Chapter 12

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The carrying basket required two people to lift. Shen An stopped, and naturally Shen Ning could not take more than a couple of steps either. She turned back in confusion. “Second Brother, why aren’t you walking?”

Shen An lowered his eyes, concealing the doubt in them, and suppressed the inexplicable thought that had flashed through his mind. “I’m looking to see if there’s any wild ginger.”

“Then I’ll look too.” Completely unaware of what was on her second brother’s mind, Shen Ning heard that he was searching for wild ginger and stretched her neck to peer around. At the same time, she asked Sang Luo, “Eldest Sister-in-law, how tall does wild ginger usually grow?”

“Between one and three feet?” Sang Luo was not certain whether ginger in this era grew the same way it did in the future. In the original body’s memories, she had only ever seen ginger served at the dining table; she had never seen it growing in the ground.

Besides, species were constantly evolving, and this world existed in a different time and space altogether.

The two of them were so absorbed in searching for wild ginger that neither noticed Shen An walking behind them, claiming that he was searching as well. His gaze never once fell toward the ground. Instead, it kept landing on Sang Luo from time to time—filled with surprise and scrutiny, while also insisting to himself that such a thing was impossible. His eyes shifted restlessly.

…

Something was wrong with Shen An.

Sang Luo did not notice it until she was preparing dinner.

The little fellow had completely changed from his exuberant self during the day. He had grown unusually quiet and kept glancing at her every so often.

Glancing was one thing, but whenever she happened to catch him at it, he would quickly avert his eyes, evidently believing that he had done so discreetly.

Indeed, if he had been dealing with a child, it might truly have counted as discretion.

But was Sang Luo a child?

A woman’s age was not something one spoke of, but in her previous life she had indeed been twenty-eight. How could she fail to notice that something was wrong with a nine-year-old boy’s mood?

Sang Luo’s head filled with question marks. Then her heart tightened, and with a single turn of thought, she realized what had happened.

It was not that she was being oversensitive. She had traveled into another world. Although the original owner had probably died before she arrived, she had still taken possession of another person’s body. This was, in effect, a kind of resurrection through a corpse, and Sang Luo could not honestly say that she felt no unease about it.

If she had not been confronted with the threat of starvation the moment she arrived, she would certainly have pretended to be ill and stayed quietly in bed, avoiding every possibility of exposing herself.

But could she have done that? The original owner had died of illness and hunger despite the two measures of rice Shen An had borrowed from the Chen family in the middle of the night. With the three of them depending on it for food, how could Sang Luo not have done everything in her power to find something nutritious?

She could not have dared.

So had this little fellow noticed something?

Sang Luo’s thoughts raced, yet she did not allow the slightest trace of them to show on her face—not even a frown.

She swiftly recalled when Shen An’s attitude had changed. Her memories rewound bit by bit, like a tape running backward.

Then she remembered Shen Ning’s long string of praise.

“Eldest Sister-in-law, you really know so much! You know how to catch fish, make immortal tofu, recognize wild ginger, and even treat colds!”

“Second Brother, why aren’t you walking?”

There was the answer.

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This child was truly perceptive—and possessed a remarkable amount of composure.

He was only nine in name, which would make him seven or eight by modern standards, merely a first-grade elementary school student.

Children well protected by their parents were usually still soft and adorable at that age.

But look at Shen An. It was not only that he was perceptive; after noticing something amiss, he could remain perfectly calm. With a simple excuse about searching for wild ginger, he had neither frightened Shen Ning nor alerted her, like a snake quietly watching its prey.

As Sang Luo added a little salt to the earthenware pot and stirred it gently with a spoon, she wondered what sort of “thing” Shen An now believed her to be. A demon, or a ghost?

According to the original owner’s memories, people of this era were deeply superstitious, firmly believing in the existence of gods, immortals, demons, ghosts, spirits, and monsters. Thinking of that, Sang Luo could not help clicking her tongue inwardly.

For him to observe her covertly for so long, the child certainly had courage.

She simply pretended not to know, considering how to mend any gaps in her story and what explanations might hold together, while waiting to see how long the little fellow could keep it up.

She was not afraid. If soldiers came, she would meet them with weapons; if floods came, she would block them with earth.

Still, she carefully reflected on the matter. With only two children beside her, and with the support of the original owner’s memories, she had indeed been too careless. From now on, she would have to pay closer attention. Whatever she did, it needed to be logically explainable.

She must not end up being mistaken for a mountain spirit or wild monster, a wandering ghost or lonely soul, and burned alive by someone.

Sang Luo did not want to come back to life only to experience such a terrifying and agonizing death. And if she died again, would Heaven allow her to travel into another world a second time?

Treasure life. Keep the secret identity hidden.

Fortunately, after coming to Ten-Mile Village, the original owner had never left the house and had been taciturn. Apart from these two siblings, even Shen San and the Li family, with whom she had lived for half a month, could hardly be said to have known her well.

Moreover, the original owner had first suffered a devastating upheaval and then passed once through the gates of death. A change in temperament was entirely normal. Sang Luo did not need to deliberately imitate the way the original owner had behaved.

…

At that moment, Shen An’s thoughts were far from as calm as Sang Luo imagined.

Just as Sang Luo suspected, he had indeed begun exploring supernatural possibilities. The only difference was that, after first thinking of mountain spirits, wild monsters, lonely ghosts, and wandering souls, his thoughts had also turned toward gods and immortals.

The food Sang Luo had made with them from tree leaves that day had been called immortal tree and immortal tofu—both names containing the word “immortal.”

After his initial suspicion, Shen An’s thoughts gradually shifted toward salvation. Perhaps, seeing how hard life was for him and his sister, some benevolent immortal had come to help them.

Of course, even that thought failed to take root.

Among the stories village children passed around—stories originally told to them by adults—there were plenty in which demons, ghosts, and monsters used tempting gifts to set traps.

So was this truly his eldest sister-in-law? If not, had she come to help him and his sister, or to harm them?

His heart was caught in a hundred knots, yet he dared not let anything show on his face. He wanted to test her, but did not dare. Yet if he did not test her, what if she really was some demon, ghost, or monster? Once the sun set and darkness descended, would she perhaps…?

He did not dare continue imagining what might come next. His heart felt as though it were being roasted over a slow fire, an agony beyond words.

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Shen An and Sang Luo each had their own thoughts. Only Shen Ning was experiencing pure happiness.

The little girl squatted beside the stove, watching the fish soup in the earthenware pot gradually turn milky white. Listening to it bubble and gurgle, she inhaled its fragrant savor and swallowed repeatedly, all while imagining how they should prepare tomorrow for their grand plan to make money at the market the day after.

Her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth were all terribly busy.

Sang Luo glanced at Shen Ning and sighed inwardly. This was what a seven- or eight-year-old child ought to be like.

How could two children born on the same day be so different? Shen An seemed to have eight hundred hidden schemes in his head.

When the soup had turned more or less the right color, Sang Luo dropped in the washed wild onion bulbs she had set aside. After waiting a little longer, she broke the remaining half of the wild onions—the portion left over from mixing the purslane—into short pieces with her fingertips and tossed them into the pot as well.

The hot soup released the wild onions’ fragrance at once, filling the entire room.

Shen Ning was intoxicated by the aroma. She drew in a deep breath and grinned so broadly at the milky fish soup that her mouth nearly stretched from ear to ear. “The fish soup Eldest Sister-in-law made smells wonderful!”

Sang Luo lowered the fire beneath the stove. She had just reached for a bowl to serve the fish when the words nearly made her hand stop.

Fortunately, the original owner had never cooked fish soup for these two siblings.

Calmly, she picked up the bowl, used a wooden spoon to lift the palm-sized fish from the bottom of the pot, and handed it to Shen Ning. “Of course it smells good with onions. The soup is too hot, so eat the fish and purslane first. You and your second brother can share this fish.”

Shen Ning’s face lit up with delight. “Thank you, Eldest Sister-in-law!”

Sang Luo smiled, took her own bowl, and lifted the other, slightly smaller fish into it. Then she picked up her chopsticks and slowly selected the meat from the bones.

Shen An could not help glancing at her again.

Demons and ghosts did not eat food like ordinary people, did they?

…

Sang Luo was genuinely exasperated.

These furtive glances, one after another—he might as well simply ask her outright.

She turned to meet Shen An’s gaze and asked, “How is the fish? Is it good?”

Shen An had been secretly wondering what kind of demon or monster Sang Luo might be. Caught off guard by her question, he felt a little guilty. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, it also gave him the courage to test her. Following her lead, he nodded. “It’s good. Why didn’t you take us fishing before, Eldest Sister-in-law?”

Why had she never gathered tree leaves to make immortal tofu?

With abilities like these, how could she ever have fallen ill and starved to death?

But he concealed all the sharpness in his words, even managing, with great effort, to summon the innocent smile appropriate to a nine-year-old child.

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