Chapter 33 – Little Thief

No one knew what had suddenly happened—like a tidal wave, the crowd surged forward all at once and scattered the Xia family in an instant.

Just a moment ago, Lihua had been tightly holding Xia Daohua’s hand. But in the blink of an eye, a group of tall strangers surged between them.

Xia Daohua felt as if she were suddenly back at a train station during China’s Spring Festival travel rush in her previous life—or inside a packed subway car during morning rush hour, with the doors unable to close.

Yet even that sense of chaos had become unfamiliar.

Ever since her grandfather passed away, she hadn’t boarded a train during the Spring Festival again.

And since quitting her job and starting her own business—the small supermarket she poured her heart into—she had never taken the subway again either.

But now, that old feeling of being squeezed and pushed returned in full force through the frenzied crowd, overwhelming her senses and leaving her briefly stunned.

A second later, she snapped back to reality—only to realize she was completely separated from the Xia family.

Everyone around her was taller, stronger, and more powerful than her. She couldn’t see the Xia family, didn’t know where she was, and had no way to move against the crowd.

The crowd was far too dense, chaotic, and overwhelming.

She was swept up in the tide of people, her feet already lifted off the ground, yet her body still moving with the current. Like a single drop of water in the ocean, she was completely at the mercy of the crowd.

Xia Daohua focused all her strength on staying upright.

In such a massive, panicked crowd, falling could be fatal. She was terrified that if she lost her footing, she might become a casualty in a stampede.

A transmigrator—especially one with a spatial supermarket as her golden cheat—dying by being trampled to death in a crowd? What a humiliating way to go! How disgraceful for the transmigration community!

Her thoughts jumped wildly as usual, spiraling in strange directions even in moments of danger.

Just as she was worrying about what to have written on her gravestone, someone gave her a violent shove.

Xia Daohua felt like her internal organs had shifted. Her chest burned with pain, her heartbeat suddenly chaotic. Her back throbbed as if it had been smashed with a heavy hammer.

She was sure she’d been injured. Just as she considered slipping into her supermarket space to recover, she was hit again.

This time, her body suddenly felt light, and she was flung into the air, as if soaring through the clouds.

Her time in mid-air was incredibly brief—barely even half a second—but she managed to catch a clear glimpse of her surroundings.

To her left was the heaving crowd of the main street; to her right stood a restaurant with fabric banners flapping in the wind.

On a tall lantern pole hung a massive gourd-shaped lantern, with each panel painted with scenes of wine and drinkers.

The panel facing her showed a scholar lying drunkenly with a wine jar and the bold words: “Liu Ling Drunk.”

“That calligraphy is really beautiful…”

That was Xia Daohua’s last thought before she lost consciousness.

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When she opened her eyes again, she found herself lying face-down in a dark alley.

She must’ve landed face-first.

Touching her face, she felt a bit of pain, but there was no broken skin. It seemed she hadn’t been injured too badly while unconscious.

Even the dull ache in her back had faded a lot.

She lifted her head and looked around. Faint lantern light filtered in from the far end of the alley. The section where she lay was pitch black, likely behind or beside that restaurant. Probably the delivery alley where they brought in firewood, rice, meat, and vegetables.

Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she noticed someone else lying nearby.

Face-down and unmoving, the person appeared to be injured—or maybe just unconscious.

Another unlucky soul, just like her.

Xia Daohua stretched out her limbs, slowly sitting up. Her body still ached, and the jolt had disturbed the wound on the back of her head. Some of the original host’s memories began to resurface.

She took one look at the person on the ground and instantly recognized the clothing—it was the attire of a foreign tribe.

Cautiously, she stepped closer and gently touched his neck with two fingers.

It was warm. His carotid artery was still beating.

“He’s alive… and a barbarian!”

Her heart began to pound wildly, the thumping echoing through the silent alley—so loud, it almost hurt her ears.

But the man didn’t wake up.

No one else wandered into the alley, and things quieted down again.

Xia Daohua gradually calmed down and muttered to herself:

“Xia Daohua, you’ve lived two lives—why is your courage still no bigger than a rabbit’s?”

After the self-mockery, she cautiously approached the man again.

After careful inspection, confirming that he truly was unconscious and not pretending, her courage returned.

She patted him from head to toe, then, using all her strength, rolled him over so his face was facing up.

To be honest, maybe it was the dim lighting—but she found his face… rather handsome.

But this face didn’t quite match the barbarian types in the original host’s memory.

His features and complexion were much more like those of a native Dachu person.

Still, he was wearing barbarian clothing—no mistake there. Even if he looked like a Central Plains native, that outfit was unmistakably foreign. In these times, no Dachu person would be caught wearing that.

Besides, the wine pouch at his chest, the golden knife on his back, and the dagger tucked in his boot—all pointed to the same thing: a genuine barbarian!

Xia Daohua mentally prepared herself, then boldly began to loot him.

She carefully removed each of his weapons and stored them in her space.

The man didn’t move a muscle, emboldening her further.

She took his coin pouch, wine pouch, jade pendant, and even a mysterious oil-paper packet from his chest—everything went into her supermarket space.

Finally, her eyes landed on his outer robe.

It was a fine cloak—gold-threaded Shu brocade on the outside, and a soft, warm inner lining made of some kind of thin animal pelt.

Xia Daohua wasn’t an expert in fur—she couldn’t tell whether it was fox or sable.

She huffed and puffed, trying hard to undress him—but while removing small items was easy, taking off his clothes, even just his boots, was extremely difficult.

In the end, the grand plan to strip him naked failed. She settled for just taking his cloak, kindly leaving him the rest of his clothing.

(End of Chapter)