Chapter 2: The First Glimpse of the Space

After swallowing with great effort, Xiao Weiguo turned to the little girl and said, “Ahem, what kind of porridge is this? It’s scratching my throat.”

The little girl glanced nervously into the courtyard and spoke hurriedly, “Big brother, it’s cornmeal porridge. Please drink it quickly. I made the porridge and specially scooped out the thickest part from the bottom of the pot for you first. If Mom sees us, we’re done for. We’ll get scolded all night again, and maybe even beaten.”

“Since when does cornmeal porridge not scratch your throat? Maybe it tastes better if you leave the corn out of the cornmeal,” Xiao Weiguo muttered as he realized, “Wait, did you guys grind the corn cobs into the meal too? Is that even cornmeal anymore? My goodness.”

But seeing the anxious look in his sister’s eyes, Xiao Weiguo forced himself to gulp down the whole bowl of porridge in one go.

His mind resisted, but his body, desperate for nourishment, demanded it.

“Is there any more?” After finishing the bowl, Xiao Weiguo asked his sister hopefully.

“There isn’t any left. Everyone gets two sticks of pickled vegetables, but Mom has to divide those. We’ll have to see if she gives you your share at dinner,” his sister replied softly.

At that moment, a woman’s voice, booming and familiar from earlier in the day, echoed from the courtyard: “You wretched girl, where have you run off to? Bring the food, I’m starving!”

“Coming!” the little girl called out and hurriedly left Xiao Weiguo’s room.

After finishing the bowl of porridge, Xiao Weiguo felt much better, with enough energy to further examine his body. He was wearing a white undershirt and a pair of black shorts, both covered in patches. On the floor lay a pair of straw sandals caked with mud.

His arms and legs were as thin as sticks, veins bulging, ribs visible to the naked eye. His hair was damp with sweat, clinging in strands to his scalp.

Other transmigrators always seemed to have some kind of system, but what about him? Did he have a system or a wise old mentor? As he pondered, Xiao Weiguo began to explore his body.

Suddenly, he noticed a shallow rectangular mark on the back of his left hand. He brought his hand up to his face and examined it closely—it was exactly the same size as the jade pendant he had in his previous life. That must be the cause of all this.

“Open sesame, old master, system, mighty one,” Xiao Weiguo whispered to the mark.

He tried one incantation after another, but nothing happened.

In his impatience, Xiao Weiguo tapped his forehead with the back of his left hand.

At once, his consciousness was pulled into the rectangular mark. With a flash of white light, Xiao Weiguo found himself in a new space.

He saw beneath his feet a barren stretch of black soil, rectangular in shape, very much like the fertile land he’d seen during his travels in the northeast—about an acre in size.

The sky and the surroundings were shrouded in a misty white. Xiao Weiguo walked over to the edge, touched the mist, and found it as solid as a real wall. It seemed this was the extent of the space, though he wondered if it might expand in the future.

Looking into the distance, he spotted something in the middle of the land and hurriedly made his way over to investigate.

He found a rectangular altar, backed by a low wooden wall inscribed with unfamiliar characters. On the altar sat a round vessel, reminiscent of those used for burning incense or paper.

Could this be a sacrificial altar?

“I didn’t bring anything for burning incense or making offerings. This feels a bit disrespectful. Still, with the space farm of an acre, I should be able to live well in this era. No, I must show my respect!”

Muttering to himself, Xiao Weiguo knelt before the altar and knocked his forehead to the ground three times in quick succession. As he looked up, he saw the wooden wall behind the altar begin to glow.

Suddenly, the light from the wall shot straight into his forehead, and Xiao Weiguo instantly lost consciousness, collapsing beside the altar.

He had no idea how long he remained unconscious before he finally awoke. Rubbing his head, he slowly got up and gazed at the altar in shock.

The white light, it turned out, was the space recognizing its new master. Xiao Weiguo now understood everything about the origin of this space: it had belonged to an immortal who, fond of good food, had created this realm to cultivate various plants and livestock, using the bounty to craft delicious dishes for his own enjoyment. But as the world’s spiritual energy faded, the immortal had long since passed away, leaving behind this space, waiting for a fated heir.

The space was currently at its smallest, but with further infusions of spiritual energy, it would continue to grow. Many treasures still lay hidden within the white mist—spiritual springs, sacred mountains, and more.

But whether there was still spiritual energy in this world, and how to find it, would require further exploration.

From now on, a single thought would allow him to enter or leave the space, and he could choose to enter bodily or merely send his consciousness.

Beyond learning the space’s origin and becoming its master, Xiao Weiguo gained the greatest benefit of all: during the recognition process, the lingering soul of the original Xiao Weiguo was integrated with his own, granting him access to all of the original’s memories and emotions.

“Brother, rest in peace. I will live well in this world for you. You needn’t worry about those you left behind—I will take care of them,” Xiao Weiguo murmured to the void.

He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious; this time, his body had entered the space, and he wondered how his absence had affected those outside.

With a thought, Xiao Weiguo returned to the earthen brick kang in his room. The door remained just as it had been—no one had come in while he was gone.

He propped himself up, set his straw pillow (with two holes in it) upright against the wall, and leaned back slowly.

“Hm?” Xiao Weiguo let out a sound of surprise, for he realized that after leaving the space, his fever was gone.

His body was still weak, but with some rest, he would recover.

This must have been an extra benefit from the recognition ceremony. From the bottom of his heart, Xiao Weiguo thanked the immortal and the space.

Night was falling.

Just then, a figure entered the room. The man wore a gray sleeveless undershirt with a thick patch on the shoulder. He had a square face—the visage of a middle-aged man.

He placed a kerosene lamp on the table, drew a pipe from his belt, and sat on the stool. In a deep voice, he said, “Weiguo, your second sister said you could eat today. Is your illness improving? If there’s anything you want to eat, tell me and I’ll have your mother make it.”

This was Xiao Weiguo’s father, Xiao Pingle, a man of few words—a diligent, ox-like farmer.

Before Xiao Weiguo could reply, the wooden door was suddenly flung open by a middle-aged woman…