Pain.
That was Lin Wei's first sensation. A gnawing, twisting pain in her stomach that felt like she had swallowed broken glass.
Did the lab explode? she thought, her mind groggy. Am I in the hospital?
She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt heavy as lead. The smell hit her next—not the sterile scent of antiseptic and ozone she was used to, but the smell of damp earth, mildew, and something rotting.
"Sister... please wake up."
The voice was small, raspy, and trembling. It sounded like a kitten mewling in the rain.
"Sister, don't die. I saved the water for you. Look."
Lin Wei forced her eyes open.
There were no white hospital walls. Above her was a thatched roof so sparse she could see the grey, overcast sky through the gaps. A cold wind whistled through the mud walls, biting into her skin. She was lying on a bed of dry straw covered by a thin, patchy quilt that smelled of sweat.
She turned her head. Kneeling beside the bed was a boy.
He looked about six years old, but his head was too large for his stick-thin neck. His eyes, enormous and sunken, stared at her with terrifying anxiety. His hands were covered in chilblains, red and swollen from the cold.
In his hands, he held a chipped ceramic bowl filled with murky, yellowish water.
"Drink, Sister," the boy whispered, pushing the bowl toward her cracked lips. "Mother said if you don't drink, you won't wake up."
Boom.
A headache split Lin Wei's skull. Memories that didn't belong to her flooded in like a tidal wave.
Yun Province. Bamboo Creek Village. The Lin Family.
Father, Lin Dazhuang—crippled leg, bedridden.
Mother, Zhao-shi—going blind from embroidery work.
Brother, Lin Xiayu—starving.
And herself... Lin Wei, fifteen years old, died of hunger in her sleep so her brother could have her ration.
She wasn't the agricultural scientist Dr. Lin anymore. She was a peasant girl in an ancient, drought-stricken dynasty.
Lin Wei looked at the boy—Xiayu. He was licking his dry lips, eyeing the water, but he refused to take a sip. He was offering his life to her.
A surge of protective rage, alien yet familiar, rose in her chest. This poverty... it's going to kill us all.
She tried to sit up, but her body was too weak. As she braced herself on the straw, a sudden, searing heat burned her left wrist.
It wasn't a normal burn. It felt like a branding iron.
"Ah!" she gasped, clutching her wrist.
"Sister?" Xiayu dropped the bowl. The water splashed onto the dirt floor. He looked horrified. "I... I spilled it! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He started frantically trying to scoop the mud up with his hands.
"Stop," Lin Wei rasped. Her voice was like sandpaper. She grabbed his small, freezing hand. "It's okay. Leave it."
She looked at her wrist. There, pulsing with a faint, rhythmical red light, was a birthmark in the shape of a lotus seed.
The Spatial Space.
In her previous life, she had been experimenting with dimensional storage for seeds. Had the explosion fused the technology with her soul?
She closed her eyes and focused on the burning sensation.
Open, she commanded in her mind.
The world tilted. The smell of mildew vanished.
Suddenly, the air was sweet.
Lin Wei opened her eyes. She wasn't on the straw bed anymore. She was standing on lush, vibrant green grass. Above her, a blue sky stretched endlessly, with a warm, gentle sun that didn't scorch.
In front of her lay a single acre of black, fertile soil—the kind farmers would kill for. To her left, a small spring bubbled up from white stones, the water crystal clear and emitting a faint white mist.
And beside the spring, sitting innocently on a wooden crate, was a bag of seeds she recognized from her lab: Hybrid High-Yield White Radish.
She fell to her knees, grabbing a handful of the black soil. It was moist and rich.
"One hour here is a month," she whispered, her scientific mind racing. "I can grow a harvest tonight while they sleep."
She looked at the crystal spring water. She cupped her hands and drank.
The water was ice-cold and sweet like nectar. As it slid down her throat, the gnawing pain in her stomach evaporated. Strength flooded her limbs. Her vision sharpened.
She wasn't just going to survive. She was going to be the richest woman this dynasty had ever seen.
"Sister!"
The boy's cry from the outside world yanked her back.
Lin Wei blinked. She was back in the cold, dark hut. The hunger pangs were gone, replaced by a warm energy in her belly.
Xiayu was crying, wiping the mud off the floor. "I wasted it... I wasted the water..."
Lin Wei sat up. This time, she didn't struggle. She moved with new strength. She reached out and pulled her little brother into a hug. He felt like a bag of bones.
"Don't cry, Little Bun," she said softly, her voice steady and strong.
She reached for the empty bowl. Under the cover of her ragged sleeve, she focused on the Space. A stream of the Spirit Spring Water flowed invisibly from the dimension, filling the bowl to the brim with crystal-clear liquid.
"Look," she said, holding it out to him. "It wasn't wasted. The gods refilled it."
Xiayu's eyes went wide. He looked at the water—it was cleaner than anything he had ever seen.
"Drink," Lin Wei ordered gently. "From today on, you will never be hungry again."