Chapter 2: Transmigration Benefits 

By dusk, Lin Zhiwen and Lin Zhiqin, the eldest and younger brothers, had returned home.

As soon as they entered, they heard the joyous news of Wanqing waking up. With beaming smiles, they rushed to her bedside.

Zhiwen pulled out a small bundle wrapped in leaves from his chest pocket and presented it to Wanqing. “I picked these wild fruits from the mountain,” he said.

Looking at the little fruits wrapped in fresh leaves, Wanqing felt a warm sensation in her heart.

In her past life, she had been an only child. Although she had cousins, their relationships were distant and polite rather than deeply bonded. This was her first time experiencing such genuine sibling affection.

Noticing her delight, Zhiqin immediately added, “Second Sister, get well soon! Once you’re better, I’ll take you up the mountain to pick more. There are so many wild fruits right now!”

“Deal!” Wanqing grinned, squinting in satisfaction.

The fruits looked ordinary—small and unassuming—but they tasted delicious, a perfect balance of sweet and sour that suited her palate.

She couldn’t help but imagine how good they would be if dried into fruit snacks. In this impoverished and backward place, there was no way she could have modern-day treats like potato chips or spicy strips. But having dried fruit as a snack? That seemed like a fantastic alternative!

With that thought, she found a new goal: First, recover her strength. Then, gather as many fruits as possible to make her own snacks!

That evening, after the family had their meal in the main hall, Wanru brought a bowl of porridge and a small piece of flatbread to Wanqing.

Their eldest brother also handed over a coarse grain biscuit, clearly something he had saved from his own portion.

Wanqing’s heart clenched. She knew their grandmother was extremely stingy, strictly rationing everyone’s meals. Yet her brother and sister had still managed to save food for her. Their kindness was both touching and heartbreaking.

However, the biscuit was truly unappetizing.

As someone who had once been the heir to a century-old culinary empire, when had she ever eaten something so bland and rough?

Yet, her stomach was empty. While missing a single meal wouldn’t kill her, she had been unconscious for two days. If she didn’t eat, she might actually starve to death.

To survive, some sacrifices had to be made.

Forcing herself, she choked down the porridge and the coarse, throat-scratching biscuit. Once her stomach had something to work with, she finally felt a bit of strength returning.

Just as she swallowed the last bite, her parents walked in.

Her father, Lin Heng, was tall and well-built, with handsome features, though his skin was tanned from years of laboring under the sun.

Wanqing thought to herself, Well, that’s to be expected. In this era, men had to work in the fields every day—how could they possibly stay fair-skinned?

Lin Heng carefully checked on her condition, his gaze filled with worry as he gently examined the back of her head. “Qing’er, is there anything you want to eat? I’ll buy it for you tomorrow.”

Wanqing shook her head.

She knew her father loved her, but she also knew their family had no money.

So, even though she desperately craved roast chicken, crispy duck, and suckling pig, she held back. Instead, she smiled sweetly and said, “Father, I’m fine! I’ll recover soon. If you want to buy something, buy it for Mother instead. She works the hardest and deserves something good to eat.”

Lin Heng looked at Wanqing, then at Li Yulan.

He knew his wife had suffered a lot over the years. That was why he worked tirelessly to earn money.

Lin Heng wasn’t a stubborn man. Whenever there was no farm work, he would take on labor jobs in town, earning ten or so copper coins a day, which he then handed over to his mother, Tian Shi.

In the early years of his marriage, he had secretly set aside a few coins for emergencies. But after Wanqing was born weak and sickly, every last cent was spent on her medical treatment.

Not only had his own savings been exhausted, but he had also borrowed a great deal from Tian Shi. Ever since then, he had been working nonstop just to make ends meet—but it was never enough.

From the original host’s memories, Wanqing knew that every time Tian Shi called her a “jinx” or a “money-waster,” the original host would take it to heart, feeling guilty for being a burden on the family.

Li Yulan, ever since giving birth prematurely to Wanqing, had also carried a deep sense of guilt, blaming herself for her daughter’s suffering.

Despite this, Li Yulan loved all her children dearly—so much so that she would give up her own life for them if necessary. She endured the hardest days without complaint. Fortunately, her children were filial, and her husband cherished her, making all her hardships feel worthwhile.

That evening, the family sat together and chatted for a while. As darkness fell, they refrained from using oil lamps to save resources. Once Li Yulan confirmed that Wanqing was feeling well, she urged everyone to return to their rooms for an early night’s rest.

Wanqing shared a room with her sister, and the two lay on their bed, whispering in the dark.

“Jie, is Mother really okay? Don’t lie to me.”

She couldn’t shake the feeling that Li Yulan looked even thinner than in her memories, as if a gust of wind could blow her over. There was always a faint trace of sorrow in her gentle eyes.

For some reason, Wanqing felt deeply unsettled.

“No, Mother is just holding on.”

Hearing this, Wanru lowered her eyes. During the days when Wanqing was unconscious, she had watched their mother deteriorate rapidly, as if her sister’s life was tied to her own—if Wanqing never woke up, it seemed their mother might not survive either.

“After you fainted, Grandmother refused to call a doctor. She even said our whole family is made of sickly weaklings and that if we were going to die, we should do it quickly, so we wouldn’t be a burden on the Lin family. It was Fourth Brother who went and brought the doctor.”

Wanru recounted the events with a heavy heart. “Little Brother was scared out of his mind, crying his eyes out. I ran over when I heard him, and when I saw you lying there in a pool of blood, I was terrified.”

Hearing her sister’s words, Wanqing felt a chill in her heart.

Tian Shi was truly heartless. She wouldn’t even care if she died. It was clear that their family had no real place in this household.

If she wanted to live a good life here, it wouldn’t be easy.

Tian Shi was like a knife constantly hanging over their heads. Unless their family split from the main household, things wouldn’t change.

But was splitting up the family really an option?

From modern dramas, Wanqing knew that in ancient times, as long as the parents were alive, children were not supposed to divide the family. Even if their grandmother despised them, they had no rightful reason to demand separation.

But thinking about Li Yulan’s frail body, Wanqing was truly afraid. She had just arrived in this world—she couldn’t lose her mother.

But how could she convince her parents to separate?

In the modern world, it was normal for families to live independently after marriage. But in ancient times, family unity and filial piety were paramount. Only unfilial sons would bring up the idea of dividing the household.

Wanqing was certain that her father and mother wouldn’t suggest it themselves. As traditional people, Lin Heng and Li Yulan were deeply filial. This wasn’t something that could be rushed—it had to be handled carefully.

Looking at their current level of poverty, Wanqing realized that farming alone wouldn’t bring them wealth. If they wanted a better life, she would have to find another way.

However, she had no interest in earning money just to benefit everyone in the family. She only wanted to take care of her immediate family—her parents and siblings.

Thinking about her comfortable modern life, then comparing it to her current circumstances, she couldn’t help but wonder: If I go to sleep now, will I wake up back in my own world?

With that thought, she drifted off.

In her dream, she stood in a vast green meadow.

Before her was a stone basin, with water bubbling up from within, overflowing and forming a crystal-clear pond on the ground.

The sky was a brilliant blue, the grass a lush green.

Unable to resist, Wanqing walked up to the stone basin and scooped up a handful of water. She took a sip—the water was cool, refreshing, and incredibly pure.

It felt so real.

She drank a few more mouthfuls, savoring the crisp taste. The sensation was so authentic that she began to question whether she was dreaming at all.

To test herself, she pinched her thigh—hard.

“Ow!” The sharp pain made her gasp.

Wait… this isn’t a dream?!

Then… what was this place?

Could it be… a spatial dimension?!

Wanqing’s eyes widened as she recalled the countless transmigration novels she had read in her past life.

Hesitantly, she tried calling out in her mind: “Exit.”

Lying in bed.

Huh???

Lin Wanqing found this truly amazing.

Enter!

With another thought, she entered the space.

Lin Wanqing carefully examined the space. There was a spring of water, a patch of grass, and a misty boundary surrounding the area. Other than that, there was nothing—not even a simple thatched hut.

What was this space for? Storage?

But her family was dirt poor; there was nothing to store.

Farming in the space to get rich? That sounded way too exhausting, especially without any helpers.

Raising livestock in the space? That would stink!

Thinking about it, this space felt rather useless—a bit of a letdown.

She glanced around and suddenly recalled something from novels—spiritual spring water.

Spiritual spring water?

Lin Wanqing bent down and took a few sips from the basin. To her surprise, she instantly felt refreshed and invigorated.

This was a real treasure!

Wanqing exited the space and looked at her older sister, who was still sound asleep beside her. She tested her ability to retrieve objects from a distance and then tried storing things in the space. Everything worked perfectly.

As long as she focused her thoughts, she could effortlessly transfer items in and out of the space.

Wanqing was satisfied. The novels hadn’t lied to her. If she had a spatial dimension and spiritual spring water in ancient times, this was a pretty good starting point.

With her intelligence and skills, building a successful life in ancient times shouldn’t be difficult. As the heir to a century-old family business, she had received elite education from a young age and had international study experience, making her well-versed in both Eastern and Western cultures. From food and entertainment to fashion, shoes, and cosmetics—there was nothing she wasn’t good at.

Just moments ago, she had hoped to wake up and find herself back home. But now, she was filled with hope for the future.

On her first night in ancient times, Wanqing fell asleep, feeling both excited and anxious…