Chapter Forty-Eight

Beyond the small courtyard stretched vast expanses of land. Mo Yu squatted down, scooped up a handful of soil, and upon closer inspection, realized that this earth was unlike any she had ever seen before.

From afar, it appeared to be rich, fertile black soil, but up close, it shimmered with a dark, purple glow!

Mo Yu had never encountered soil like this before, and naturally didn’t dare waste her precious few seeds on an experiment. Using a spade, she turned over about a square meter of ground, planting two tomato seeds at a good distance from one another.

In the distance, a crystal-clear stream flowed, its source hidden from view, gurgling steadily as it wound its way past.

Mo Yu wanted to follow the stream to its origin, but the farther bank was shrouded in a thick, impenetrable mist, visibility almost nil.

She cupped the cool water in her hands, letting it trickle gently onto the purple earth.

And so, she and her spirit egg companion waited in silence, hoping for a miracle — that food might sprout miraculously within three seconds. But nothing happened. She chuckled at her own naivety, not particularly disappointed; after all, her hopes had been childish and foolish.

With a shrug, Mo Yu turned and headed back toward the small villa. “Come on, Eggy, let’s see what other fun things we can find.”

Eggy was the name of her spirit companion.

Eggy lingered stubbornly beside the planted seeds, unwilling to leave, but when it saw Mo Yu was heading inside, it spun in anxious circles before finally rolling after her with a series of soft rumbles.

Suddenly, there was a faint “pop” from the soil, and a tiny seedling burst forth.

The small villa seemed long abandoned; a thick layer of dust coated the stair rails, though the rest of the place was strangely, almost unnaturally spotless.

Mo Yu ascended the spiral staircase to the second floor. Unlike the ground floor’s emptiness — more like a warehouse — the second floor was designed for living. A wide corridor led into a spacious living room, where oversized pillows shaped like rabbits and other animals were scattered cozily over the fabric sofa, lending the room a warm, inviting air. Opposite the sofa stood a massive display screen, with a table positioned between them.

“It’s probably meant for meals,” Mo Yu mused, “though it’s hardly in the right spot.”

She dismissed the odd placement of the dining table; her curiosity was quickly piqued by the doors along the hall.

Aside from the large living room, four rooms with tightly shut doors lined the second floor. Their handles, like the floors, gleamed clean, as if someone came by regularly to tidy up.

She opened three doors in turn. One room was a simply decorated bedroom, its pale green wallpaper adorned with lifelike spider lilies. Another was a reading room, shelves lined with rare and unfamiliar volumes — a miniature library. The third was a spacious bathroom. “A bath in here would be heavenly,” Mo Yu thought.

Shutting the doors behind her, she strolled to the fourth. This room was different from the rest — markedly so.

First, the door was constructed from rows of wooden planks hammered together, crude yet solid, completely out of place with the rest of the house’s decor.

Second, a thick layer of dust covered the door handle, making Mo Yu hesitate.

Ever since losing her memory, Mo Yu had forgotten her past life, Qing Xuan, everything connected to Qing Xuan, and the fact that she had been reborn. Everything was blurred; gone was the detachment she’d felt upon first awakening in this new life, the anger, and the fearless longing for confrontation. So...

She withdrew her hand from the handle, her spirits light, and made her way downstairs.

“If the ancestors went to such lengths to keep it sealed, I’ll respect their wishes,” she murmured.

Eggy had hoped she’d open the door. Even in the corridor, it could sense a comforting warmth emanating from within, as if something inside was calling to it. But seeing Mo Yu turn away without a second glance, Eggy could only grumble in protest, reluctantly rolling after her.

Mo Yu had just reached the stairwell when Eggy overtook her, rolling down the spiral steps with surprising speed.

“Hey, Eggy!” Mo Yu called, hurrying after it.

Eggy shot straight into Mo Yu’s arms and nestled there, not trying to escape, but instead nudging her back up the stairs.

Puzzled, Mo Yu followed. Eggy had grown up here, and surely knew more about this place than she did — perhaps following it would lead to unexpected discoveries. What she never imagined was that Eggy would lead her straight back to that dusty, boarded-up door.

Mo Yu sighed, torn between telling herself not to enter and the irresistible urge to see what lay beyond.

She placed her pale hand lightly on the handle, the contrast between her skin and the grime stark.

Suddenly, a powerful force sucked both her and Eggy through the door!

“Ugh, unlucky — curiosity really does kill the cat,” Mo Yu muttered before she lost consciousness.