"What's wrong with scolding them? You lot, come here! Follow me home!" She couldn't understand why these cheap sons of hers were so ungrateful. She never beat or scolded them, gave them food and drink, yet they still kept running off.
The children hung their heads and followed.
Wen's Mother wanted to keep berating them but was dragged back by her husband. Watching the kids, Wen Yan was about to speak when Fang Zhiyi reminded her, "They made their own choices."
Wen Yan simply let out a long sigh.
"Little white-eyed wolves, what are you running around for, huh?" Sun Yuwei grumbled. "Once we get back, harvest all the vegetables! Hear me?"
She hardly did any work herself—after all, with the spiritual spring keeping her so well-maintained, why bother? These boys had nothing better to do anyway; might as well put them to work. She had already planned to sell these vegetables under the guise of "immortal produce"—they were watered with spiritual spring water! But the thought of the spring made her heart sink. Why couldn’t she access her space anymore?
Fang Zhiyi trailed far behind her, noticing something amiss. Sun Yuwei’s bracelet no longer emitted its usual blue glow but instead seeped with dark mist. Recalling how she had poured the spiritual spring water onto the vegetable patch, he wondered—had overuse damaged the space?
He followed her as far as Pear Blossom Village but went no further. Sun Yuwei was already in such a state; if his presence, carrying the weight of "truth," made things worse for her, it wouldn’t be good. What if lightning struck him for it?
The sky above was thick with dark clouds.
Fang Zhiyi decided to head home. Wen Yan had grown somewhat accustomed to her system wandering off. After all, he wasn’t much help anyway—everything still depended on her.
Wen Yan’s mindset was remarkably steady now. In ancient times, parents supporting a daughter’s inventions was a rare thing. Having absorbed much of Fang Zhiyi’s knowledge about this era, she knew to be content—especially when comparing herself to that fellow transmigrator, who kept getting caught and now had a terrible reputation. Wen Yan almost felt grateful for her system.
Sun Yuwei ordered the children to harvest the vegetables before the rain came, planning to sell them at the market. There, she crossed paths with Wen Yan again. The look of pity in Wen Yan’s eyes irked her. Glancing down at her own delicate skin and beautiful dress, then at Wen Yan’s plain cloth garments and sun-darkened, slender frame, Sun Yuwei snorted.
"Why is she like that?" Wen Yan asked.
Fang Zhiyi replied, "People are like this. When things don’t go as expected, especially after starting from a high point, their mindset warps. Truly balanced individuals? Maybe one in ten thousand."
Wen Yan half-understood. "Hey… do you have any whitening remedies?"
"Nope." Fang Zhiyi chuckled. "What’s on your mind now?"
"Sigh. Look how dark and thin I am, and then look at her." Wen Yan stared at her hands, feeling a pang of melancholy. At least mirrors weren’t common in ancient times—only wealthy households had bronze mirrors. If she had to see her reflection daily, she’d probably die of frustration.
Fang Zhiyi studied her. "Dark skin? Healthy. Looks good to me."
Today, Wen Yan was selling herb sachets she’d made from gathered medicinal plants. She’d initially wanted to wrap them in cloth but realized fabric was too precious here, so she settled for tying dried herbs into bundles with straw rope.
Some already recognized her, greeting her from afar.
"Wen family’s girl, what are you selling today?"
Wen Yan grinned. "Mosquito-repelling sachets."
From a distance, Sun Yuwei watched the crowd gather around Wen Yan’s stall, her expression growing uglier by the minute.
Fortunately, someone approached her vegetables too.
"How much per pound?"
"Per pound? These vegetables were fertilized with—" Remembering her time in jail, she caught herself. "—premium fertilizer! Sold by the bunch, not by weight!"
Sun Yuwei wasn’t stupid. She plucked a leaf and handed it over. "Try it. Absolutely divine!" She was certain anyone who tasted the spiritual spring-fed greens would buy.
But the moment the person took a bite, they spat it out in disgust. "What is this? It’s bitter!"
"Bitter? Impossible!" Sun Yuwei’s eyes widened. Just last night, she’d made soup with these—how could they be bitter?
The argument drew a crowd. Some recognized Sun Yuwei, whispering and pointing, while others boldly plucked leaves to taste.
"Ugh! So bitter!"
"These vegetables must be poisoned!"
Sun Yuwei stood frozen.
Fang Zhiyi was equally stunned. He’d expected the spiritual spring veggies to grant a radiant glow, but then it hit him. "Oh crap. Not my fault. Not my fault."
"These crops are bewitched!" someone in the crowd shouted—likely a fellow villager.
Panic erupted. Common folk feared supernatural forces, and in the chaos, the vegetable cart was overturned. Sun Yuwei tried to stop it but was powerless. When she heard the bailiffs approaching, she instinctively fled.
Then Fang Zhiyi noticed it—a tentacle slithering out from her bracelet.
"Little Hei!" Realization struck. So Little Hei’s target was that space?
A grotesque scene unfolded: Sun Yuwei sprinting ahead, her bracelet oozing a viscous substance until the distorted figure floated fully into the sky.
It locked eyes with Fang Zhiyi from afar.
"How does ‘truth’ feel?"
Fang Zhiyi scoffed. "Cut the crap. You just wanted to devour that space, didn’t you?"
"That space nurtured a new world. I thought you’d need more time, but this woman couldn’t resist draining the spiritual spring dry—halting that world’s growth."
"Can I go back now?" Fang Zhiyi asked eagerly.
Little Hei paused. "Let me… burp… digest first."
That digestion took years.
Wen Yan rapped her husband’s hand with chopsticks. "How many times must I say it? Wash your hands!"
Fang Zhiyi scratched his head sheepishly and went to clean up.
The two had ended up together after all. Wen Yan found him surprisingly decent—mainly because he’d just laugh when she lost her temper, then coax her back into good humor. Hardworking too, so she’d taken the plunge and married him.
He’d even agreed to live with her family to care for her aging parents.
Sun Yuwei’s land had turned barren. The spiritual spring’s potency had sucked the soil dry, rendering the fields useless. With her space gone, she’d collapsed under the blow, abandoning the children. Fang Zhiyi told Wen Yan, who, after discussing with her family, took the boys back in. They had no interest in studies but thrived as farmhands.
Sun Yuwei resurfaced in the capital, surviving on her spiritual spring-maintained looks.
Her method was novel: seated behind a red-curtained stage, she interacted with the audience. Whoever threw the most coins got a song from her.
She had also brought live streaming back to ancient times.
By the time Wen Yan grew old and had grandchildren of her own, she would sit in the rocking chair her husband had made for her and tell her grandchildren about the fields—what selective sowing meant, how composting worked. A sense of contentment filled her. Though she had never achieved great wealth in her lifetime, she had managed to live comfortably with modest savings. The system was gone now, but she sometimes caught herself murmuring a few words to the empty space where it used to be.
So, it turned out that even after traveling back to ancient times, one could survive by relying on their own hands.
After her death, a female college student suddenly jolted awake in bed.
Her roommate was knocking on the door: "Yan Yan, get up! We’ll be late for the interview!" They had scheduled an interview with a trading company that day.
Images flashed through Wen Yan’s mind. After a moment, she said, "You go ahead. I won’t be joining. I want to go home."
At almost the same time, a woman woke up in a hospital bed. The doctor beside her let out a sigh of relief. "Luckily, your neighbor noticed something was wrong. Any later, and you wouldn’t have made it."
The woman’s eyes widened. After a long pause, tears streamed down her cheeks.