Li Jinfeng looked around and her gaze settled on the dilapidated window, through which one could easily see in and out. She temporarily gave up the idea of taking things out of her space. The secret of the space was something she could not let anyone know. Her stomach growled, and the wound on her forehead throbbed painfully. Li Jinfeng drifted off into a confused sleep and when she woke up again, it was already night. The sky had darkened, and moonlight shone through the window, illuminating the rundown room and Li Jinfeng's pale, bloodless face. She was so hungry that no one had called her to eat in the meantime, and Li Jinfeng had slept for a whole day. She struggled to get up, hid in the corner, and, using the broken table as cover, took out a bowl of red date and longan porridge from her space. In modern times, Li Jinfeng might not have given it a second glance, but at this moment, it tasted like a delicious delicacy. She was extremely hungry, and after drinking a bowl of porridge, she licked the bottom clean, leaving no residue. Reluctantly, she put the bowl back into her space, and Li Jinfeng began to treat her wound. Her grandfather, Li Fuman, had used a folk remedy on her, but with the hot weather, it was easy to get infected, or even suppurate, if not careful. Li Jinfeng did not want her already difficult life to become even harder, so she took the risk of being discovered and washed the wound on her forehead with hydrogen peroxide, applied antiseptic, and took antibiotics. She still wrapped the wound with the same yellowed rag, and after doing all this, Li Jinfeng found herself drenched in sweat. She looked up at the window, which was unchanged, with no one having come by! Another night passed, and when she woke up again, it was daylight. Perhaps because of the emergency measures she had taken last night, her head still hurt a bit, but the wound no longer spasmed, and with the bowl of red date porridge, she was no longer awakened by hunger. With some strength, Li Jinfeng began to examine this body. It was thin, with not an ounce of flesh on it, even thinner than the Africans she had seen on TV in the 21st century, with dry and dark skin. She wore a loose, yellowish shirt with countless patches, and her pants were even more patched up, as if they had been picked up from somewhere, big and baggy. Struggling to get up from the kang bed, Li Jinfeng opened the door and heard a mocking voice. 'Oh, has the capitalist young lady woken up?'

Yesterday, I lay in bed all day, and today I'm still planning to continue being a young lady at home." It was Li Ailan, the one who had smashed Li Jinfeng's head to a pulp yesterday, sending the original owner of this body away from this world. Li Jinfeng ignored her and headed straight to the kitchen in the backyard. It was just the time for breakfast, and after breakfast, everyone in the Li family, young and old, would go to work at the production team. This period coincided with the busy summer harvest, the busiest time for the team, but also the happiest time for all the villagers. After working, they would get work points. Work points could be exchanged for food, and the villagers had been working hard for half a year, waiting for the distribution of grain after the summer harvest. The Li family had a large population, and the grain in their storage jar had long been insufficient. Even during the most physically demanding double-cropping of the summer harvest, Zhang Xiulan only prepared clear, bottom-visible coarse grain porridge for the family. A bowl of porridge, accompanied by a piece of cornbread smaller than a child's palm, was how they got through half a day. Most people in the production team had to work on an empty stomach, knowing that only by gritting their teeth and working hard to harvest the rice could they store the grain, pay the public grain, and have their share of food for the rest of the year.