When Chi Wu saw that half of Cheng Ying's body was no longer on the ice, he knew he had to run, though he didn't even know what he was running for.

His heart was hammering so hard it felt like it was trying to leap out of his chest.

He didn't even know how he managed to run over there; he was moving purely mechanically.

Only when he saw Cheng Ying's head bobbing on the surface of the water did Chi Wu’s heart finally settle back into place.

"Struggle! Come on, struggle! Climb up a bit more, and I can grab your hand," Chi Wu urged. His mouth wouldn't stop moving as he spoke to Cheng Ying, though he had no idea what words were actually coming out. It was all because the ice surface was too high, Cheng Ying was weighed down by thick winter clothes, and the cold was intense—it was simply too much for a child like her to climb out on her own. Chi Wu was so focused on Cheng Ying that he noticed nothing else.

Cheng Ying's mind was sluggish from the cold. She felt like she couldn't pull herself up no matter how hard she tried.

She wondered if she could survive the entire winter inside her space, because if the ice didn't melt, she'd likely never get out. This was setting up to be a situation where she'd sink to the riverbed.

It was simply a choice between dying early or dying later: starving, suffocating, drowning, or freezing. Four options. Heaven was still being merciful to her; it was better than the previous life where she had no choice but to die of anger. Cheng Ying felt a sting of self-mockery.

"Chi Wu, just let go of me. Get away, just pretend you never saw me fall in." It was rare for Cheng Ying to have such a good-hearted thought;

if she had fallen in, she might not have died, but if Chi Wu were to fall in trying to save her, he certainly wouldn't come out unscathed. "What nonsense are you talking about? Get up here quickly!

I’m coming down to get you!" The boy was being foolish; if they both ended up in the water, neither would be able to climb back up. Cheng Ying looked at Chi Wu, contemplating letting go, intending to use her last shreds of consciousness to slip into her space once submerged. Just then, a large hand reached out and snatched Cheng Ying up. Cheng Ying's eyelashes were already frozen stiff. In a daze, she saw the face of her stepfather. And then, as Chi Wu yelled, "Dad," Cheng Ying passed out.

When Cheng Ying woke up again, she was lying on the warm kang in her own home. Her head felt heavy, her throat ached, and her entire body was sore. It was only natural; falling into the icy water in the dead of winter meant a couple of days of recuperation afterward.

Cheng Ying kept her eyes closed, trying to piece together how she had made it ashore. Even though her mind had been nearly frozen, she had caught a glimpse of her stepfather pulling her out of the water. Her stepfather was a decent person;

Cheng Ying had observed that the spot where she fell in was dangerous enough that even an adult would have to take a huge risk to pull someone out from there.

She owed him a huge favor—a life-debt. Cheng Ying stretched her arms slightly and let out a soft cough. The old woman beside her spoke, "Yingzi, you’re awake."

Cheng Ying noticed the old woman's voice was different from usual, considerably hoarser. Cheng Ying turned to look at her grandmother; she felt weak.

"Grandma, I’m fine. A good sleep will fix it." The old woman clutched her granddaughter’s arm.

"My good, sweet granddaughter! You’re finally okay. You scared this old woman half to death!" Cheng Ying blinked at her grandmother. Her eyes were starting to water. Having someone warm to look after her while she was sick—that was a taste of happiness. "Grandma, where’s Mom?" The old woman gently wiped Cheng Ying’s forehead. "She went up the mountain to find herbs. Yingzi, you've been out for two days; you nearly killed your grandma!"

Cheng Ying squeezed her grandmother’s hand. "It’s alright now, it was my fault for playing around.

Grandma, where is Chi Wu? We have to thank him." This acknowledgment was necessary; otherwise, the life-saver might suffer harsh treatment from the old woman. The old woman’s gaze dimmed compared to a moment before.

"Yingzi, Grandma understands." Her tone shifted as she said this, less cheerful than before. It was clear the old woman was conflicted; the person she resented happened to be her granddaughter’s savior. Cheng Ying had come to understand her grandmother over these past few days;

despite sharp words, she was fundamentally fair about debts owed and due. For the old woman to treat the man who had taken her son's place as her granddaughter’s savior—it was clearly against her will.

Cheng Ying didn't want to cause her grandmother trouble; repaying the favor herself was an option. She decided to let her grandmother have her way; as long as the old woman felt better emotionally, that was what mattered.

"Grandma, are there herbs on the mountain in winter? Ask Mom to come back. I’m fine. I just need to sweat it out in my sleep." The old woman waved a dismissive hand.

"Don't worry about it, Yingzi. Your mother will stop when she gets back. Drink some hot water quickly, and I’ll get you something to eat." Cheng Ying realized that was true; the mountain was vast, and finding someone was impossible now, with no mobile phones or pagers to summon them back instantly. She sipped the hot water, hoping to induce a sweat and break the fever. In this time and place, getting any secondary ailment from being sick would be too costly. The old woman was quick in the kitchen and soon returned with a bowl of soup flecked with oil. Cheng Ying held the bowl, feeling a surge of excitement.

This was the first time since arriving here that she had seen oil droplets in her food, and it wasn't just porridge. Cheng Ying brought the bowl to her lips and took a small, careful sip.

The taste was incredibly rich. The old woman watched her granddaughter. "Drink it while it’s hot, Yingzi. You need to sweat, or you might develop an ailment that lasts a lifetime." Cheng Ying fished out a small piece of dough with her chopsticks. Ah, it was made from corn flour, as expected. The way they lived—even a simple bowl of dough soup was made from corn.

It was disheartening. Still, it was infinitely better than plain porridge. After finishing the soup, Cheng Ying felt sweat prickling on her nose and a little strength returning to her limbs, though her throat remained dry. The old woman cleared the bowl away and quickly tucked her granddaughter deep under the covers, sealing her in completely to force a sweat. Since Cheng Ying woke up, the old woman hadn't asked a single question about how she fell into the river. Before drifting off to sleep again, Cheng Ying wondered what Chi Wu might have told them.

Perhaps because she seemed to be recovering, when Cheng Ying next woke up, no one was sitting by her side. Cheng Ying propped herself up against the window paper screen and looked outside toward the sun’s direction. It wasn’t too early or too late.

The rest of the family had likely gone out to work. Seizing the opportunity, Cheng Ying slipped into her space.

Cheng Ying stared at the space before her, momentarily stunned. The change was enormous.

The tiny puddle she had initially dealt with had now transformed into a pool of water. She knew where the water came from, but she hadn't dug such a large pit. It seemed the container could expand autonomously. Next to her lay a large stone engraved with two lines of text. The expanded pool stretched out from the stone, and there were actually two pools now. Cheng Ying muttered, "If I had known I could just fill it with water instead of digging, why did I waste so much effort?" The large stone remained silent, offering no response to her complaint. It was completely ignoring her. Cheng Ying looked into the pools. The water was crystal clear, bottom visible. By estimation, each pool was probably between one and a half to two meters deep. As for the size, she estimated the two pools combined covered about a hundred square meters. How many fish could be raised in this? Cheng Ying felt a genuine happiness—a blessing in disguise.

Speaking of fish, Cheng Ying did spot one swimming in the water. But it certainly wasn't the black carp she had foolishly introduced in a moment of greed. In the pool swam a brilliant, red carp, moving with leisure, its lines elegant and beautiful. Cheng Ying had been to flower and bird markets; a fish like this, in the current era, couldn't be bought for less than eight or nine thousand yuan. She didn't know much, but it was leagues beyond any common goldfish. This fish was truly valuable.

Cheng Ying thought about the wool situation. To transform a fish like this required incredible skill. But for a rural girl who had to walk over a hundred li just to reach the county seat every seven or eight years, she herself was worth less than this carp. No matter how beautiful the fish was, it wouldn't satisfy hunger. It wouldn't solve the basic need for food. In these times, who would spend eight thousand yuan on such a thing? Not even ten yuan. Cheng Ying stared darkly at the fish in the pool.

"How can I bring myself to kill you when you look like this? Besides, who knows if you’ll still be edible after mutating?" These were pragmatic concerns. Cheng Ying took two steps back from the pools, determined not to touch the water.

Who knew what she would turn into if she accidentally fell in and emerged? This was a serious issue. If black could turn red, what if she turned green? No one would believe she was human;

they’d think she was from the Tsarist nation. Cheng Ying felt her aesthetic sensibilities were completely misaligned with this pool. She was genuinely afraid she wouldn't be able to accept herself if she ended up as some grotesque hybrid.

She would be digging her own grave, constantly developing a headache every time she looked in the mirror, and inevitably cursing heaven every day. Cheng Ying considered the pace of societal development. This pool, for instance, probably wouldn't be truly useful for another decade, as the people's economic standards simply hadn't reached that level yet.

Spiritual life is always built upon material existence; that’s the superstructure. In an era where subsistence wasn't guaranteed, who had the leisure to fuss over things like this? Even if a tiny elite appreciated it and could afford to appreciate it, that was far outside the reach of someone in Cheng Ying's position.

It was, very much, a useless luxury. The more she looked, the more annoyed she became. Cheng Ying turned away, deciding to look at her cabbages and radishes instead.

Cheng Ying gazed at the cauliflower before her—truly magnificent—and the flowering radish plants were also quite nice. Even the sweet potato vines were elegantly elongated, looking quite stylish.

And the squash vines were even more beautiful, the flowers opening wider. Cheng Ying stared at the produce and felt something was very wrong. When she had planted these things, they had flowered inside the space overnight. The last time she woke up, her grandmother had told her she had been unconscious for two days. That meant at least two days had passed, so why were the radishes and cabbages still flowering? This defied common sense and the principles of plant growth.

There was no reason for the flowering period to last longer than the growth period. Even though she wasn't a graduate of an agricultural academy, she understood this basic knowledge. Cheng Ying’s heart began to tremble.

Cheng Ying walked closer to a flowering cabbage plant and knelt down, digging into the soil with both hands near the sweet potato vines. Beneath the massive sweet potato vine, she uncovered a sweet potato only about the size of a child's fist. It was smaller than the sweet potato she had originally buried. Cheng Ying’s heart felt utterly broken. What was the use of a "space harvest" if it lacked efficiency and yield? It was all utter nonsense. What was this? A tortoise being raised in a jar, only to shrink?