Zhou Qian had said all of this, but Huai Yu knew none of it.
Her memories only dated back to the national census on March 8th. She had no knowledge of the slow shifts in understanding that had seeped into people's minds over the past six years of catastrophe.
She did, however, possess some knowledge of how normal life worked—just enough to keep herself from seeming like a total fool.
Huai Yu gently patted the top of her own head, full of sympathy.
Her brain, truly, wasn't half bad!
By now, the city was probably filled with complaints and curses, but here, in the silent and invisibly terrifying Rose Corridor, there was nothing.
She could only stare blankly into the pitch-black curtain of rain.
The Rose Corridor, once only a bit temperamental but mostly well-behaved, now clawed and lashed out wildly in the storm. And Sanqing Mountain, invisible in the dead of night, seemed to be seething with a deeper horror than ever before.
Just moments ago, she had said the mountain was her home.
But now—with one rainfall—was her home… gone?
Even the once-cute and docile Rose Corridor had gone mad. The wild vegetables and mushrooms she hadn't even had the chance to taste—could she still eat them now?
Most likely not.
She looked over at the soybeans she had been planning to cook, and her whole face fell.
( p′︵‵.)
If only she had known… she could've saved those beans for seeds, used the rest to buy nutrient fluid and stockpile it—enough to last a month or two!
Once the rain stopped, she could've carefully planted the seeds, then used her ability to nurture them. A month, two months… she'd get something out of it eventually, right?
But now the beans were soaked through.
There was no way she could plant them out in this downpour.
After hesitating for a long while, Huai Yu finally gave in with a sigh of surrender.
Forget it! Things are already this bad—if I can't plant them, then I might as well eat them!
Worst case, she'd go collect more soybeans later. There were still stalls selling seedlings. She clearly remembered those chili plants going for ten points apiece!
She scooped up a handful of beans and tossed them directly into the pot.
Then, after a moment's thought, she dipped her hand back into the water and forced out the last shreds of her recently recovered ability…
Wisps of a mysterious energy slowly poured from her palm into the water.
Huai Yu watched in wide-eyed amazement as the murky liquid gradually turned clear and bright.
There were still a few floating impurities, but something about it just felt cleaner.
She turned to glance at the nearby barrel of water she had set aside for drinking…
And immediately her face collapsed again.
After purifying a whole barrel of water, Huai Yu sat slumped in exhaustion, her arms trembling from even the slightest movement.
Gasping for air, she rested a while, then angrily tossed in more firewood, propped the pot up again, and got back to work.
The flames leapt up at once. Smoke still hung in the air, so the door remained open, letting the damp chill from outside creep in and make everything feel clammy and miserable.
She adjusted her position, waiting for the pot to heat up.
The soybeans, soaked for barely half an hour, were only slightly softened on the outside—still rock-hard inside.
But that was fine.
She dug through her memory and stirred the beans with a wooden spatula. Once the high heat had boiled away most of the moisture, she drew out the firewood and let the pot simmer on a gentle flame.
The slow roasting and constant stirring became her only distraction in this long, restless night.
As the rich, nutty aroma began to rise from the pot, all her lingering resentment and bone-deep fatigue seemed to vanish into thin air.
She perked up, eyes gleaming, fixated on the bubbling pot.
The occasional pop! of a cracking soybean was like the sweetest music she'd ever heard.
As the beans split slightly, golden-brown flecks peeked out.
Huai Yu stirred them while trying not to drool all over herself.
She closed her eyes, basking in the scent, thinking she had never craved anything so badly.
When she opened them again, the flickering firelight cast long shadows, and there, at the edge of the flames, was a small, wet creature…
Staring at her with beady black eyes.
Eh?
Huai Yu's eyes widened.
That tiny, soaked ball of fluff—it looked like that same field mouse who'd once sponsored her!
Maybe it was the rain, but its fur was now a different color—reddish brown, or maybe orange.
It sat curled up, pitifully watching her, as if clinging to the warmth of the fire… or maybe just lured by the smell of roasted beans.
Huai Yu: …
She suddenly remembered the peanuts and yam beans, and the two huge bowls of mung beans she had traded from the Defense Force. A small pang of guilt poked at her.
Then she smiled, extra sweetly.
"Little Tian, sure, you sponsored me a bit—but I shared 600 acres of land with you, didn't I?"
"Field mice should really learn to be content."
The newly named Little Tian squeaked indignantly and shuffled closer to the fire, eyes locked onto her with even more pitiful persistence.
Huai Yu stayed firm.
"Six hundred acres, you know…"
"Squeak squeak!"
"No other mouse has ever achieved what you have!"
"Squeak squeak squeak!"
"Greedy little mice get eaten by owls, you know."
"Squeak squeak squeak squeak!"
"…Fine, fine. It's raining cats and dogs outside—I'll be merciful and let you warm up here. But only for a while!"
"Squeak…"
"You're so greedy… Ugh, alright. Here—three beans. No more than that."
"Squeak squeak…"
"Three! Just three! Not one more! I'm about to salt them!"
Huai Yu carefully picked out three beans with her spatula, blew on them, and dropped them into her palm.
The soybeans were perfectly roasted. Their cracked shells had curled back, revealing golden centers, speckled with crisp char marks. The sound they made tumbling in the pot was addictive.
She placed them near the fire pit.
The field mouse squeaked excitedly, darting forward.
It was only then that Huai Yu noticed—the mouse's wet fur had dried out quite a bit.
Now, warmed by the fire and bargaining success, its coat gleamed a rich orange-red, edged with a glowing, golden shimmer.
It's… kinda cute.
For a brief second, Huai Yu felt the urge to pet it.
But then she remembered just how few beans she actually had.
She puffed her cheeks and stared at the little mouse munching away.
Then, with care, she sprinkled some salt over the remaining beans.
The salt melted instantly, seeping into the crisp shells.
She gave the beans a final toss in the pan, watching the darkened edges turn perfectly golden.
She took a deep breath and raised the spatula with pride.
"Wow! I'm basically God of Cookery Junior! My masterpiece—Crispy Salt-Roasted Soybeans!!!"
The next second, a soft chuckle came from the darkness beyond the door.
Huai Yu froze.
Her expression turned sharp and alert in an instant, eyes snapping toward the entrance.
Cold wind still blew through the open door.
It was pitch black—nothing in sight.
But in that moment, what surged in her chest wasn't curiosity.
It was a chilling wave of dread.