Su Ling finished her work and glanced at the time—it was already 10 p.m. She grabbed a pack of braised beef-flavored instant noodles and opened the door behind her.  

Behind the door was the living quarters provided by the system.  

It had a three-partitioned bathroom, a simple open kitchen, a small bed, a set of cabinets, and a desk.  

Su Ling boiled water, prepared the noodles, and carried them back to the checkout counter.  

“Huahua, do you need to eat?”  

Huahua happily rolled over in the cardboard box: “No need… Huh?”  

In an instant, Huahua leaped onto the glass counter. Su Ling had just timed it right—she opened the cup noodles, and an overpowering aroma instantly filled the entire shop.  

“Ding ling—”  

“Welcome! What would you like to order?”  

Su Ling stirred the noodles with her chopsticks and stood up to see a thin little boy walk in.  

He was so skinny, like a bamboo pole, his bones pressing against his skin. His hair was messy and dry, but his eyes were strikingly beautiful—though his gaze was fierce, like a wolf cub ready to pounce.  

“Host, he’s the male lead of the ‘Lucky Koi’ novel,” Huahua transmitted silently.  

Su Ling understood: Of course. Even though he looks like a little beggar, you can still tell he’s different.

“I heard you sell rice here.”  

Shen Ping’an’s voice was hoarse. The warmth enveloping him and the rich aroma of the noodles stirred a flicker of longing in his eyes.  

But he quickly shook his head. Wearing shoes that were clearly too big for him, he shuffled toward the counter.  

There really is rice!

Su Ling put the lid back on her noodles and stepped forward, introducing warmly: “Premium rice and white flour are five cents per pound, older rice is two cents per pound. There’s a 12% discount now. The instant noodles behind me come in three flavors: old chicken soup, braised beef, and pickled vegetable beef.”  

“Old chicken soup?!”  

Shen Ping’an perked up.  

Su Ling coughed lightly. “Old chicken soup flavor. Just add hot water and wait five minutes—it’s convenient. They’re five cents per pack.”  

Shen Ping’an knew real chicken soup wouldn’t be this cheap.  

But… he wanted to buy it.  

“Boss, I’d like two pounds of older rice and one pack of chicken-flavored instant noodles.”  

Su Ling acknowledged and started scooping the rice.  

“Wait—could you measure exactly five cents’ worth of rice?” Shen Ping’an asked softly.  

Su Ling nodded. “Sure.”  

She scooped the rice onto the scale, made sure the weight was exact, tied the bag tightly, and handed it over along with a pack of chicken-flavored noodles.  

Shen Ping’an thanked her and left with his purchases.  

Su Ling lifted the lid and continued eating her noodles.  

“Huahua, the male lead had such a hard life as a kid?”  

“Yeah, he lived in a cowshed.”  

Huahua stretched out comfortably in the cardboard box.  

“But according to the novel’s setting, most of the villagers in this village are decent. The male lead and his grandfather live in an old, abandoned cowshed up in the mountains—it’s pretty quiet there too.”  

Su Ling finished her noodles, even drinking up all the broth.  

This stuff—if you eat it every day, it’s awful. But if you go a while without it, you start craving it.  

After finishing, she washed the bowl and sat back at the counter, staring blankly at the heavy snow outside.  

Soon, the warmth inside made it comfortable enough for Su Ling to take off her down jacket and drape it over the chair.  

…

Wang Guoqing’s stomach was warm and full as he trekked up the mountain with a bamboo basket on his back.  

Inside the basket, wrapped in a small quilt, was a portion of porridge. He planned to deliver it to them so they could eat something and soothe their stomachs.  

Besides Wang Guoqing, many others were also heading up the mountain. Now that the village had a shop, things weren’t as dangerous as before.  

Deep in the mountains, Old Man Wang’s face was frozen stiff, his skin so cold he could barely open his eyes. His expression was full of worry.  

The heavy snow had sealed off the mountain, the thick layers burying the tree trunks.  

Looking around, everything was a vast expanse of white.  

The experienced hunters relied on the bare trees to retrace their usual mountain path.  

But along the way, they hadn’t even spotted a single hole, let alone any animals—not even a mouse. Panic began to set in. In the end, they had no choice but to venture deeper into the mountains.  

Trudging through the snow, they held onto each other to avoid sinking in. But even so, they found nothing.  

Hunter Wang Dahu raised his hand, signaling everyone to stop.  

“We can’t go any further. There are too many slopes and cliffs ahead—it’s too dangerous.”  

The group exchanged glances and let out a collective sigh of despair.

What do we do if we can’t find any food? People are starving—how can the elderly and children at home hold on any longer?

“Let’s… let’s keep looking.”  

“Just a little further. If we still don’t find anything, we’ll go back.”  

“Yeah, just a bit more.”  

“No, it’s too dangerous.”  

Wang Dahu was just as distressed, but there was nothing he could do. They couldn’t risk going deeper.  

Suddenly, Wang Baoguo straightened up and looked around. “Did you all hear something?”  

Wang Congbing also strained his ears.  

Wang Dahu, with his hunter’s sharp hearing, immediately pinpointed the direction. “It’s coming from over there—and it’s on our way down the mountain.”  

“Must be villagers. Did they come looking for us? It’s not even noon yet.”  

“Could the road to town be cleared? Can we buy grain now?”  

“Hey, maybe that’s it!”  

“Let’s go, let’s turn back.”  

Wang Dahu quickly interjected, “Don’t run off. Follow me slowly. The fresh snow has buried the path—be careful.”  

Everyone agreed and followed Wang Dahu step by step.  

Old Man Wang sighed in despair. “What do we do if we still couldn’t find anything?”  

Tears welled up in Wang Baoguo’s eyes. “Maybe Dogdan just wasn’t meant to be with our family.”  

Wang Congbing’s heart ached. He patted his brother’s shoulder. “Should I ask my father-in-law for help?”  

Wang Baoguo shook his head tearfully. “No, your wife’s family isn’t much better off. How can we trouble them?”  

Just then, the voices grew clearer, gradually reaching the group.  

“Dad! Uncle!”  

“Big Brother! Second Brother!”  

“Uncle! Auntie!”  

Wang Congbing listened carefully. “Is that… Guoqing?”  

Wang Baoguo nodded. “I think it is.”  

Wang Dahu led the group downward, and when they finally saw figures in the distance, both sides quickened their pace.  

The newcomers each carried small bamboo baskets. As they got closer, everyone started talking at once.  

Wang Dahu glanced at the village elders and asked, “Am I hallucinating from the cold? They said there’s a shop now?”  

“A shop selling rice?”  

Wang Guoqing’s eyes lit up with excitement. “And white flour too! But it’s expensive—five cents a pound.”  

“I saw the flour—pure white, like this snow.”  

“It’d make such good steamed buns.”  

“I want dumplings.”  

“…”  

Old Man Wang grabbed Wang Guoqing’s arm. “The family bought rice? You’re sure? *Real* rice?”  

“Yes, Dad!”  

Wang Guoqing took out a container of plain congee and handed it to his father. “Mom said the three of you should share this to regain some strength before heading down. There’s more at home—it’s still warm in the pot.”  

All eyes locked onto the aluminum lunchbox. Swallowing hard, they stared in awe.  

Did they hear right?  

Plain congee!

Under everyone’s gaze, Old Man Wang opened the box, revealing steaming, thick white porridge.  

Wang Baoguo urged, “Dad, you eat first.”  

Old Man Wang didn’t refuse. After taking a sip, his entire demeanor brightened.  

“Real congee! Real white porridge! We’re saved… we’re saved!”  

He took another sip before passing it to Wang Baoguo, who drank some and handed it to his brother. Wang Congbing then passed it back to their father.  

The others immediately turned their attention to the bamboo baskets. Sure enough, they all held congee—some thick and slightly oily, others watery but still better than the morning’s nothingness.  

Anything was enough to survive.

A few families had nothing—either they hadn’t gone to buy or had no control over household funds.  

Finally, the village chief raised his hand. “Let’s go. On our way down, we’ll stop by the shop. Those with money and no rice at home—go buy some. Our Dawang Village has met a kind soul!”