spirit? Then maybe Tree Immortal? Tree Deity?

“Heeheehee, hahaha! Oh my, I’m dying of laughter! Hahahaha! Tree Immortal? Hahaha! Tree Deity? Hahahaha…”

Song Jinxiu’s expression turned blank, a metaphorical black line running down her face.

She could sense that something resided within the bodhi tree—something without any malice. On the contrary, it gave her a feeling of closeness and warmth.

But the fact that this… whatever it was… could hear her thoughts?

Now that was not so pleasant.

Suddenly, she saw a blur of black dart down from the bodhi tree—uh… a chipmunk?

“I’m not a chipmunk! How could I possibly be a chipmunk?”

The little creature stood with its tiny arms akimbo.

Song Jinxiu looked it up and down. Despite its extremely human-like mannerisms, it was unmistakably… a chipmunk.

“Tsk, so ignorant! Remember this well—I am the Spirit of the Medicinal Field, the beloved of my master’s heart, unseen in Heaven, rare upon Earth—the one and only Supreme Treasure-Seeking Mouse!”

Pfft— Song Jinxiu couldn’t help but laugh. “But you’re still a mouse, aren’t you?”

“Aiya, Master, how could you be like this? Ever since we depended on each other to survive—charging through divine palaces, descending into the underworld, crossing lightning fields, passing through the Nether Realm—you never once made fun of your dear Junjun like this!”

“Xiao Junjun?”
Song Jinxiu raised an eyebrow. “We depended on each other to survive, charged through divine palaces—do you mean the Heavenly Palace? Went to the underworld—like the Hall of Yama? And what was that—crossed the Lightning Field, passed through the Nether Realm? Are you sure I was your master?”

The chipmunk suddenly fell silent. A look of sorrow crossed its human-like little face, and Song Jinxiu felt a sudden pang in her heart.

She wanted to comfort the little thing, but for some reason, tears were already streaming down her cheeks.

“Master, it’s alright if you don’t remember. As long as Xiao Junjun remembers, that’s enough.”

The Treasure-Seeking Mouse leaned against the bodhi tree, coughing twice, its tiny body trembling slightly.

“This little guy doesn’t seem very healthy…” Song Jinxiu couldn’t help but furrow her brows.

She wiped her face and brushed away the inexplicable ache in her chest. Forcing a smile, she asked, “So your name is Xiao Junjun?”

The Treasure-Seeking Mouse nodded. “That’s right. Actually, my real name is Junbao. I was the first to find you, and then I met it.”

The mouse patted the bodhi tree with its tiny paw. “It insisted on being called Bodhi Baobao, so Master started calling me Xiao Junjun, it became Baoya, and there’s also Shui Jingling—Granny Ling—the spirit of the spring on the mountaintop.”

That was… a lot to take in. Song Jinxiu suddenly fell silent as another wave of that mysterious pain surged through her chest.

She leaned against the bodhi tree and sat down. “Junjun… can Baoya and Granny Ling talk too?”

The Treasure-Seeking Mouse hopped onto her palm, squeaking in its sharp little voice: “Zhi zhi zhi zhi—”

“Baoya was originally the Sky Pillar Guardian of the Huangyuan Secret Realm. It was our Master who awakened her spirit—only after taking form could Baoya speak.

Lingling was a princess of the aquatic clans. She was sealed in the Cold Pool as a spiritual furnace to cultivate water essence by Qingjun.

Master saved her, and over the years, she became like an old matron.

Later, Master was framed and made into the Heaven-Sacrificing Saintess.

At the moment when the Heavenly Fire descended, in that perilous instant, Lingling offered her Water Spirit Pill to protect Master. I tore open the barrier and escaped with her.

Afterward, we were caught in a chaotic spatial storm…”

Within the chaotic spatial storm, fierce astral winds raged violently. Baoya could only transform herself into a bodhi tree to open up and stabilize this space.

But alas, Master had already had her dantian destroyed and suffered grave injuries—beyond all hope of recovery. She had no choice but to fall into reincarnation and start over from the beginning.”

“Oh… was I really that unlucky in my past life?”