RYEY – Chapter 11 A New Hairstyle in the Space

Li Huan left with a smile. Cheng Qiao held the rabbit leg in her hand, the fragrance wafting up, and opened her mouth to take big bites. Although it had cooled a little, Li Huan’s grilling skills were impressive—crispy outside, tender inside, and very delicious.

After finishing the rabbit meat, Cheng Qiao’s thoughts went back to her space. After all, she had only just discovered it last night; of course she needed to take a better look.

She closed the dorm door, messed up her bedding again for cover, and then entered the space. She found that besides automatically replenishing supplies, the well water in the backyard seemed to be another treasure.

She went straight to the well, quickly drew up a bucket, and poured it into a basin. Placing her injured foot inside, she felt the cool water envelop her swollen ankle. Before long, the swelling slowly subsided.

Cheng Qiao felt calmer. No wonder she had slept so well last night. And also… she vaguely remembered clutching Xu Laidi’s throat, though she couldn’t recall exactly how she had let go in the end.

Looking at the vegetable garden, where everything was already ripe, Cheng Qiao tried harvesting with her thoughts. Sure enough, as soon as the idea arose, the vegetables pulled themselves from the soil. Her eyes went wide.

She then tried moving the harvested vegetables into a basket, and then moving the basket into the warehouse. Everything obeyed her mental command—until her head began to ache.

So, this space could indeed be controlled by mental power. But her current strength wasn’t enough. Maybe if she drank more well water, her mental energy would grow stronger?

Cheng Qiao boiled a kettle of well water on the space’s gas stove, poured it into a thermos, and set it aside for later drinking.

She went to the big bathroom and washed herself with plain water—just a quick scrub-down. She didn’t dare use soap or body wash, afraid their scent would give her away.

But when it came time to change into underwear, she realized all the undergarments here were styles from more than a decade later—completely impossible to wear outside.

She tried using her thoughts to “collect” the dorm clothes from the cabinet, but no matter how many times she chanted it in her head, nothing happened.

Left with no choice, Cheng Qiao left the space, walked to the cabinet, and was about to take the clothes when a thought struck her: perhaps the distance was too great, and her mental strength insufficient?

In a blink, she was back in the bathroom inside the space, murmuring “collect” toward the clothes. Still nothing. Stepping out of the space again, she whispered “collect” while looking at the clothes—this time, they instantly disappeared.

So that was it. Items outside the space had to be seen with her own eyes to be collected. But once inside, anything she thought of could be brought out.

Cheng Qiao played with this function several times before finally stopping. She returned to the big bathroom, changed into clean clothes, and rummaged through the warehouse. She pulled out all the items that would be useful in this era.

Wool blankets, quilts, padded coats and pants, sweaters, thick cotton hats, rubber shoes, gloves, scarves—these were all scarce goods in the sixties and seventies, hard to buy even with money and ration tickets.

She was about to get married, after all. She needed some dowry; otherwise, people would look down on her. Her future mother-in-law might not say much, but the sharp tongues of the village aunts could cut sharper than knives.

Looking at the neat piles of supplies, Cheng Qiao couldn’t help but laugh in satisfaction. Tomorrow she would go to the county town. If she stopped by the supply and marketing cooperative, she could conveniently sneak out some of these things.

After checking everything once more, Cheng Qiao left the space with her dirty clothes. She tidied up her bed, opened the door, and glanced at the sky. It seemed that time in the space flowed slower than outside.

She went to the yard, washed the clothes she had just changed out of, and with nothing else to do, opened her cabinet to see if she had any bright clothing suitable for her wedding day.

She guessed that Li Huan’s wedding day would probably be after the autumn harvest—once the grain had been handed over and people had money and food in hand, that was the best time to marry.

But this was the north. In half a month, the weather would turn sharply cold. She’d better prepare a light padded jacket. She had one—red background with dark blue floral print—still nearly new. It would be perfect.

She paired it with dark blue woolen pants and padded shoes. With her hair pinned up, the outfit was flawless. Carefully folding it, she then cleaned her padded shoes with a brush before putting them into the space.

From the space, she took out a pair of common cotton shoes. Those were everywhere, so nothing suspicious. Checking her watch, she realized that in a little over an hour, the educated youths would be coming back from work.

She hurried to the kitchen, scooped a big bowl of sorghum flour, mixed in some white flour, and kneaded it into a dough to make sorghum dumplings. She hadn’t cooked lunch earlier, and if she didn’t cook dinner either, people might start suspecting.

After fetching firewood, she scrubbed the big pot with water, filled it again, cut the dough into small chunks, and boiled them. Once cooked, she fished them out to cool.

Then she went to the educated youths’ small plot, pulled up a few green onions, washed and chopped them, and checked her oil bottle. Only a finger’s thickness of oil remained, but she poured it all into the pan.

When the oil was hot, she stir-fried the onions, added salt and garlic paste, and plated it up. After cooling, she mixed it with the sorghum dumplings, adding vinegar, and secretly seasoning it with some chicken essence and soy sauce from her space.

It was a pity the educated youth spot didn’t have sesame oil or chili flakes. A few drops of sesame oil and a sprinkle of chili would have made it perfect. She had plenty in her space, but her cautious nature stopped her from taking them out.

Zhang Yuefang returned to the educated youth spot fifteen minutes early—it was her turn to cook today. As soon as she walked in, she smelled the fragrance of onions. Seeing Cheng Qiao with a big bowl of sorghum dumplings, she couldn’t help but swallow.

“Cheng Qiao, how are you so talented? You even made sorghum flour taste this good!”

“Sister Yuefang, here, try some.”

Cheng Qiao pushed the bowl toward her. Zhang Yuefang quickly grabbed her own chopsticks, took a few pieces into her bowl, and began eating, praising between bites:

“Mmm, delicious! Just missing a little spice. I’ve got some in my cabinet—I’ll get it for you.”

She opened her cabinet and took out a jar of chili sauce. The moment she opened the lid, a spicy, meaty aroma filled the room, making Cheng Qiao’s mouth water.

Peeking in, she saw a layer of bright red chili oil floating on top, glossy and vibrant. No wonder Yuefang treasured this jar so much.

“Sister Yuefang, this is really something. I can’t resist wanting a bite.”

“Of course it’s good stuff! You’ve got good taste. Here, take a spoonful.”

Zhang Yuefang grinned proudly, scooping a spoonful into Cheng Qiao’s bowl. Cheng Qiao quickly stirred it in, noticing Yuefang’s gaze lingering on her bowl. She instantly understood what that meant.