Chapter 2: Gone, All Gone!!! 

Zhao Dashu entered and heard his mother berating his daughter and wife. Madam Song, carrying Zhao Zhenyu on her back, trembled with anger but dared not utter a single word of defiance in front of her mother-in-law. Standing beside them was his eldest daughter, Lihua, who had followed them into the main hall. The young girl hid behind her father, shrinking away from the old woman as if she were a mouse spotting a cat. 

“Wife, take the children inside. Then go find a physician—Zhenyu looks terribly weak. Have the physician examine her. Mother, give me a few copper coins for the medicine.” 

Old Madam Sun jumped up. Silver coins were her lifeblood—aside from Old Master Zhao, no one could pry even a single coin from her. “I don’t have any money, not a single coin! Are you blind? Can’t you see that little wretch is full of energy? Why would she need a physician?” 

“Mother, where do you see Zhenyu looking energetic? If not for divine mercy, my daughter would’ve been lying at the bottom of the river by now!” 

Eldest Brother Zhao scowled and reprimanded him sharply. “Third Zhao, is that any way to speak to your mother?”

Zhao Dashu grew even angrier at the sight of his eldest brother. This beast of a man had instigated their parents to sell his daughter. If his own funds for studying weren’t enough, why didn’t he sell ‘his’ daughter? With Zhenyu’s parents still alive, what right did this uncle have to make decisions for her? 

“Zhao Dawen, don’t think I don’t know—this was all your doing. Mother, look at him! Why are you just standing there? Hurry up and call for a physician!” 

Zhao Dashu scoffed. Call a physician? Fine, let them call one. At least then someone could take a proper look at Zhenyu’s condition. 

The thin walls of the small courtyard did little to muffle their voices, and the crowd gathered outside heard every word clearly. 

“Good heavens!”

So it was true—the Zhao family really had sold their granddaughter. Old Master Zhao and Old Madam Zhao were indeed heartless. But the most shocking part? The one who pushed to sell Zhenyu was none other than Zhao Dawen! 

“Unbelievable!” Everyone knew Old Master and Old Madam Zhao favored their eldest son because he was educated, filial, and promising. The other two sons, while not outstanding, weren’t this terrible. Who could’ve imagined the Zhao family would stoop so low? Listen to them—talking like this while the girl was on the verge of death! They refused to even call a physician, claiming she was fine. Yet when their precious eldest son had a mere nosebleed, they screamed for a doctor immediately. The favoritism was downright shameless! 

The village chief stood among the crowd, his face dark with fury. The Zhao family was nothing but trouble—selling a granddaughter? Was this something a respectable, scholarly household should do? Did they care nothing for their reputation? And now they’d nearly killed someone! This was utter madness! 

This couldn’t be allowed to stand. He would have to have a serious talk with Old Master Zhao. 

Meanwhile, Madam Song carried Zhao Zhenyu back to their room. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes first,” she murmured.

Madam Song’s back was soaked from carrying Zhao Zhenyu, but she paid it no mind, rummaging through a battered trunk for dry clothes. 

Zhenyu took in her “new home.” Aside from a large kang bed, a rickety wooden table, three small stools, and that shabby trunk, there was nothing else. Even the quilt covering her was patched upon patches. This family was truly dirt poor. 

And yet, according to her memories, even this meager furniture had been shamelessly begged for by her father. The rickety table, for instance, originally belonged to Second Uncle Zhao Dayong’s room. Second Uncle hadn’t wanted to part with it, but her father had wheedled and pestered until he gave in—probably just to get rid of him—and had a new one made, handing the old one over to them. 

“Mother, your clothes are wet too. You should change,” Zhenyu said, glancing at her younger sister standing quietly by the bed. ‘Sigh’. Her cheap dad wasn’t actually stupid. The reason he endured so much in this family was simple: her mother hadn’t borne him a son. Afraid Old Master Zhao would kick them out, he swallowed every insult. He knew—his father had always wanted another grandson. 

Eldest Uncle Zhao had been married for over a decade and had two sons and a daughter. Second Uncle was even more “prosperous,” with three sons and a daughter to his name. Only their branch of the family had just “useless” girl—her. No wonder they were treated as the lowest of the low in this household, yet expected to do the most backbreaking labor. 

Zhao Zhenyu smirked coldly. ‘What’s so great about sons?’ A daughter like her could outwork five strapping boys—just wait and see.

“Zhenyu, are you feeling unwell anywhere?” 

Madam Song couldn’t bring herself to suggest calling a physician—her mother-in-law would never allow it. 

“It’s nothing. I’m just tired and need to sleep.” 

Madam Song was only 27, but the hardships of life had aged her beyond her years. Every time Zhao Zhenyu called her “Mother,” it twisted something inside her—’what a cruel fate.’ 

“Sleep, then. Just rest.” She tucked the quilt tighter around Zhenyu. 

Zhenyu closed her eyes. The room fell silent, though the angry shouts from the main hall were still faintly audible. ‘Huh. Seems my cheap dad’s putting up a decent fight.’ 

In the apocalypse, environmental mutations had forced most survivors to awaken abilities to protect themselves against the undead. But ‘her’ ability? A measly three-square-meter storage space. 

By then, food was already scarce. What good was three square meters? It might as well have been useless. 

‘Who knows how long I’ve been dead?’ She wondered if her space still existed now. In a stable, prosperous era, even a small storage ability would be incredibly valuable. Not to mention the treasures she’d scavenged—gold bars, diamonds, emeralds—luxuries no one could afford in the apocalypse. None of it was edible, but just looking at them had brought her comfort. If her space was still there… ‘heh, I’d be filthy rich!’ 

Madam Song watched her daughter’s still face, seemingly asleep, and quietly picked up her needlework. She wouldn’t leave today. She was afraid Zhenyu might catch a chill, so she’d stay and keep watch. 

In Zhao Zhenyu’s mind, a storage space materialized—much larger than before, at least twenty square meters. But it was ‘empty.’ Not a single item remained. 

‘Years of struggle, gone in an instant. Back to square one.’ 

Zhenyu clutched her chest. ‘My gold bars… my pigeon-egg diamonds… my imperial jade… ALL GONE!!!’