Chapter 13

Night deepened, and the entire Huagou Village had drifted into slumber. A dog barked in the distance now and then.

“Grrrrrr.”

Jiang Henián clutched her growling stomach, groaning as she rolled over on the hard kang bed.

Throwing a tantrum earlier meant she’d been denied dinner. Not that she had much appetite for those bland, sour porridge meals anyway, but now she didn’t even have the chance to secretly sneak food from her dimensional space.

She glanced over at Jiang Yanqiu sleeping on the other side of the room, then quietly pulled out a large piece of chocolate from her space and shoved it into her mouth, chewing silently.

Ah… this wasn’t helping. She was still starving.

The sweeter the snack, the more hollow her belly felt.

She tossed and turned on the stiff bed, unable to get comfortable. For some reason, the bedding felt harder than usual—every position was uncomfortable.

“You got bugs crawling all over you or what?! Stop squirming, you’re driving me nuts!”

Jiang Yanqiu grumbled without opening her eyes, slapping the bed in irritation. Jiang Henián nearly choked on her chocolate from the fright.

She froze, lying perfectly still for a while, listening for any more movement before cautiously chewing again.

After holding out for a bit longer, she finally slipped out from under the thin blanket and crept out of the room.

No more! If she didn’t find somewhere to eat a hot boxed meal soon, she was going to make history as the first transmigrator to starve to death on day one.

The house was pitch dark, not a sliver of light.

Jiang Henián tiptoed her way along the wall into the main room, heading toward the moonlit curtain by the door.

Just as she lifted the curtain—
A pale, wrinkled face suddenly popped up right in front of her!

“M-M-Mommm—!!”

She screamed, practically losing her soul from terror.

A hand clamped over her mouth roughly, yanked her outside, and threw her to the ground.

“You little brat! What the hell are you screaming for?!”

It was Wang Chunfang, hands on hips, glowering like a specter in the night.

So this was the wicked stepmother’s true face again.

Taking advantage of the original Jiang Henián’s timid and obedient nature, this evil woman had always chosen late nights to torment her stepdaughter when no one was around.

Wang Chunfang lowered her voice and snapped at her rebellious stepdaughter:

“Quit staring! Get to work unless you want me to deal with you myself! You’re not sleeping until you chop all this firewood and wash the laundry!”

Hungry, scared, and with a sore backside from being thrown down, Jiang Henián’s anger erupted like a volcano.

Except for the few times she’d been chased by debt collectors, she’d never been treated like this before!

Without thinking, she reached for the nearest hunk of firewood, swung it blindly while sitting on the ground, and screamed:

“GHOST!! WICKED GHOST LADY WANTS MY SOUL! HELP—!”

The stick landed squarely on Wang Chunfang’s shin, hitting with a loud smack smack smack, causing the woman to howl in pain.

The commotion immediately woke the entire household. From the east wing came the wailing of a startled toddler.

“What the hell is going on out here in the middle of the night?!”

Jiang Chengmin came running with an oil lamp in hand, casting a dim glow over the courtyard.

Jiang Yanqiu, Jiang Jirong, and two sleepy little kids also emerged, rubbing their eyes.

Jiang Henián took the opportunity to smack Wang Chunfang’s leg two more times before tossing the stick aside and bursting into exaggerated sobs:

“Dad! I saw a ghost! A witchy ghost dragged me outside—she wants to take my soul!”

Her eyes were still shut tightly, as if she’d been completely traumatized.

The two kids, Jiang Xiaomiao and Jiang Xiaobao, were so startled by the scene that they immediately started bawling too.

“Waaaaah! There’s really a ghost!”
“Mom! The ghost is gonna eat us!”

For a while, the whole He family courtyard was filled with sobbing and wailing—it sounded like a full-on funeral.

Wang Chunfang stood frozen, her shin throbbing with pain. But she couldn’t say a word.

“Everyone shut up! The whole village can hear you!” Jiang Chengmin barked, face thunderous.

“Ghosts? What ghosts? Everyone get back to bed!”

He shot a glare at Wang Chunfang before turning on his heel and storming back inside. The others followed one by one, looking annoyed and sleepy.

Wang Chunfang scooped up her still-wailing twin toddlers, glaring daggers at Jiang Henián as she left.

Jiang Henián sat dazed on the ground, only moving once the night returned to stillness. She was completely drained and still ravenously hungry.

Honestly, she hadn’t been acting entirely—she suffered from mild night blindness, so her vision in the dark was terrible. When that pale face suddenly lunged at her, it genuinely scared the hell out of her.

It was as terrifying as any horror movie she’d ever seen.

Shivering slightly, she pushed herself up and quietly slipped out through the courtyard gate.

The night was thick and silent. Only a handful of homes in Huagou Village had electricity, and streetlights were nonexistent.

The houses were cloaked in darkness, with only the dirt road in the distance faintly lit by the moon.

Jiang Henián stood at the gate, surrounded by the sounds of crickets and night insects, uncertain of where to go.

Alone in a strange era, surrounded by monsters and devils.

She suddenly laughed at herself—bitter and low.

It wasn’t much different from the modern world, was it?
She wasn’t the pampered socialite Jiang Henián anymore.
Wherever she went, she was still completely alone.

Early autumn in the countryside brought a chill at night.

She rubbed her arms and pulled out a flashlight from her space, then silently turned to follow the moonlit path.

…

She walked for what felt like ages. The sleek silver flashlight in her hand flickered and dimmed, low on power.

It had been bought at the supermarket—she hadn’t had a chance to charge it.

Getting anxious, she picked up her pace. Just as the flashlight died completely, she arrived at the foot of the mountain, in front of an old thatched hut.

A faint candle glow flickered through the crack in the door.

Jiang Henián stayed hidden beside the entrance, watching for a while. Once she was sure no one was around, she slipped inside and quietly closed the door behind her.

She didn’t even glance at the kang bed. Instead, she walked straight to the farthest corner and sat down with her back to the room.

Like a gust of autumn wind sweeping dead leaves, she devoured a box of braised pork and eggplant rice. Then she pulled out a fragrant pear from her space, wiped it on her sleeve, and took a huge, juicy bite.

The sweet juice slid down her throat, refreshing and almost magical—it made her feel alive again.

In the candlelit corner of the rundown hut, the air was thick with the rusty, metallic scent of blood.

But in another corner, dimly lit and bustling with the sounds of chewing, it was a whole different world—like a hamster feasting in a pantry.

Satisfied and full, Jiang Henián leaned against the wall, rubbed her belly, and let out a contented burp.

She rested for a while, then got up and sneaked out behind the hut to the edge of the mountain. There, she dug a small hole under some dry leaves and buried all the packaging and food scraps—cleaning up every trace.

On the way back, she passed the rickety wooden door again, hesitated for a long moment, then finally stepped inside once more…

The candle had burned halfway down. White wax dripped onto the dusty floor.

A small figure crouched beside the kang bed, head down, both hands busy, muttering to herself.

A pile of blood-soaked medical cotton lay on the ground beside her.

Jiang Henián frowned tightly, staring at the old, brick-thick medical book in front of her.

It was one of her mother’s relics—something she’d tucked into her space long ago in case she ever had to run.

Her mother had come from a family of doctors, always passionate about herbal medicine and old texts. Though she gave up her medical dreams early to marry Jiang Wenbin and raise a family, she still clung to her love for medicine.

To avoid annoying her husband with the constant smell of herbs, she’d packed away her tools, only occasionally pulling out her old books to read with her daughter.

By logic, Jiang Henián should’ve picked up the trade naturally—displaying brilliant medical intuition, grasping concepts in a flash.

But sadly, young Jiang Henián had always been rebellious.

She was much more interested in tearing up medical books to fold paper cranes…