Chapter 7: The Household Comes Too

The woodshed had been given to the second household. If they went over now to get firewood, Lin Shi would definitely refuse. Seeing Ping’an run off into the distance, Qiao Nian withdrew her thoughts and began tidying up the kitchen.

The cabinet in the kitchen had also been taken away. The sacks of coarse rice and mixed grain were still sitting on the floor. Qiao Nian first moved them onto the counter to keep them from getting damp and spoiling.

Next, she gathered the bowls, chopsticks, and jars all into one place. With nothing else left to organize, she prepared to draw water and knead the dough. She planned to make a few flatbreads for dinner.

Thankfully, the water vat was buried underground—something the second household couldn’t move right away. Otherwise, she might not have even had water to cook with.

While putting things in order, she also took stock of their food supplies: just over twenty jin of coarse rice and mixed flour, one jar of pickled radish, less than half a bowl of lard, a small bowl of coarse salt, and ten eggs.

At the very least, their meals for the next few days were covered. She also had the two taels of silver Hua Guixiang had given her during the family split. As the eldest of the main household and with Ping’an still young, the responsibility of managing the household now fell to her.

Earning money was a pressing issue. As she scooped flour into the basin, she cracked in an egg and began thinking of ways to make money. Apart from cooking and drawing—skills she could barely count as passable—she wasn’t proficient in much else.

In truth, she had just watched a lot of short videos in her past life. She’d seen how many things were done, and had a general idea, but she’d never actually done them herself. She didn’t know if, when it came down to it, she could make anything look the way it was supposed to.

After thinking for a long while with no clear answer, she wasn’t discouraged. She would think of something eventually. If nothing else, she could go up the mountain to dig for medicinal herbs. In her past life, her village had been a model base for herb cultivation, and she recognized most kinds.

While she mulled things over, her hands didn’t slow. She kneaded the dough and set it aside to rest. Later she would mix in some pork when cooking the flatbreads—they were sure to be delicious. Paired with a pot of coarse rice porridge and pickled radish, it would make for a satisfying rustic meal.

It was a shame about the basket of wild greens Ping’an had gathered—it had been taken by Lin Shi along with the basket itself. She’d have to get the basket back later, as it was the only small one left in the house. The larger basket and bamboo tray had also been taken by Lin Shi. Without them, she wouldn’t even have a container to carry wild vegetables from the mountain.

Before long, Ping’an came back carrying a small bundle of firewood.

The siblings worked together, and before long, a simple dinner was ready. During the process, Qiao Nian mimicked the original owner’s tone, chatting with her younger brother from time to time to strengthen their bond—she didn’t want to slip up later and expose herself.

About half an hour later, as he bit into the soft, savory flatbread, Ping’an’s eyes lit up. “A-Jie, you put an egg in the bread!”

That one “A-Jie” startled Qiao Nian, who’d been lost in thought. Her heart skipped a beat—had she given herself away somehow? She quickly calmed herself and replied, “Didn’t Mother use to put eggs in the flatbreads too? Why are you so surprised?”

Back then, Qiao Mother had worked as a second-class yatou in a wealthy household, responsible for serving meals to the masters. She was kind and well-spoken, and over time, became familiar with the kitchen staff. She quietly picked up many culinary techniques. Later, with the help of a pozi from the Courtyard, she even learned to read a fair number of characters.

At twenty, she saved enough to buy her freedom. By chance, she ended up marrying Qiao Laoda. Over the years, she gradually taught her skills to her two children. As a result, both could read a little, and the original Qiao Nian’s cooking skills had come from Qiao Mother’s attentive guidance.

Qiao Nian planned to make good use of this. In her past life, besides drawing, cooking was her only other talent. If she made something particularly tasty in the future, she could simply say she learned it from her Mother.

Ping’an smiled and replied, “A-Jie, it’s just been so long since we’ve had this—I really missed it.” What he didn’t say was that the familiar taste made him think of their Mother.

He was afraid that if he said it out loud, he’d ruin this rare moment of warmth. And A-Jie had just finally come around—he didn’t want to upset her again, so he kept a smile on his face.

“Then eat more. From now on, it’s just the three of us in this household. You can eat however you like. You’re both growing—no need to hold back.” Hua Guixiang joined in, picking up her chopsticks and placing a few slices of pickled radish onto each of their bowls. “Eat up.”

The three of them enjoyed a warm, peaceful meal together. After cleaning up the dishes, night had already fallen. Since Hua Guixiang would be heading to town with the Village Chief early the next morning, she went to bed early. Ping’an claimed he needed to walk off the meal, having eaten a bit too much at dinner.

Qiao Nian told him to sleep early as well and returned to her room.

The moment the door closed behind her, her entire body finally relaxed.

So much had happened right after she transmigrated—she felt utterly drained. All she could think about was the soft, comfortable bed from her previous life. With that image in mind, her body instinctively collapsed onto the bed.

The next instant, she felt the softness beneath her and the silky, smooth texture at her fingertips. Her eyes snapped open.

What she saw wasn’t a pitch-black room.

A pale pink bed sheet, cream-colored walls, a plain crystal ball on the nightstand, and a cartoon plush toy.

This… was her bedroom from her past life.

“I’m back?”

Qiao Nian was utterly stunned. Her mind couldn’t process it. “I’m back again?”

“Then… am I still alive?”

She looked down at her hands and the clothes she was wearing—still dressed in patched, gray-blue coarse linen typical of ancient times.

Wait—give her a moment. Today had been far too overwhelming.

Thinking of all the novels she’d read, she tried silently mouthing the word “exit” in her mind. Sure enough, in the very next second, she was back on the hard, lumpy bed in the dark room—the lighting dim and shadowy.

In that flash of realization, Qiao Nian seemed to understand what was happening. “Exit. Enter.” She tried the commands several times and began to carefully sense the existence of the space in her mind.

Qiao Nian finally confirmed it—she had a space, and it was her house from her past life.

More precisely, her small Courtyard from her previous life had become her space. But there were still some differences.

For example, apart from the area around the well, the rest of the Courtyard had turned into rich, vibrant black soil that looked full of life. The well had shrunk, but the water inside shimmered and sparkled beautifully, and she could now reach in and scoop it up with ease.

She guessed this water might be the legendary spiritual spring water. She ran to the kitchen, grabbed a dipper, and rushed back to the well. Scooping up a ladle, she examined the water—it looked no different from regular water.

Gathering her courage, she took a sip. Even if it wasn’t spiritual spring water, it was still well water her family had used for decades. It couldn’t hurt.

As the cool water slid down her throat, a warm current instantly spread through her entire body. Qiao Nian felt her body lighten, and all the exhaustion vanished in an instant.

“This really is spiritual spring water. Amazing.” Qiao Nian was thrilled. Heaven had truly been kind to her—not only had she transmigrated, she’d even been gifted such a powerful golden finger.

With spiritual spring water and the space as her foundation, Qiao Nian’s only worry now was living too well and stirring envy.

In her excitement, she didn’t forget to caution herself inwardly—to keep a low profile and never let anyone discover her secret.

Everything in the room was exactly as it had been before she died. After her terminal illness was confirmed incurable, she had used most of her savings to buy all the things she’d once longed for but had never allowed herself to buy.

Her home had a double-door refrigerator, a giant freezer packed full, shelves of condiments and spices, and rice, flour, and oil stacked high in one kitchen corner.

The living room was filled with snacks and drinks, along with boxes upon boxes of semi-finished ingredients for gourmet cooking bought online—stacked as tall as a person, still neatly piled and untouched.

She had originally planned to live out her remaining days holed up in that cozy home. Who could have guessed that the very night she finished stocking up, she would fall asleep and never wake again?

Qiao Nian walked through every room in her “house,” checking each one. Everything was just as she remembered.

At this point, Qiao Nian was so overjoyed she wanted to scream out loud. Thank you, Heaven, for letting me transmigrate and even gifting me a golden finger.

I was immature when I was a ghost before—please forgive me. You’re magnanimous, so spare this foolish little one…