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As dusk fell, a streak of fiery red still lingered in the western sky. Song Anning, her eyes rimmed with red, adjusted the cloth bag in her hand and led the little one home.
“Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight”—tomorrow would surely be a fine day.
The three siblings busied themselves as soon as they returned. Song Anning kneaded dough, Song Zeyuan lit the fire, and little Anyue squatted by the door, washing the wild herbs clean.
The moment the beaten eggs hit the pan, the rich aroma wafted straight into their noses. The original owner of this body had treated the two children poorly—when she killed a chicken for meat, the little ones didn’t even get a sip of the broth.
But now… was Elder Sister making this for them? Would they finally get to taste a few mouthfuls of soup?
Song Zeyuan swallowed hard, quickly shifting his focus. “Elder Sister, I’ll go bring Mother back…”
The original owner’s mother was named Wang Yinger—the “er” in her name meaning “son.”
Just from the name, it was clear that Song Anning’s maternal family was far from ideal. Wang Yinger had been raised with the belief that men were the heavens, and women existed solely to serve their husbands and children, while also propping up their younger brothers in their birth families.
Before the Song family’s misfortune, Song Anning’s maternal grandmother would frequently visit to complain about poverty, often leaving with a few things in hand. The presence of the maternal family only worsened the already strained household.
After her husband, Song Feng, and eldest son, Song Zeyu, vanished in the mountains, Wang Yinger drowned in tears, spending her days searching the hills. Though many villagers helped, her birth family in the neighboring village caught wind of the incident and declared:
“A married daughter is like spilled water—what happens to the Song family has nothing to do with us, the Wangs.”
When the family severance document arrived, Wang Yinger’s world collapsed.
Unable to bear the blow, she lost her mind. Now, she mimicked Song Anning’s father, cutting willow branches in the mountains and hiding in the backyard vegetable patch to weave baskets.
She was trying to fill the void in her heart in her own way. The village doctor called it an affliction of the mind—she might recover tomorrow, or she might never heal.
Fortunately, she still recognized the children. When Song Zeyuan went to the backyard to fetch her, she followed without a word, simply smiling vacantly.
While the two little ones were away, Song Anning ladled the soup into four coarse porcelain bowls and sliced the flatbread that had been pressed against the iron pan.
Compared to the processed foods of her past life, this oil-sparse, salt-light meal was hardly delicious. But for villagers, pure cornmeal without a trace of coarse grains, paired with egg soup, was a luxury reserved for wealthier households—something they wouldn’t dare eat outside of festivals.
The stove still held embers, so Song Anning scrubbed the pot clean and filled it with water. After digging for wild herbs in the afternoon, she was drenched in sweat, and a simple rub of her skin rolled off long streaks of grime. The whole family was filthy—they’d wash up after dinner before sleeping.
“Elder Sister, can we eat now?”
Song Zeyuan stared at the four bowls of soup on the table, his stomach growling repeatedly. He and his sister hadn’t had a warm meal in days. To stave off the hunger pangs, they’d resorted to drinking water, which at least dulled the ache in their stomachs.
“Wash your hands first, then wipe your faces clean.”
“Okay!”
The two younger ones obeyed, squatting by the wooden basin and scrubbing their small hands vigorously. Wang Yinger, however, was far less cooperative. When Song Anning placed her hands in the water, she cupped it and splashed everywhere. Attempting to wipe her face sent her darting around the room, nearly toppling the table.
After three changes of water, Wang Yinger’s hands were barely clean. She rolled around in the vegetable patch, and when she wasn’t weaving baskets, she lay sunbathing in the dirt. Getting her properly washed would be nothing short of a monumental task.
“Alright, let’s eat.”
Before it got dark, Song Anning took her mother’s hand and sat at the table. Wang Yinger was no trouble when it came to meals—she ate whatever was given to her.
Song Anyue carefully held her bowl and took a small sip. The fresh sweetness of the wild herbs and the rich aroma of eggs filled her mouth, making her reluctant to swallow.
“Elder Sister, this soup is so delicious. It’s sweet and tasty.”
“Elder Sister makes the best soup.”
Song Zeyuan, the little charmer, didn’t forget to flatter as he alternated between bites of flatbread and sips of soup. This taste… right now, he was the happiest kid in Banyue Village!
“There’s more in the pot. Help yourselves when you finish. Do you believe me when I say Elder Sister will make delicious food for you every day from now on?”
“Will we have eggs every day?”
That seemed unlikely, but Song Zeyuan and Song Anyue still nodded eagerly like little chicks pecking at rice. The main room had darkened, but they could see the look in their elder sister’s eyes—a determination and confidence they’d never seen before.
“We believe you! We all believe in Elder Sister!”
Song Anning smiled brightly. It felt good to have someone believe in her.
This happy mood lasted until it was time to bathe her mother. That was when she realized she’d celebrated too soon.
Every member of this family, including herself, wore clothes so dirty they were practically black and shiny, their bodies caked in thick grime as if wearing armor under their garments.
Wang Yinger was especially bad—her skin was no longer visible beneath the filth, her hair tangled into messy knots, and she refused to let anyone undress her.
One pot of water wouldn’t even be enough to clean one person properly.
There were no spare clothes at home, nor any cleaning supplies like soap. A quick glance into the inner room revealed bedding that was pitch black and stiff enough to stand on its own.
The bed was on the verge of collapsing, the walls full of drafts. Yet despite living like this, they still sent money to her maternal grandparents’ family. Song Anning thought to herself: Maybe it’s a good thing Wang Yinger is the way she is now—at least she won’t take the money I earn and give it to those bloodsuckers.
Frustrated, she rubbed her head. Changing their circumstances was going to be a long and arduous task.
Early spring nights were still chilly, and their house was at the foot of the mountain. After giving herself a rough wash and cleaning up the two younger ones, Song Anning burrowed into the bedding and began studying the System.
Right now, the System could only detect the lowest-tier plants. Did that mean, aside from the red dots it marked, the rest of the vegetation was higher-tier?
Hmm… this System had bugs. She could exploit them!
“Nuh-uh! The System is very thorough and prevents hosts from trying to cheat. At Level Zero, it only accepts Red Rank Creatures for recycling. The 100 types of flora and fauna needed for leveling up must also be Red Rank.”
Song Anning listened quietly as the System rambled, then smirked mischievously. “Then I’ll just find higher-tier ones and sell them in town. Easy.”
“…”
“The System is angry now. Goodbye! Hmph!”
Just because she said it didn’t mean she’d act on it immediately. Banyue Village was over ten li from Ping’an Town—too far to walk, and too slow. Even taking an ox cart would take nearly two hours round trip. In that time, she could dig up several pounds of dandelions.
“Hey, System, is there a minimum weight requirement for what you recycle?”
“No limits, no limits! The System will take as much as you gather. But it only accepts what the host digs up—nothing from others.”
“Fine. Ganba! Let’s do this damn thing!”
Beside her, the two children breathed evenly in sleep. On her first night in Banyue Village, Song Anning slept restlessly.
In her dream, her mother had made sesame sugar cakes and fresh egg and spinach soup, with tiny shrimp floating on top… She was smiling and calling her to wake up…
Until the sound of rustling reached her ears…