Chu River opened her eyes in the quiet, finding herself in a cramped rental apartment.
The rental was truly cramped; only when her spiritual power silently spread did she realize this tiny room, equipped with all necessities, was less than 20 square meters in total.
The bed beneath her hips was messy, the faded sheets bore faint yellow stains, the table was stacked with instant noodle containers and delivery boxes, and the floor was littered with disposable chopsticks and food scraps...
She raised her hand, and the sheet under her palm was littered with crumbs of potato chips.
Chu River looked around— the small window was covered with a curtain haphazardly strung with an iron wire, less neat than the work of a spider in the corner.
The walls were gray and yellowed, stained with some unknown filth.
The surface finish of the dining table in the corner was peeling upwards.
A storage box was piled with a jumble of clothes, clearly all men's.
Chu River: ...
