Chapter 58

After breakfast, Zhenzhen carried her schoolbag and went to school. Since the spring of last year, all schools had resumed classes, and the completely unruly Zhenzhen was immediately dragged back to school by Grandma Li. She even specifically instructed the teacher to keep a close eye on her and never let her skip class.

Zhenzhen’s teacher found Grandma Li’s request rather baffling—wasn’t Li Mingzhen such a well-behaved student? Ever since she started school, she had always scored a perfect hundred on her exams. Although advancing in grade no longer required tests, as a teacher, she was still very clear about her students’ academic performance.

Zhenzhen’s homeroom teacher, Teacher Li, adored her. With her fair, delicate face, she was not only good-looking but also excelled in her studies and was well-mannered. The teacher wished all the students in the class could be like Zhenzhen.

However, Grandma Li, who knew Zhenzhen’s temperament all too well, was somewhat worried. But she couldn’t expose her granddaughter’s true nature in front of others, so she could only repeatedly remind the teacher to inform her immediately if Zhenzhen ever skipped class.

Zhenzhen trudged into the classroom, looking dejected and listless, following behind her teacher. Nowadays, teachers no longer took roll calls in class—there were only a handful of students, so one glance was enough to tell who was present and who was absent.

After listening to the lecture for just a few minutes, Zhenzhen already felt restless. To suppress the urge to skip school, she pulled out a hefty book from her schoolbag and started reading. This was homework assigned by Mister Wangwo. After finishing this book, she still had to seek him out for discussion and exchange ideas.

Over the past two years, a few more renowned scholars and two highly respected traditional Chinese medicine doctors had moved into the western-style houses in the mountains. Although their living space was a bit cramped, they were visibly in much better spirits than before. The scholars who arrived later had read letters from Mister Wangwo and others before leaving their homes, so they were well-prepared—each bringing along their lifelong savings and treasured possessions.

Aside from entrusting Zhenzhen to buy some food for them from time to time, the people in the western-style houses mostly grew their own food and even raised over a dozen chickens, achieving near self-sufficiency.

In these turbulent times, there were too many people in need of rescue, and Zhenzhen couldn’t possibly save them all. For one, there wasn’t enough space, and for another, too many disappearances would inevitably arouse suspicion. When Mister Wangwo and the others left their homes, they had all left behind farewell letters, and afterward, Zhenzhen even scattered their bloodstained, letter-filled clothes near various wild lakes in the imperial capital, creating the illusion of suicide to prevent investigations.

She could only save a handful of people and bring them to the western-style houses, but she couldn’t just stand by and watch innocent people suffer. She always believed that the greater her ability, the greater her responsibility. She hoped to help more people as long as it was safe.

So, Zhenzhen often spread her consciousness across different regions. Whenever she encountered instances of beatings or humiliation, she would freely use her abilities—sometimes causing a rat infestation, sometimes summoning a flock of vicious birds. If the location was close to the mountains, she would summon snakes to entangle the perpetrators. However, for large-scale movements, animal interference alone was not enough, so she would create small, precise earthquakes and cracks in the ground, scaring them into fleeing in terror.

But that alone wasn’t enough. Eventually, the guards began noticing that the loot they had seized would mysteriously disappear, that they would be inexplicably hit on the head by falling tree branches while walking, and that some even heard voices whispering in their ears as they slept—slowly, fear started creeping in.

One of the most vicious abusers had just reclaimed a bloodstained belt when, in a bizarre turn of events, he tripped and fell, smashing his head open, bleeding profusely—he nearly didn’t make it through.

And that wasn’t even the strangest part. Rumor had it that a battle squad had been spying over a courtyard wall, watching an elderly couple bury a box in the ground. But when they broke down the door and rushed in, the pit had just been filled, yet the buried box had vanished. The squad, unwilling to accept defeat, dug more than a meter deep but found nothing—not even a splinter of wood.

What they didn’t know was that after they left, the elderly couple closed the gate, stuck a shovel into the pit, and with a clang, hit the wooden box. As they cleared away the dirt, they saw that the box was merely a centimeter away from the original pit bottom.

Some guards, after confiscating books and documents, piled them up and set them ablaze, only to return home and find their own firewood stacks inexplicably catching fire. No matter how they tried to put it out, the flames refused to be extinguished, and they could only watch helplessly as everything burned to ashes.

The most terrifying part? Anyone who had committed such atrocities found that no matter what they planted at home, they reaped nothing—crops that were already bearing fruit or grain either rotted overnight or withered into shriveled husks. Meanwhile, those who merely posted slogans and chanted propaganda suffered no such misfortunes.

Once could be a coincidence. Twice, an accident. But when these incidents happened repeatedly—always right after they had beaten someone or set a fire—it was impossible to ignore. Some began to wonder if the vengeful spirits of those they had killed were coming back for retribution.

As the occurrences piled up, even the higher-ups took notice and sent investigators. But every incident seemed purely accidental—there were no traces of human interference. In the end, the authorities merely reprimanded the guards, warning them not to spread superstitious rumors. Those who spoke too much nonsense were even publicly criticized with large-character posters.

Since these events couldn’t be explained by science, nor could they be dismissed as mere superstition, the guards had no choice but to restrain themselves. They no longer dared to beat people so casually. The items they confiscated weren’t burned or smashed anymore; instead, they were loaded onto carts and sent to the waste collection stations—allowing Zhenzhen to seize the opportunity to collect a good number of valuable items.

Frightened by Zhenzhen’s ghostly tricks, the situation outside improved day by day, and even the behavior of the guards became more civilized. Taking advantage of the weekend when she delivered the weekly newspaper, Zhenzhen relayed the news of the outside world to them. Over the years, those around her, including Wangwo, had interacted with Zhenzhen and found that she was not only exceptionally intelligent but also had an extraordinary ability to learn. She read a vast number of newspapers every day, and when discussing current affairs, she spoke fluently and analyzed issues with remarkable precision, hitting key points directly. As a result, no one regarded her as just a child.

Handing the newspaper to them, Zhenzhen asked, “Now that the outside world has become much more peaceful, do you teachers wish to leave this place and return to society?”

The group exchanged glances before shaking their heads. Wangwo sighed bitterly, “Even if we’re no longer beaten, we would still be labeled with all sorts of crimes. Why give up a good life here just to suffer outside?”

Zhenzhen smiled at him. “It’s fine if others don’t leave, but you, Teacher, must.” Wangwo was startled, his face turning slightly pale.

Seeing his reaction, Zhenzhen didn’t dare tease him any further and quickly explained, “I heard people in the streets saying that you’ve been nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature. Right now, the Swedish ambassador is searching for you everywhere. If you don’t leave soon, our nation will lose its first-ever Nobel Prize in Literature in history.”

Upon hearing this, the others immediately stood up and congratulated Wangwo. However, Wangwo hesitated and said, “I’m afraid I’ll be locked up before I even get to meet the Swedish ambassador.”

After a moment of thought, Zhenzhen suggested, “Why don’t you write a letter for me to deliver to the ambassador? Let him handle the necessary procedures before we leave here. Once you receive the award in Sweden, you can stay there for a few years. When things settle down here, you can come back.”

Wangwo nodded. “That seems like the only way. I just hope I can return soon after receiving the award. I’m already in my seventies or eighties—if I stay in Sweden too long, who knows if I’ll ever make it back to my homeland?”

Wangwo had suffered from old ailments in the past, but under the care of the legendary physician Jing Dongning, combined with the peaceful life here, he not only stopped worrying about the outside world but also maintained a regular routine with proper meals. Besides reading and writing daily, he followed Jing Dongning in practicing the Five Animal Exercises. After two years of this, his health had improved significantly, and he had even gained ten pounds.

Playfully patting Wangwo’s slightly rounded belly, Zhenzhen grinned and said, “With your physique, another ten years won’t be a problem.”

Everyone chuckled, but Wangwo soon frowned. “I’ve been completely off the radar for years, and now I’m suddenly reappearing. I fear someone might investigate where I’ve been hiding. If they find this place, won’t I become a liability? It’s better if I go to Jibei for a few days and create the illusion that I’ve been hiding there all this time.” He turned to Zhenzhen, “I’ll need your family’s help to find me a cover.”

Zhenzhen nodded and stood up. “I’ll go discuss it with my father.”

Since the mountain stream and Jibei were in opposite directions, Zhenzhen used teleportation to reach a remote area on the border of Jibei, where she found an abandoned house in an uninhabited area spanning dozens of miles. She covered the roof with thick layers of straw and set up a makeshift bed inside with bricks supporting a wooden board. She gathered some discarded blankets and mattresses from her family’s storage and spread them inside. To make it look more convincing, she even tilled a patch of land in the back and accelerated the growth of crops to match the current season. With that, her preparations were complete.

Satisfied that she had thought of everything, Zhenzhen realized the only flaw left was Wangwo himself. When she went to pick him up, she sighed, “Maybe I should find a different house. Just look at you—so fair and plump, looking full of life. You don’t resemble someone who’s been struggling in a broken-down place for two years.”

Wangwo touched his belly, regretting that he had eaten too well. Fortunately, Jing Dongning came up with a solution—he prepared a medicinal powder that, when soaked in for twenty minutes, would turn the skin a sickly yellow, making him look like an invalid. As for his weight, it wasn’t a big concern. Many malnourished people appeared bloated like a ball due to severe starvation-induced swelling.

Two days later, Wangwo successfully met with the Swedish ambassador, and the government was immediately informed. When officials met with Wangwo, they predictably asked where he had been living for the past two years. Wangwo provided the location Zhenzhen had set up and explained, “I wouldn’t have thought about returning if I weren’t at my limit. But as soon as I entered the capital, I overheard discussions about the newspaper reports and hurried over.”

Seeing his ragged clothing, sallow complexion, and swollen body, the officials found his story believable. When their men confirmed the existence of the rundown house, their attitude became even more sympathetic. They quickly arranged his passport, and on the same day, Wangwo boarded a plane with the Swedish ambassador, leaving China.

After finishing business in the capital, Zhenzhen focused on cataloging the cultural artifacts in her spatial storage. Since she could control the time flow within the space, she set it to a frozen state. This ensured that paintings and calligraphy retained their original colors without fading. Over the past two years, she had read extensively about antiques, frequently sought advice from the renowned archaeologist Xu Mengguo, and used the vast collection of antiques in her space for hands-on study, rapidly improving her appraisal skills.

Placing a Ming Dynasty porcelain piece onto a shelf, she quickly recorded its details in her notebook. Stretching lazily, she exited her space.

Last year, using the excuse that she was getting older and needed independence, Zhenzhen had moved into the small room in the western wing where Osmanthus had lived before marriage. She had even pestered Grandma Li into installing a latch on the door.

Emerging from her room, she rubbed her eyes and asked, “Grandma, when’s dinner? I’m so sleepy!”

Stepping out of the room, Zhenzhen rubbed her eyes and asked, “Grandma, when are we having dinner? I’m so sleepy.”

“Did your homework tire you out?” Grandma Li quickly came over to check her eyes. “Oh dear, go play outside for a while. Your sister-in-law made fish stew today—you better eat more later. Let me tell you, eating fish is good for your eyes and makes you smarter, got it?”

Zhenzhen grinned at Grandma Li. “I was the one who told you that, remember?”

Grandma Li playfully patted her hand. “Well, I’m just reminding you. This little girl never lets anything slip past her.”

After dinner, Zhenzhen excused herself, saying she was too tired, and quickly washed up before heading to bed. She even called out, “I’m locking my door—nobody disturb me.”

Grandma Li, knowing her granddaughter didn’t like people randomly entering her room, immediately responded, “Got it, go to sleep. You have school in the morning.”

Zhenzhen chuckled as she slipped into her room and bolted the door. Over the past two years, as more and more antiques were collected, her stash of large yellow croaker gold bars had dwindled to half its original amount. Watching her future business funds visibly shrink day by day, she started feeling restless. This reminded her of something from her past life.

In her previous life, Tian’nan had been a major tourist destination, bustling with visitors all year round. During her sophomore year in college, she and her roommates went backpacking there. While exploring a remote area, they visited an old noble family estate.

According to legend, the last owner of the estate had been a ruthless tyrant. Before his capture, he supposedly hid 300 chests of gold in an underground passage. When he was executed, the estate was abandoned, and the gold’s whereabouts became an unsolved mystery. Over the decades, treasure hunters tried to locate the stash, even discovering a few hidden tunnels—but they were all empty. Whether the gold had vanished or simply remained undiscovered was a mystery.

Back then, Zhenzhen and her friends had eagerly speculated about various possibilities. But now, she knew the truth—because tonight, she was going to Tian’nan’s Golden Manor to claim that gold herself.

To prepare for the trip, Zhenzhen had already gathered supplies—flashlights, batteries, and even a few makeshift wooden sticks stored in her space just in case. After double-checking her gear, she waited until her family settled in for the night. Once the lights were off, she disappeared from her room in a flash.

Beicha was in the northeast of the country, while Tian’nan was in the southwest. Each time she teleported, she paused to scan her surroundings, gradually expanding her perception. It took her over half an hour to reach Tian’nan.

Golden Manor was located in the broadleaf mountain region of central Tian’nan, a former hotspot for bandits during the late Qing Dynasty and Republican era. Having visited the place before and with a mental map of Tian’nan’s entire terrain, Zhenzhen had no trouble finding the manor.

In daylight, the ruins of Golden Manor already looked eerie and desolate—at night, they were downright haunted. The place was so unsettling that locals avoided it entirely. Even Zhenzhen, shining her flashlight over the dark, decaying estate, felt a shiver run down her spine.

It was her first time visiting such a place at night, and she trembled slightly, feeling as if ghosts could appear at any moment. She didn’t really believe in ghosts or gods, but then again, she had time-traveled and gained incredible abilities. If a ghost did show up, it wouldn’t exactly be shocking.

The more she thought about it, the more scared she became. She even forgot about searching for gold and quickly scanned the entire estate with her consciousness. Finding no supernatural entities, she sighed in relief.

Rubbing her face, she took a sip of honey water from her flask, refocused her mind, and began searching for the gold’s hiding place.

Although the manor was vast, in her mind’s eye, it was just a tiny section of the landscape. Soon, she detected 300 chests buried three kilometers away, accessible through an underground passage from the manor.

But that was for normal people. Zhenzhen didn’t need to bother with such a route. She teleported directly above the buried gold, playfully making a grasping gesture with her right hand. The earth trembled slightly, as if a mischievous child had been caught misbehaving. She stomped her foot, and the ground instantly fell silent. Then, a fissure slowly opened, and the 300 chests of gold rose from underground.

Zhenzhen’s grin nearly split her face. With a flick of her hand, she stored all 300 chests in her space. Once the ground returned to its original state, she left the site.

Back in Beicha, she didn’t even step out of the teleportation tunnel but instead went straight into her space. The 300 chests were neatly arranged. With a wave of her hand, all the lids swung open at once, revealing a dazzling sea of gold bars. Zhenzhen gazed at the endless shine, so overwhelmed with joy that she nearly passed out.

That night, she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

The next morning, she stepped out of her room, still grinning ear to ear. Grandma Li glanced at her and said, “Oh my, why are you so happy? Did you dream about finding gold?”

Bursting with happiness but unable to share it with anyone, Zhenzhen could only half-jokingly nod. “I dreamt I found 300 chests of gold! I even rolled around on them, but they were too hard, so I woke up before I finished.”

Grandma Li laughed heartily from her spot on the heated brick bed. “You sure dream big—300 chests of gold! So, tell me, how would you spend all that gold?”

Zhenzhen gulped down half a mug of water, wiped her mouth, and replied smugly, “It’s obvious poverty has limited your imagination. Honestly, 300 chests of gold wouldn’t even be enough! I’d use them to buy antique paintings and calligraphy, and purchase entire rows of courtyard houses in the capital.”

Grandma Li shook her head, chuckling. “Spending all that money on worthless, useless things… You might as well just keep dreaming.”

Zhenzhen chuckled and went out to wash up for breakfast. Just as she finished brushing her teeth, Mingbei tugged at her. “Next time you have such a good dream, remember to call me. Maybe I can dream about finding gold too!”

Hearing that, Zhenzhen almost swallowed her toothpaste foam. She shot Li Mingbei a sidelong glance. “And then you can keep dreaming about getting married, right?”

Mingbei immediately nodded, his face breaking into a foolish grin.

——

Seasons passed, and the Worker-Peasant-Soldier School was thriving, especially the Agricultural Academy, which became a popular choice. People from surrounding areas sent students to study at Anbei Agricultural Academy, some even older than Mingdong. Mingdong didn’t just teach theory—he had hands-on experience from working on farms during college and had spent a year laboring in the fields after arriving in Anbei. Combining theory with practice, he taught in a way that was both insightful and practical, answering many real-life farming problems students had encountered.

Because they were learning useful skills and getting answers to past difficulties, the students respected Mingdong, and no one had anything bad to say about him. However, since this was the first semester for students who had come from labor camps, Mingdong didn’t dare go home during summer vacation. When autumn came, and he saw how things remained stable, along with many colleagues bringing their families to join them, he started to feel tempted.

He submitted a request to the school, and since he was the only instructor who had graduated from Eastern Agricultural University, they valued him highly and immediately assigned him a two-room family apartment. Overjoyed, Mingdong quickly wrote home, asking Guihua to bring Roubao and Doubao to Anbei for a family reunion.

Back home, the news caused a flurry of activity. Anbei was even colder than Beicha, so Grandma Li and Wang Sufen took apart Guihua and the children’s cotton jackets and pants, added fresh cotton for extra warmth, and restuffed their bedding with new cotton after having it fluffed.

Wang Sufen was quick and efficient. In just over ten days, she had everything ready for winter. Meanwhile, Zhenzhen brought back plenty of game, which Guihua either pickled, smoked, or stir-fried before sealing them in jars to take along for Mingdong.

Although the letter said the school had a cafeteria, the Li family believed nothing compared to home-cooked meals. They thought it was better to cook at home daily for a true sense of normalcy.

Guihua’s main goal in moving was to take good care of Mingdong’s health. She firmly believed that home-cooked meals were far more nourishing than cafeteria food. After discussing, the family packed two sacks of cornmeal, one sack of sorghum rice, and half a sack each of wheat flour and white rice. It wasn’t that Grandma Li was being stingy, but Guihua worried that bringing too many fine grains might draw unwanted attention. If someone tried to make trouble, it could cause issues for Mingdong, so she preferred to take more coarse grains instead.

When Mingdong first started working, he sent all his wages home. He hadn’t earned anything during his labor reform year, and only recently had an income again. Grandma Li knew exactly how much Mingdong had earned and that he hadn’t saved much. Before Guihua left, Grandma Li handed her a handkerchief-wrapped bundle. “This is all the money and ration coupons Mingdong has earned over the years. Life won’t be easy for you all, so keep this safe and spend wisely. Don’t be wasteful and end up struggling later.”

Guihua quickly tried to push it back. “I’ve been raising the boys at home all these years, eating and using the family’s money. Plus, we’re already bringing so much grain—I really can’t take this.”

“Listen to me.” Grandma Li firmly stuffed the money into Guihua’s hands. “If you were staying here, I wouldn’t give you this. But you’re moving out to live on your own now. This isn’t just for you—I’ll do the same for Mingxi and Mingnan in the future. You don’t understand because you’ve always lived at home, but life outside isn’t easy. Keep this safe. If you refuse again, I’ll get mad.”

Hearing this, Guihua finally tucked the bundle into her inner pocket. Only then did Grandma Li smile in satisfaction. “You two have been married for years but never really lived together properly. Now, you can finally be together every day. Who knows, by next year, I might be holding a great-granddaughter in my arms.”

Zhenzhen, who had been listening, couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Grandma, my sister-in-law hasn’t even left yet, and you’re already assigning her the task of having a baby?”

Grandma Li chuckled. “What do you know? They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Guihua’s face instantly turned bright red.