Daily Life in the Countryside After Being Reborn-Chapter 3 - 2 No Taste Space

Xiao Xian concentrated her mind, and a sesame-sized black dot appeared in her brain, which then extended into an endless barren land.

"Body changes, age changes, the space doesn't change," Xiao Xian's garbage space was a brownish-yellow land that wouldn't change color no matter how much water was poured or how many plants were planted.

In Yunteng Sect, each person's spatial attribute is different, divided into gold, silver, copper, iron four types of spaces. These were all things that Xiao Xian heard from her fellow sect brothers and sisters; her garbage space had nothing to do with gold, silver, copper, iron.

After confirming that her space hadn't changed at all, Xiao Xian muttered, "It looks like my luck isn't the worst, at least I snagged a thrifty grandfather who knows how to make lard rice as compensation." Xiao Xian had lost her parents when she was young, and just happened to be picked up by Yun Qing, who was searching for exotic flowers and herbs, and brought back to Yunteng Sect like she was a cat or a dog.

With a grandfather, and a clean bed, Xiao Xian was still feeling melancholic; she missed her sect brother Yun Guanzi with his immortal-like demeanor, and she missed the roaring scolds of her master who was disappointed at her lack of progress; Xiao Xian walked in the space, reminiscing over her vanished days at Yunteng. The garbage space was the only place she was familiar with, where Xiao Xian could feel at ease.

Since owning the space, Xiao Xian had no idea how large her space was. Her fellow sect brother described their spaces in terms of "how many trees could be planted in it." However, in her space, there were no trees, and she didn't know how large her space actually was.

Xiao Xian walked forward unconsciously until she heard a "crack" sound.

As mentioned before, Xiao Xian's space didn't grow a single hair; not only did it not grow, but it also devoured foreign objects including stones, old clothes, broken iron swords - anything with a name, once it entered, all would disappear. So Xiao Xian walked with ease in her space and when she took off her shoes before bed, she wasn't worried about stepping on something sharp.

But now, she actually stepped on a foreign object, and it was also her slightly shorter leg; Xiao Xian curiously bent down and moved the leg that was a few centimeters shorter than average. Under her foot, a pool of green liquid stuck to her sole.

Underfoot was a small green sprout that had been crushed. The sprout hadn't grown for long, thin-lined, and had been almost obliterated under Xiao Xian's small foot, leaving lonely a stem and a torn leaf on the ground. The pool of green liquid was likely from the crushed leaf.

"If master knew that I killed the plants, I'd be deprived of meals again," Xiao Xian took a while to realize, and she sighed deeply at the dying green sprout. She was no longer in Yunteng Sect, and her master would never scold her again.

"Wait, this sprout grew in my space, my garbage space, and it actually sprouted something alive," Xiao Xian jumped up excitedly, but the sprout was crushed by her foot, leaving Xiao Xian feeling upset again. She hadn't even had time to rejoice before she had to mourn the only sprout that wouldn't see the next day's sun.

Outside the space lit up, with a stir of her mind, Xiao Xian was properly lying back in her quilt.

It turns out that Zhu Shijun had come in the middle of the night to check if Xiao Xian was sleeping obediently, he walked into the bedchamber, looked at his granddaughter kicking the quilt into a mess, tucked her feet back under the covers, sighed when he saw Xiao Xian's uneven feet, folded the quilt corner, turned off the light, and returned to his room.

Xiao Xian feared that he would come to check again in the middle of the night, so she dared not enter her space again and waited until the rooster crowed for the first time before she fell into a drowsy sleep.

The pool of green liquid on her sole adhered to the skin on the bottom of Xiao Xian's foot and seeped into her sole; her uneven legs emitted bursts of green light, and her leg emitted a shimmering green light. Her leg made the sound of bones growing, and the deeply sleeping Xiao Xian didn't notice the abnormalities occurring in her body. That green light continued to spread over her whole body, wrapping Xiao Xian entirely in the green glow.

The horizon began to brighten, and the green light finally dimmed. Xiao Xian's restless feet kicked off the blanket again, her thin legs lying side by side, neither long nor short, surprisingly growing even during the night.

Ge Village is a typical village in the Qiannan Mountain, despite the country's efforts in developing the west, with roads paved and electricity installed in the village, even the village chief's house had running water first. However, most villagers still maintained the living habits of their ancestors. They used the water from the hand-pumped wells in front of their houses to wash their faces, and their breakfast was thin porridge with a few pickles, enough to get by.

Every year around this time, after the autumn harvest season, and all the farming work is done. The women were busy stringing fresh chili peppers at their doorsteps, waiting for the autumn wind to dry them for the winter.

Men with no work in hand would gather in groups of three or five, sitting outside the village temple, rolling tobacco leaves, sitting together, discussing the latest happenings in the village. In a small mountain village of only about a hundred households, even the smallest matters could be fervently discussed for a month. Recently, the hottest topic in the village was about the grandfather and grandson who had just moved in last month.

"The old man came with an iron lump," said one of the village farmers, his speech less polished and refined than the village chief's, not mindful of how he appeared before others.

The 'iron lump' referred to handcuffs. Although the mountain region of the Southwest is somewhat impoverished, it still has good public order; a missing egg or a lost basin at home is considered a big deal. Someone brought in with handcuffs, the younger villagers probably had never seen such a thing before.

"The village chief said, keep your gossip in check," said a man in his forties or fifties, his face sunburned red, a farmer stuffing some tobacco leaves into his long water pipe, puffing away noisily.

That was the message the village chief gave when Director Zhu moved to the village, advising them not to speak ill of others behind their backs, almost as if he should take a horn and shout it under the big locust tree at the village entrance every day like a rooster.

Mimicking the village chief's tone, the farmer with the water pipe said, "Director Zhu is from the Imperial City, a person of high status." The older generation in this Han village had moved into the mountains to escape the wars before liberation; there were more literate than illiterate folks in the village, still using outdated expressions and referring to the capital as the Imperial City.

"But even great figures, once they wear those iron lumps, they've committed crimes. A phoenix that falls into a hen house, rolled in the mud, is nothing but a common chicken," interjected the same man who spoke earlier, spitting out thick phlegm to express his disdain for both the village chief and the officials from the Imperial City.

"What do you know? Forget about other things, the Hongtashan cigarettes that your daughter brings you from outside the mountains every New Year, were founded by that old man," rebutted the farmer with the water pipe, shaking the pipe as the burnt tobacco leaves turned to ash.

As the ash fell, a series of heavy coughs followed from behind. Zhu Shijun, hands behind his back, walked slowly past; his grayish white Zhongshan suit, just like the day he entered the village, washed till its edges were white and seemingly ironed, fitting snugly on the elderly man's not-so-tall frame.

As the elder passed by, he didn't even glance, treating the gossiping villagers as if they were just a few leaves fallen by the autumn wind, insignificant.

The wrinkles on the old man's face, unlike the dry, horizontal wrinkles common among mountain people constantly exposed to sun and wind, were intricately intertwined, symbolizing the traces left from his decades navigating the complexities of officialdom.

The villagers fell silent, watching Zhu Shijun leave before resuming their discussion. The strange old transplant had a routine akin to the watch on the village chief's wrist, leaving precisely on time for his daily walks. It was puzzling, with mountains all around, whether looking horizontally or sideways, the barren and remote mountainous area seemed to hold no appeal yet he looked at them time and again.

Observant villagers noticed that the watch, which the village chief only wore for New Year celebrations and happy occasions, also adorned the old man's wrist. Even the least worldly of villagers could affirm that the watch on the old man's wrist was far more sophisticated than the domestically made watch the village chief wore.

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