Chapter 1: Transmigrated into a Book? I’m a Cannon Fodder?

In the summer of 1981, the chirping of sparrows on the tree woke Ye Qiu. She frowned deeply, feeling a sticky sensation on her back. Without opening her eyes, she said: “Xiaodu, Xiaodu, turn on the air conditioner.”

Receiving no response, Ye Qiu furrowed her brows and opened her eyes. She looked around at the unfamiliar place from the Western Zhou era—stained walls with spiderwebs. Forcing herself to sit up despite the discomfort in her body, she had barely reacted when the door was pushed open.

A thin, dirty-faced little boy suddenly ran in, holding a chipped white bowl in his hands.

“Mom, you’re awake. Drink some water.”

Ye Qiu froze in place, completely at a loss. She dumbly accepted the water and drank it in one gulp. Her throat was so dry she couldn’t speak. After coughing once, she said: “Alright, I’ll lie down a bit more. You go out first.”

The boy didn’t seem surprised at all. He gently closed the door behind him.

After he left, Ye Qiu closed her eyes again. A few minutes later, she let out a long sigh.

She had actually transmigrated into a book titled The Soft Little Educated Youth of the 1980s. Unfortunately, she was not the female lead, and her husband, Lu Huaichuan, was not the male lead either.

Their whole family was destined to be cannon fodder. Ye Qiu had married Lu Huaichuan, but it was no different from being a widow. Because he didn’t qualify to have his family accompany him with the military, she had to stay home and take care of two children.

Later, she was seduced by a smooth-talking educated youth and ran off, abandoning her children to elope. Within just two years, she died of illness.

Lu Huaichuan died while on a home visit, drowning while trying to save someone. The two children became orphans and eventually strayed onto the wrong path—one died, the other was badly injured.

Ye Qiu took a deep breath and sat up again. Faced with the surroundings before her, she couldn’t even manage a smile. The original host had a fever and ended up bringing her here—this was the 1980s, an era of food scarcity.

Fortunately, the original host had only been married into the Lu family for a few months. Using her pregnancy as leverage, she had forced her in-laws to split the household and lived comfortably at home on her absent husband’s military allowance. Ye Qiu didn’t have to worry about supporting her in-laws anymore.

Her expression shifted, and in the next second, she appeared inside a warehouse. Inside were the supplies she had accumulated over the years—food and drinks of all kinds. As the owner of several restaurants, Ye Qiu had once encountered a rare opportunity: with just a thought, she could transport things into a personal space.

Overjoyed yet fearful of an impending apocalypse, she had used nearly all her earnings to stockpile supplies. The warehouse was orderly: boxes of apples and watermelons were stacked like small hills, and not far off were countless cans of fruit, meat, and fish.

Luckily, time inside the space was frozen. Even perishable goods stayed as fresh as the moment they were placed inside. She had also stored plenty of rice, flour, oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, and tea in advance. Fearing that she might not be able to eat well during the apocalypse, she had bought hundreds of kilograms of smoked fish, preserved pork, beef, and pork belly. Dozens of crates of live fish and shrimp were also stored.

She even prepared ample daily necessities—quilts, towels, clothes—everything one could think of. She had packed five large boxes full of instant buns and dumplings. If Ye Qiu brought out the supplies from her space, she could easily feed a hundred people for ten years.

“Mom—I’m hungry.” While Ye Qiu was inside eating an apple to fill her stomach, a knock sounded at the door. Another childish voice called out in a soft, milky tone.

She opened the door, and a small figure shot forward like a cannonball and wrapped his arms around her leg.

“Mom, I want to eat.”

Ye Qiu looked down at her younger son, Lu Zhibei, and shut her eyes in despair. A perfectly fine child had been raised to look like a big-headed baby—his head was large, arms thin, and his face was so dirty it was unrecognizable.

Letting children run wild was one thing—but being filthy was another. Otherwise, Ye Qiu didn’t know how long her so-called motherly compassion could hold out.

“You’ll eat later. First, the two of you are getting a bath.”

Fortunately, it was summer. The sun outside was scorching enough to make someone faint. Ye Qiu boiled a pot of water and motioned for the two children to get inside. She scrubbed them both from head to toe—twice. The water turned murky.

While the two children were still playing in the water, Ye Qiu rummaged through the room, turning boxes and cabinets upside down. Yet she couldn’t find any spare clothes for the children. What she did find, however, were several new outfits that belonged to the original host—one for each season of the year. She had truly suffered the children but never herself.

With no other option, she retrieved two white sleeveless undershirts from her space. When Lu Zhinan saw the clean clothes, his eyes lit up.

“Mom, where did the new clothes come from?”

“I bought them for you in the county yesterday.” Ye Qiu replied casually, not expecting Lu Zhinan to catch on so quickly.

“Mom, you’re lying. I saw you only bought yourself two dresses yesterday—there weren’t any undershirts.”

“Look carefully. Aren’t these your clothes? I can’t wear them anyway.” Children being too clever was not always a good thing. Ye Qiu pinched their cheeks and let them dress themselves while she went into the kitchen.

“Alright, there are egg cakes on the table. One for each of you—eat them to fill your stomachs. If you fight over them, then no one gets any.”

Worried that the two might argue over the egg cakes, Ye Qiu laid down the rules in advance.

Perhaps it was because they had such an unreliable mother that Lu Zhinan, as the eldest, was remarkably clever and sensible. Lu Zhibei clung to his older brother constantly. The two boys ate in small bites, reluctant to finish their share in one go.

Lu Zhinan, hearing what his mother said, poked his head out from behind his little brother.

“Mom, we’re almost out of food at home. Should we write a letter to Dad?”

“Write to your dad for what?” Ye Qiu could only wish Lu Huaichuan never came home. With a monthly allowance, two kids, and no in-laws to live with—this was a dream come true.

Lu Zhibei still had egg cake crumbs at the corner of his mouth. Upon hearing this, he giggled. “Of course to ask Dad to send money!”

“Children shouldn’t worry about these things.” Ye Qiu couldn’t help but feel exasperated at their schemes. If that cheap husband of theirs ever heard this, his blood pressure would surely spike. To think, in the minds of these two kids, their father was just a walking ATM.

She stepped out into the yard and took a look around. In one corner, a small patch of land had been cleared. The plan to plant vegetables had supposedly been made last year, yet the original host had done nothing with it until now. Ye Qiu couldn’t bear to see it wasted. She resolved to plant the seeds right after they finished eating.

She threw herself into the kitchen with enthusiasm, determined to cook a proper meal for the two children and give them something nourishing. Unfortunately, after inspecting the whole kitchen, she found nothing. Looking up, she spotted a hanging basket under the eaves. Inside, she discovered a small piece of cured meat. She washed it and set it aside.

Meanwhile, after finishing their egg cakes, Lu Zhinan and Lu Zhibei licked their fingers clean, not wanting to waste even a crumb. As they played near the doorway, they saw a small figure approaching from afar.

“Grandma!” Lu Zhibei greeted her warmly.

Zhao Menglan came closer and immediately noticed the boys’ new white undershirts, so bright they almost reflected light. Instinctively, she glanced toward the house and asked in a low voice: “Eldest boy, where’s your mother? Still sleeping?”

“No, my mom—” Before Lu Zhinan could finish, Zhao Menglan quietly pulled two scallion pancakes from her bosom and stuffed them into her grandsons’ arms, whispering in distress: “Hurry and eat these. You must be starving.”

“Grandma, I’m not hungry. I just had an egg cake.” Lu Zhinan said honestly.

But the more he insisted, the more heartbroken Zhao Menglan felt. Look how skinny the poor child had become—he must be delirious from hunger. Egg cake? As if Ye Qiu would ever let the children eat something like that. More likely, she would save it for herself.