Shen Zhihuan let out a dry laugh, as she took the bowl of coarse grain and wild vegetable buns from Li Qiuhua and walked into the main room.

Once the three of them sat down, Shen Zhihuan slid the bowl of rice porridge toward Xiao Weidong’s spot. As she reached for his wild vegetable soup, the boy was quick to snatch the bowl away.

“Third Sister, that rice porridge is for you. Mom made it to help you recover,” Weidong said, frowning.

Li Qiuhua, noticing what was happening, quickly set down the half-split wild vegetable bun she was holding and placed the bowl of rice porridge back in front of Shen Zhihuan.

“You’re still weak. You need to nourish yourself properly. And your brother, a growing boy, doesn’t need something so good.”

“Third Sister, I don’t like rice porridge anyway. I prefer drinking the vegetable soup Mom makes,” Weidong said cheerfully as he dug into his now-cooled vegetable soup.

Watching his eagerness, Shen Zhihuan felt a pang in her heart.

Without giving them a chance to protest, she poured the rice porridge into their bowls and scooped a few vegetables from theirs into her own.

“Third Sister, I really don’t like rice porridge,” Weidong said, swallowing hard as he looked at the porridge now in his bowl.

“Eat up and stop complaining,” Shen Zhihuan replied with a smile, ruffling his hair.

Little rascal! Did he think she couldn’t see through his act? “Not liking” rice porridge—what a lie!

Li Qiuhua’s eyes filled with tears as she watched her two children share a single bowl of rice porridge. A flood of thoughts overwhelmed her.

If only she were more capable, her son and daughter wouldn’t have to spend so long trying to decide who deserved a bowl of rice porridge. Deep down, she blamed herself. She felt utterly useless for being unable to give her children a proper meal.

“Mom, things will only get better for us,” Shen Zhihuan said gently, patting her mother’s trembling shoulder in a comforting gesture.

Those words, filled with determination, caused Li Qiuhua to break down into tears.

Xiao Weidong, seeing their mother upset, teared up as well. He pushed his bowl toward Shen Zhihuan and hopped off the stool, rushing to Li Qiuhua’s side.

“Mom, please don’t cry. I’m not hungry. I’ll give all my food to Third Sister from now on. Just don’t cry anymore,” he said between sobs, hugging her arm tightly.

“Silly child, Mom’s not crying because she’s sad. These are happy tears,” Li Qiuhua said with a smile as she wiped her face and then cleaned Weidong’s tear-streaked cheeks.

The coarse wild vegetable bun was hard and scratchy, while the vegetable soup was bitter.

Having grown accustomed to refined foods, Shen Zhihuan struggled to swallow the meal. Yet, to keep Li Qiuhua from worrying, she forced herself to finish her bowl of rice porridge mixed with wild vegetables and half a coarse bun.

Fearing she might overeat, Shen Zhihuan walked laps around the small courtyard to aid her digestion. When the full moon rose above the treetops, she finally returned indoors.

Lying on the hard wooden bed, she stared at the faint moonlight streaming through the cracks in the window. Her thoughts wandered.

Strange, fragmented memories flickered in her mind like a slideshow. Every time she tried to grasp them, they vanished like shooting stars.

Sighing, Shen Zhihuan turned over and forced herself to stop thinking about it.

Her grandparents, the only ones who had ever truly cared for her, were gone. There was nothing left for her in that world.

The only regret she had was leaving behind the fruit farm and resort her grandparents had built with their life savings.

As the thought crossed her mind, an alarming realization hit her.

If she was truly gone, wouldn’t all her funds, stocks, and the 51% ownership stake in her scumbag father’s company now belong to him?

The money didn’t matter. But that fruit farm and resort—the culmination of her grandparents’ life’s work—couldn’t fall into the hands of such a despicable man.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

Suddenly, a white light flashed. Having been in darkness for so long, Shen Zhihuan squinted, her eyes unable to adjust to the brightness.

Once her vision cleared, her eyes widened in shock.

Before her stood rows of fruit trees, laden with ripe mangoes, peaches, lychees, cherries, and strawberries growing in nearby fields. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of fresh fruit.

Cautiously, she reached out to touch a plump, fragrant cherry hanging nearby, as though afraid that any sudden movement might shatter the dreamlike scene.

The cool texture under her fingers told her it wasn’t a dream.

Overcome with joy, she plucked the cherry and popped it into her mouth. The sweet, tangy juice further confirmed it—this was real!

Had she traveled back to the 21st century?

Glancing around the empty resort, Shen Zhihuan noticed how eerily quiet it was. Normally, during the summer harvest, the place would be bustling with workers.

Frowning, she looked down at her still-flat chest.

Could it be… the resort had traveled back with her?

Her heart racing, she concentrated her thoughts. A moment later, everything went dark again.

When she opened her eyes, she was back in her hard, uncomfortable bed.

Holding the small, cool cherry in her hand, Shen Zhihuan couldn’t suppress her excitement.

She had her own dimensional space now!

If it weren’t for the risk of startling her mother and brother, she would’ve rushed outside to laugh triumphantly at the sky.

With the fruit farm, she was no longer worried about their future.

As for the 80 yuan debt to the Su family? That was nothing!

Popping the cherry into her mouth, she savored the taste as a contented smile spread across her face.

Her priority now was to rebuild her health. With a strong body, she could lead her mother and brother into the happy life they deserved.

Meanwhile, Su Changjiang had just returned home from several days of meetings at the city. Learning that Su Changhe and Wang Chunmei had called off Su Zijie and Shen Zhihuan’s engagement, he flew into a rage.

The engagement between Su Zijie and Shen Zhihuan had been arranged by the old man (their father) and Uncle Li. And now, not long after the old man’s passing…

Seeing Su Changhe sulking in the corridor, Su Changjiang wanted nothing more than to kick him.

“Does Zijie know about this canceled engagement?” he asked, barely containing his anger.

“Marriage arrangements have always been dictated by parents and matchmakers,” Su Changhe muttered, shrinking back.

Su Changjiang let out a cold snort. “Parent’s orders? Did you even honor those? This engagement was set by the old man himself. By canceling it, how do you think you’re honoring him?”