Chi Wu had always known that Cheng Ying was different from everyone else, known it for a very long time. Cheng Ying could conjure things out of thin air.

At first, Chi Wu thought Cheng Ying was just hiding things, because he could never find where she kept them. As Chi Wu grew older, he began to suspect it wasn't about hiding things; those items seemed to exist quite naturally around her.

Furthermore, in Chi Wu’s view, whatever happened to Yingzi was simply to be expected, after all, he was a ten-year-old boy raised entirely by her.

To Chi Wu’s perception, his life after ten was spent growing up alongside Cheng Ying.

It wasn't until the workshop caught fire, and Cheng Ying dumped a bucket of water over his head, that Chi Wu, lying in the hospital bed, finally had time to ponder these strange matters. After all, no matter how magical Yingzi was, she couldn't carry a bucket of water around with her everywhere.

He knew that the workers had been fighting the blaze relentlessly before he was brought in; every drop of usable water in that facility must have been used up by then. How could there possibly be exactly one bucket of water left precisely for Cheng Ying?

What’s more, Chi Wu had paid close attention at the time: the bucket Cheng Ying was carrying was the very iron bucket they used back in the village. That object was too distinctive. Chi Wu and Cheng Ying had hauled water with that same bucket for two years in the village. When had Cheng Ying brought it to the city, and how could she produce it now? No matter how he tried to reassure himself, he couldn't explain it.

It was like the apprehension one feels nearing one's hometown; Chi Wu suddenly became afraid to ask Cheng Ying about it, genuinely terrified of hearing something he couldn't possibly accept.

Later, when his leg developed a scar, Cheng Ying completely disregarded the doctor’s advice and insisted on getting his wound wet every day. Chi Wu knew Yingzi cared for him—would someone who didn't care rush into a fire to save him? But Cheng Ying’s blatant violation of medical orders seemed utterly abnormal to him.

Following Cheng Ying’s determined actions, Chi Wu noticed, without quite realizing it, that the scar on his leg had healed significantly better.

Chi Wu’s heart raced in response. When they got home, he gripped Cheng Ying’s hand and held on for a long time, deliberately lingering over her palm several times.

Cheng Ying glared at him. Chi Wu knew she thought he was taking advantage,

but he was merely confirming his suspicions. Cheng Ying had worked in the mountains since childhood. Chi Wu had seen the hands of laborers; even classmates who came from rural backgrounds and had been at school for years still had calluses as hard as rock on their palms—those marks were incredibly difficult to erase.

Chi Wu had compared his own hands with others, claiming he’d done farm work for years in the village, but no one believed him; his hands didn't look the part.

Chi Wu felt that certain things could now be understood. After working in the mountains, Cheng Ying always prepared a basin of water for him to soak his hands. Even when convenience was lacking, she would fetch a damp cloth and let him wipe his hands for an extended time.

Perhaps it was from that point onward that they rarely suffered from blisters when working.

Moreover, it seemed that from then on, Chi Wu’s hands never developed calluses again, not even the small one between his index and middle fingers from gripping a pen for long periods. Subconsciously, Chi Wu stopped comparing hands with his classmates.

Thinking about his old grandmother’s face, and then Yang Zhi’s face, Chi Wu felt they were somehow connected to that water. The old woman was nearly seventy, yet she looked barely in her forties or fifties. If not for her genuine frailty, she might have appeared even younger.

And Yang Zhi, despite her age, always seemed younger than Chi Yong. Many people commented on how well Yang Zhi maintained herself.

It was then that Chi Wu understood: it wasn't that Yang Zhi maintained herself well; it was that Cheng Ying possessed this water.

Chi Wu was troubled at that moment. He didn't care what Cheng Ying had, but why she had it—that was what made him anxious.

Would Yingzi one day just vanish like in the movies? He still didn't dare to ask. He was truly afraid that asking the question would make his wife simply fly away. Weren't many myths things that couldn't be spoken aloud? For Chi Wu, living this life felt like exquisite torture.

It wasn't until the old woman passed away, and Cheng Ying, right there in front of him, made that chicken and those few fish disappear, that Chi Wu, amidst his astonishment, felt an even greater wave of fear. Did Yingzi feel that with the old woman gone, there was nothing left to hold her here, and that she intended to leave too? Was that why she was so protective of him discovering these secrets?

Chi Wu subconsciously avoided the topic, even more reluctant to confirm these things with Cheng Ying. Sometimes Chi Wu wondered if he held so little weight in Cheng Ying’s heart that he didn’t even count as a child, prompting him to ask. When holding their child, he sometimes felt like the Cowherd in the legend.

During that time, Chi Wu became obsessed with watching the stars, focusing only on the Altair and Vega constellation—the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl.

It wasn’t until Yingzi brought him into the Space that his debilitating fear of loss finally began to truly recede. Chi Wu realized how cowardly he had been recently, not daring to question Cheng Ying himself.

But Chi Wu was inherently timid, especially when it came to matters concerning Cheng Ying. He even felt it would be better if his wife were a yao jing (spirit/demon) than an immortal. Of course, Chi Wu didn't truly believe in such things.

He had pored over countless materials, even trying to explain various myths and supernatural abilities through scientific means. Most things, Chi Wu felt, could be resolved with science.

So, whether to believe in the divine or not, Chi Wu constantly wavered.

Well, seeing the Space now, Chi Wu was still perplexed. He just felt it might be an unexplainable, strange phenomenon, yet it existed right beside him.

Most importantly, Chi Wu had confirmed that this thing could vanish, but his wife would not. Chi Wu finally felt truly at ease.

He even felt he could appreciate this thing alongside Cheng Ying.

Of course, it would be even better if he could verify exactly what this thing was.

Chi Wu felt that whether this thing existed in their household or not made little difference, and more importantly, he didn't want Yingzi to become overly reliant on it. Unknown things always carried a degree of danger for Chi Wu.

Thus, Chi Wu subtly steered Cheng Ying’s understanding of the Space further astray, framing it as merely a toy.

It was a warehouse that could store items, or perhaps memories.

Unconsciously, Chi Wu had allowed Cheng Ying’s perception of her Space to atrophy, much like how a legitimate principal wife in domestic dramas might nurture a concubine’s lesser son—how could he guide it toward true potential?

This was also largely thanks to Cheng Ying never truly prioritizing the Space. Those who have struggled to survive in the real world can hardly accept something akin to eternal, god-like existence.

Chi Wu had even read novels about such things; they offered every possible explanation, but who knew when this thing might simply vanish?

Neither Chi Wu nor Cheng Ying let their child know about these matters. Allowing the child to develop laziness and dependency would be a failure on their part as parents.

The Space, within the Chi family and within Cheng Ying, had its influence contained.

Chi Wu’s life was happy: wife, children, and the presence of the elders. But the cycle of birth, aging, sickness, and death was something that life demanded be experienced one by one.

However, Chi Wu believed that as long as Cheng Ying was by his side, he was happy. Looking back, Cheng Ying had always treated Chi Wu well, but the best period, Chi Wu felt, was when their children were teenagers.

It was as if, overnight, Cheng Ying’s attitude toward him, and toward the children, had shifted. Chi Wu felt that if he had believed in God, he would have been living in paradise.

Cheng Ying finally prioritized him, her husband; she finally knew jealousy; she finally chased after him constantly. Chi Wu sometimes woke up smiling from his dreams.

But he truly didn't know why his wife’s change was so sudden.

As long as it brought happiness and made his wife care for him, Chi Wu didn't mind the reason for Yingzi's transformation.

And he didn't mind his woman keeping such a close watch on him; Chi Wu considered it cherishing happiness.

Of course, Chi Wu held a little pride in his heart as well.

Furthermore, Chi Wu noticed that Cheng Ying preferred his more mature appearance, even dressing him in styles that leaned toward maturity. Chi Wu sometimes admired his own reflection, satisfied that at least his wife liked it.

As for Cheng Ying herself, Chi Wu felt his wife rarely entered the Space anymore, and seldom used the water from it.

Chi Wu sometimes joked with his wife, "Why don't you put more on your face? Maybe when our daughter grows up, people will say I have two daughters."

Cheng Ying would earnestly reply, "It’s quite wonderful to grow old alongside you; that's a kind of happiness. We should use that stuff sparingly. It would be tiresome if we turned into ancient sprites, wouldn't it?"

Chi Wu pursed his lips, "My wife has such high standards."

Cheng Ying countered, "At least I follow the mainstream; being able to die naturally, just like most people, is a great stroke of luck."

Chi Wu would hold his wife and laugh for a while, "If Qin Shi Huang had your perspective, there wouldn't be so many legends about him."

The fact that they could treat the power in their hands so calmly was because both Chi Wu and Cheng Ying understood that their life didn't need the convenience the Space offered. It was related to their own strength.

Chi Wu only felt comfortable joking like this because he knew Yingzi didn't place high importance on the Space. If Yingzi were dependent on it, Chi Wu would have cried himself sick. How wonderful is a normal life?

Chi Wu only hoped that Yingzi wouldn't wake up one morning and revert to how she was before. For a wife to cherish her husband so deeply forever—that was the happiness of a man’s lifetime.

Chi Wu felt he needed to work harder, to strive more to make his wife and children happy. At the very least, he needed to make Yingzi understand that he, Chi Wu, was more useful than that Space, and could bring Yingzi more than the Space could. Winning his wife’s affection wasn't said; it was done. Chi Wu knew his rivals weren't just the handsome men outside; Cheng Ying’s Space was also a contender.

For so many years, Chi Wu constantly reminded himself: if Yingzi ever spent too much time in the Space, it must mean that her life at home was unhappy.

Chi Wu used this as his measure for how Cheng Ying weighed him, the Space, and their children.