Volume One, Chapter Four: Discovering the Space

Dong Qianqian crouched down to look the little girl in the eyes. The child was skin and bones, looking as if she had been chronically malnourished.

She spoke to her gently, "Little sister, could you do me a favor?" She then handed over a bag of eggs. "When the doors to the neighborhood committee office open, if a woman in a magenta coat appears, could you please block her for a moment? Just block her, and this bag of eggs will be yours."

The little girl with the bob haircut coveted the eggs, but she instinctively felt this older sister had ill intentions. Her natural reaction was to shake her head, but she could not resist the temptation of the eggs. In all her life, she had only ever eaten eggs on her birthday.

"Alright, I'll help you. Just block her—I'm not a pickpocket."

Dong Qianqian was amused by the earnest look on the little girl's face as she stared at the eggs, drooling. She gave the girl’s small nose a gentle pinch and said, "I'm not a pickpocket either, don't worry, it's not a bad thing."

The little girl accepted the eggs, half-believing her, though she remained skeptical; after all, in these past few years, few who entered those doors ever came out smiling. She began to happily count the eggs inside the bag.

Having this girl act as a lookout was merely a backup plan. Dong Qianqian wasn't certain exactly when her stepmother would arrive to register; the plot only confirmed it would be today. However, Dong Qianqian couldn't wait by the door all day—what if she missed her while grabbing a meal or attending to something else?

As expected, by nearly 10:00 AM, Lin Xuehua had not appeared all morning. The neighborhood committee office was bustling with people, none of whom were her. Just as Dong Qianqian began to think she would have to wait until the afternoon to confront her, she suddenly remembered that it was Monday. According to custom, the textile factory's women's federation, where her stepmother worked, held a weekly meeting every Monday morning.

In the afternoon, they would conduct follow-up visits to impoverished families, and she always returned home late. Therefore, the only opportunity for Lin Xuehua to register would be the window during her lunch break when she returned to the factory. In winter, Dong Ercheng insisted on having lamb soup every day at noon. Since the cafeteria didn't serve it daily, Lin Xuehua had to return home every day to stew it. Meanwhile, Dong Jianxi, who lived with them, was a year older but already had a girlfriend; the two were inseparable and wouldn't return home until after ten in the evening. This meant the house was empty right now.

Without time to overthink, Dong Qianqian ran back home. Relying on his status as the son-in-law of the former factory director, Dong Ercheng had been allocated a standalone villa adjacent to the current director's residence. As always, the household followed the factory's call to leave their doors unlocked, cultivating an image of a society where nothing lost on the road is picked up and doors are left open at night.

This made things convenient for her. The most important item was the rectangular iron box. Using the lock-picking skills she had learned from an old maid while serving as a junior palace maid in her previous life, she pried open the safe. Inside, she found gold bars, grain and oil ration coupons, bundles of paper currency, and her primary objective: the household registration booklet.

Before she could decide what to do with the booklet, the cold air she had inhaled while running triggered a violent coughing fit. It persisted, making it difficult for her to breathe. She vaguely remembered that the original owner suffered from mild asthma and quickly grabbed a lily bulb to hold in her mouth. This was a condition inherited from her maternal grandfather’s side. Her family members were all dependent on ancient medicinal formulas—decoctions for wheezing, dried tangerine peels, lingzhi, and ginseng. They were usually fine, but the condition would flare up whenever the season changed or during periods of intense environmental or emotional stress, leaving them feeling as though they were at death’s door.

Thinking of how the original owner had suffered for so many years in the harsh environment of the Northwest, while the very person who caused her misery stepped on her suffering to enjoy government subsidies, Dong Qianqian felt an urge to send Lin Fengjiao’s precious treasure straight to hell.

While contemplating how to handle the household registration booklet and Lin Xuehua’s beloved daughter, Dong Qianqian prepared to change her appearance for her next move. As she changed her clothes while enduring her intermittent wheezing, she suddenly noticed a thumb-sized blue mark on the inner side of her right arm. The shape resembled the jade pendant given to her by the original owner’s scapegoat at the Bridge of Helplessness.

Dong Qianqian scrubbed it hard, but it wouldn't fade. Desperate, she fetched a basin of hot water, hoping to wash it off. To her shock, the moment the wet towel touched the mark, it vanished into thin air. Terrified, thinking she had encountered some supernatural force, she waved her hands wildly in the air. The water basin, the bed, and the wardrobe on her right all disappeared.

Dong Qianqian panicked and pressed herself against the table on her left, which hadn't vanished, feeling an overwhelming sense of dread. She stared at the empty room, cold sweat pouring down her face. She wanted to escape this eerie house, but as she turned, her right arm brushed against the table, and it too vanished into thin air.

Dong Qianqian finally realized what was happening. In the last ten years of the original owner's life, internet literature had flourished, with stories of "portable spaces," "spiritual springs," and other "golden finger" tropes becoming common. Even the protagonist, Dong Shuanghuan, possessed a fertility-enhancing cheat. So, had the original owner left her a storage space? Holding her arm, she mimicked the protagonists from the novels she remembered and silently thought the word "Space."

A flash of blue light shimmered, and suddenly she was standing in a picturesque mountain courtyard. It was a standard four-section courtyard of a scholar-official, complete with layered flower-gateways, covered walkways, screen walls, east and west wing rooms, a main hall, a separate courtyard, a study, a pavilion, and a lush backyard.

Dong Qianqian searched everywhere, but there were no signs of life. The courtyard was structurally sound but lacked furniture or curtains; it seemed no one had ever lived there. In the open space of the inner courtyard sat the furniture she had inadvertently pulled in earlier. She silently willed them to "put back," and sure enough, they vanished into thin air.

Dong Qianqian walked to a waterfall at the edge of the courtyard and cupped her hands to drink the rushing water. It tasted sweet, though she felt nothing miraculous at first. Moments later, her body began to heat up, and as she stepped into the river, a wondrous change occurred. Her formerly frail, flat, and petite sixteen-year-old body became graceful and well-proportioned, and her sallow skin turned as fair and translucent as jade.

Her face didn't change much, but the swelling subsided and the bruises faded. She still retained the innocent, pure look of a maiden, and her delicate features were nine-tenths identical to her own in her previous life. The only difference was a tiny tear mole at the corner of her eye—something she hadn't had before. It sat like a dewdrop on a petal, adding a touch of melancholic beauty to her expression.

Dong Qianqian prayed that this magical spring would cure her chronic illness, or at least alleviate her suffering. With that thought, she exited the space.

Back in the original owner's room, the wardrobe contained only the family's spare quilts, a pearl-collared dress kept for guests, a black cotton vest, a Fifth High School girl's uniform, and a pair of worn-out cotton shoes. There was nothing else—a stark contrast to the overflowing