Chapter 41.1

That night, as the scattered lights of Longzhou gradually dimmed, the city fell into slumber.

In front of a four-story residential building, the only sound was the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock and the occasional footsteps from the third floor above.

Under the glow of an electric lamp, Wen Xin sat with a pen tucked into her hair, another pen in hand, squinting at her book as she highlighted key points. Initially, she thought she could breeze through her review using the textbooks from this era and ace the exam effortlessly. But when she finally got hold of the books, reality hit her—she had transmigrated into a fictional, alternate history novel!

An alternate history novel!

Although the general timeline resembled the one she had lived in before, there were noticeable discrepancies in historical events. The names of national leaders had changed, and the timeline was slightly different. Wen Xin felt like crying a waterfall. Did this mean she had to relearn political science from scratch? And geography—flipping through an old, worn-out copy of China’s Economic Geography, she nearly cursed out loud. The entire world map was different!

Not just China—everything had changed! And don’t even get her started on literature…

She was utterly devastated, her hair now a chaotic mess from all the frustrated grabbing. Song Qian, get out here! If she could, she’d beat the author to death. She didn’t even care that the author once mistakenly wrote her as a courtesan instead of a proper lady—she let that slide. But now, staring at this utterly unrecognizable history book, she genuinely wanted to strangle her!

To make things worse, schools in this era hadn’t even compiled standardized textbooks yet. The high schooler she had paid for materials had stuffed a chaotic mix of his sister’s senior-year textbooks, hand-copied notes, and all sorts of political quotes and articles into a bundle. Do I have to memorize all of this for the exam?! She was completely dumbfounded.

Staring at the overwhelming review materials, Wen Xin felt her brain frying. Luckily, at least foreign languages hadn’t changed. If even the language had been different in this alternate world, she would have collapsed on the floor and cried herself unconscious.

After a while, she huffed in frustration, threw down her pen, and decided to pack up. Earlier that day, she had bought some fabric and yarn and handed them over to Grandma Wei. The old lady scolded her for wasting money again, telling her not to buy such things in the future. But despite her words, she was clearly pleased. She even dug out a long, green overcoat from the bottom of a box.

“…This belonged to a family member who never got the chance to wear it before we lost touch. There are no daughters in our family, so you should keep it and tailor it into something for yourself. It’s never been worn. The design might be a bit old-fashioned, but the fabric is excellent.”

The old lady was firm about giving it to her. Wen Xin tried to refuse, but the garment was already shoved into her hands, leaving her no choice but to accept it.

After tidying up the table, she examined the coat more closely. It looked like something a wealthy woman from the Republican era would wear—long and elegant, with side slits.

Though the garment itself was finished, it lacked embroidery. It was clearly an unfinished piece. However, the fabric was undoubtedly premium quality—under the light, the green silk emitted a soft, pearlescent glow. When she draped it over her bare arm, it felt like a second layer of skin, smooth and cool to the touch, with no friction whatsoever.

Even if Wen Xin wasn’t an expert, she could tell this was high-grade silk. But as luxurious as it was, nobody in this era wore silk anymore. If she insisted on wearing it, it could only serve as a nightgown.

Before going to bed, she counted her remaining money—only 760 yuan left. This made her feel a deep sense of urgency. Seven months of living expenses, plus college tuition—even with financial aid, she needed to save up. This amount was nowhere near enough.

She was getting anxious.

Her system had a unique ability—it extracted the purest essence from ingredients. For example, if she had a piece of ginger, the system would extract just three to five drops of the most concentrated ginger juice. The ginger itself would remain intact, but once cut open, its flavor would be noticeably weaker.

The extracted essence was the purest part. Even half a drop in a dish could create an incredibly rich flavor. And since the extracted substances were sterile and wouldn’t spoil, they could be stored indefinitely.

During her recent trips around Longzhou, she had seen cheap fish and shrimp for sale. She had spent two yuan on a whole pile, extracted fish oil and shrimp oil, then sold the leftovers for six mao. The extracted oils were incredibly flavorful—just a couple of drops in soup or a dish made everything deliciously fragrant.

But the problem was… she couldn’t sell them.

The extracted oils and essences had no commercial value—only she knew what they were, and no one else could understand their significance.

Wen Xin was desperate for money, nearly scratching at the walls in frustration. If only her system had a storage function! She could stockpile rice, flour, and other essentials, then sell them bit by bit whenever she needed cash. That way, she’d never have to worry about money again.

But she didn’t dare dwell on the thought for too long. What if thinking about it too much actually changes the system?!

Between extraction and storage, she’d still choose extraction. The benefits of extracted food were incredible—enhancing both taste and nutritional value. She loved cooking, but even more than that, she loved watching people be amazed by her dishes.

Then, just when they thought they could enjoy more, she’d stop cooking altogether.

Make them crave it but never get it.

Just like how her university roommates used to beg her to cook, tearing up in gratitude whenever she did.

They even called her “Dad.”

She only used the system’s capabilities sparingly on others, reserving most of its benefits for her own well-being. Moreover, compared to the system’s mere storage function, the extraction ability was far more advanced.

However, in this era of material scarcity, people had never seen high-end products. She couldn’t make money selling extracted premium goods like she could in later years through online shopping—where selling essential oils, olive oil, or coconut oil alone would have made her rich. Back then, some buyers questioned whether her products, from an unknown brand, were made in a small workshop and if they were even safe.

But anyone who used them knew—the quality was the best on the market, far superior to exports. If not for the money, she wouldn’t have been willing to sell the system’s extracted products at all. Eventually, she resorted to limited-quantity sales—take it or leave it. The moment they were listed, they sold out instantly, and no one ever complained about the brand again.

So now, should she buy a bunch of tea seeds and beans to extract edible oil for sale? Hmm… that actually seemed like a viable idea.

The next day, Wen Xin grabbed a bag and headed to Longcheng’s Second Grain Store to take a look around. Longcheng wasn’t a big city, but it was close to Xianghai and several other major cities, so supplies were relatively abundant. The grain store was right next to the post office, and the area bustled with people coming and going.

She joined the queue and waited her turn. The store was a small, crowded space of just a few dozen square meters, filled with shelves and sacks piled high with grains. Inside, one clerk handled records, two managed payments, and four distributed the goods.

The available grains included rice, flour, red beans, and soybeans. When her turn came, Wen Xin directly asked for soybeans. Back in the capital, when she bought imperial oil and clothing, she had collected a good amount of national grain coupons in exchange for cash. Now, she could use them to buy soybeans.

In this alternate-era setting, grain prices were high. White flour was 1.85 yuan per jin, Soybean oil 8.14 yuan per jin, Rice Depending on grade, either 1.85 or 1.75 yuan per jin, Cornmeal and sorghum 0.95 yuan per jin, Soybeans 1.16 yuan per jin

Wen Xin quickly did the math in her head. The system could extract two liang (100g) of oil per jin of soybeans. The remaining soybeans still contained oil, but what was left was the inferior portion rejected by the system. The normal oil yield was around four liang per jin, so the extraction rate had been halved. However, the leftover soybeans could still be sold for about 0.45-0.50 yuan per jin—less than half the original price. This meant she could make a profit of over 50%.

When it was her turn, Wen Xin smiled at the cashier. “Ten jin of soybeans, please,” she said, handing over the money and grain coupons.

The store clerk gave her a curious glance—few people bought soybeans in bulk. Wen Xin took the bag, surprised by how heavy it was.

After leaving the grain store, she found a quiet alleyway. Not that it really mattered—no one could see the system’s extraction process anyway.

Summoning the system, she selected the extraction function, and it began working automatically. When she opened the bag again, the soybeans looked mostly the same at first glance. But upon closer inspection, they were slightly wrinkled, and the germ—the most nutrient-rich part—had been stripped of its oil, leaving only what the system deemed “waste.”

Well, not exactly waste—the remaining soybeans were still edible, just slightly lower in nutritional value.

Carrying the bag, Wen Xin approached a woman nearby and tugged at her sleeve. The woman gave her a sideways glance.

Wen Xin whispered, “Want to buy some soybeans? Eight jin, selling for 0.50 yuan per jin, plus grain coupons.”

The woman had short hair, sharp eyes, and a thin mouth. Just moments ago, she had been bickering with an acquaintance about minor price differences, trying to save every last cent. At first, she wanted to refuse—she wasn’t even looking to buy soybeans; she wanted refined grains instead.

But when she heard “0.50 yuan per jin,” she swallowed her words.

She reached into Wen Xin’s bag and grabbed a handful of soybeans. They seemed a bit smaller than usual, but at this price? This was a steal. Soybeans at the grain store cost 1.16 yuan per jin—this was less than half that!

She nudged her companion, signaling Wen Xin to follow them to a discreet corner near the grain store.

The two women squatted beside the soybean sack, sifting through it thoroughly. After confirming there were no issues, they exchanged glances and swiftly agreed on the deal. They took four jin each and found a place to weigh them properly.

At this price, even if they didn’t eat the soybeans themselves, they could gift them to relatives. If they said they bought them for 1.16 yuan per jin, the recipient would likely return a gift of equivalent value.

With this sale, Wen Xin’s soybeans had effectively cost her 0.71 yuan per jin. From the ten jin, she had extracted two jin of oil, which cost her 7 yuan in total. The grain store sold soybean oil for 8.14 yuan per jin, but she could sell it for 7 yuan—still doubling her investment.

Not bad. A small but decent profit.

Wen Xin had already asked around—there was a black market nearby, just two alleys south. After returning to the Wei household, she disguised herself carefully, found a small clay jar and an oil measuring container, and headed over.

Technically, it was still called a black market, and private sales were illegal. But being so close to Xianghai, where economic reforms were starting to take effect, the tide was shifting.

Grain and various agricultural products were becoming more abundant, and within two years, grain coupons would lose much of their value. Many restaurants had already stopped accepting them, preferring to take cash instead.

As a result, the so-called “black market” had evolved into more of a free-trade zone. Although transactions were still conducted discreetly, the number of buyers and sellers had grown significantly—enough to fill an entire street. The authorities largely turned a blind eye, rarely making arrests anymore.

To Wen Xin’s surprise, the oil sold faster than she expected. In no time, a square-faced man bought up her entire stock.

“Only 14 yuan?” he remarked. “The grain store charges 8 yuan per jin, and you don’t even require oil coupons. I’d be a fool not to buy this.”

After the sale, Wen Xin took a stroll through the market and noticed someone else selling soybeans—about ten jin. Without hesitation, she bought them all.

The vendor, a burly man, handed her the sack and then scratched his head. “Hey, miss, I need that bag back. You didn’t bring your own container?”

Wen Xin took the sack with a smile. As soon as she touched it, she activated the system, immediately extracting oil.

She continued smiling at the man. “Just give me a moment, big brother. I’ll sell the soybeans and return your bag right away.”

The man blinked, confused. “Huh?” He had no idea what she meant.

At that moment, a woman with a headscarf wrapped tightly around her head approached stealthily and asked, “How much for the beans?”

Lowering her voice, Wen Xin quickly replied, “Half price, five mao. This is all I have left. If you don’t take them now, I’ll just bring them back. You won’t find this price anywhere else.”

“Five mao?” The man who had just sold the beans to Wen Xin for one yuan stared at her like she was a fool. He had just sold them to her at full price, and now she was selling them at half the cost? Was she out of her mind?

“Five mao? Are you serious?” The woman immediately squatted down, opened the sack, and grabbed a handful of beans for inspection. They seemed slightly smaller and a bit drier than usual, but five mao was an absolute steal.

Borrowing the man’s scale, Wen Xin quickly weighed and sold off the beans.

The woman, clearly someone used to hard labor, hoisted the sack onto her shoulder with ease and strode away in large steps.

“Girl, didn’t you just take a huge loss?” The man’s voice trembled with disbelief. He had seen people make bad deals before, but never this bad. Buying at one yuan and selling at five mao? What was she thinking?

“No loss at all.” Wen Xin smiled. “Big brother, are you interested in buying oil? Seven yuan per jin. I have two and a half jin left—just give me fifteen yuan.”

Everything produced by her system was of the highest quality. The oil Wen Xin sold had a crystal-clear golden hue, immediately recognizable as premium-grade.

In the end, Wen Xin walked away carrying only an empty oil jar, skipping happily through the alley back home. She hadn’t expected to make over ten yuan so easily.

On her way back, she passed by a state-run restaurant. To her surprise, their menu had seafood—hairy crabs, plump with roe and full of meat. She bought three, ate one on the spot, and packed the other two to take home—all for just three yuan.

…

That evening, as he gnawed on a hairy crab, Grandpa Wei casually mentioned something to Wen Xin.

“… The wife of the Gu family said your fish head soup is excellent. She’s willing to pay you two yuan per pot. I think it’s a fair price. You just need to prepare the ingredients, and I’ll keep an eye on it while it cooks. You can go back and continue studying.”

The elderly couple knew Wen Xin was preparing for her university entrance exams next year and were very supportive.

“If you don’t want to do it, I’ll let her know,” Grandpa Wei added, watching as Wen Xin absentmindedly picked at her rice, probably unwilling.