Chapter Seven: The Legendary Realm

After having dinner at home and attending evening self-study, it was already past nine when Lin Xia returned to her little nest. By the time she had washed up and sat, fresh and clean, at her desk, it was ten o’clock.

She switched off the main light and turned on the desk lamp; immediately, the small room of a dozen or so square meters was bathed in a warm, gentle glow. As she absently teased A-Mao with her toes, she opened her English materials, pulled out some manuscript paper, and casually made corrections to the plans she’d written earlier.

A small electric fan sat on a nearby wooden chair, blowing a soothing breeze her way—quite comfortable, really.

The constant buzzing of a mosquito hovered at Lin Xia’s ear, but she barely paid it any mind. Compared to being reborn, such trivialities were hardly worth mentioning.

Every evening, Lin Xia’s mother would rid her room and Lin Hui’s of mosquitoes: first, by burning mosquito repellent tablets with the doors and windows tightly closed for over ten minutes; then, by lighting mosquito coils for another two hours.

By the time Lin Xia returned, there were no mosquitoes left, nor was the air thick with the scent of repellent.

Yet, as time went on, there would always be one or two mosquitoes that developed resistance and survived the ordeal. Of course, they usually met their end in Lin Xia’s merciless grasp.

Tonight’s mosquito was quite fortunate. It buzzed around Lin Xia’s ear for so long, yet she ignored it. Growing bold, it circled for a while before landing on her finger, not far from the ring she had bought at noon.

It feasted till its belly was full and, content, lingered lazily on her finger, unwilling to move.

As soon as Lin Xia noticed the mosquito, she killed it in a flash.

Such a large mosquito, and such a large stain of blood—all hers.

She looked at the corpse, tore off a small piece of tissue from the roll beside her, wrapped the remains, and then tore them to pieces.

Casually tossing the tissue into the wastebasket, she was about to return to her work.

But suddenly, everything changed. In a blink, she was no longer sitting on her familiar chair in her own room.

She found herself in a sealed space, about the same size as her bedroom. The walls, made of some unknown material, glimmered with a lustrous glow, illuminating the space completely.

So, Lin Xia could clearly see her surroundings. The room was empty—no windows, no doors, not a single living thing—just a pool of icy water.

Yes, a pool of cold water.

It occupied two-thirds of the room. Water continually welled up from the bottom, producing a steady stream of small bubbles. Strangely, the water always stayed just below the edge of the pool and never overflowed.

Lin Xia looked at the pool, then around the room. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t afraid.

She pressed her back against the wall, pushing hard as if hoping to find a door, but she dared not approach the pool, afraid something might emerge from it.

“Is there anyone here? Anyone at all?” She called out several times, her voice falling flat, not even an echo responding.

Terrified, Lin Xia crouched down. What was this place? She’d been in her own room just moments before, hadn’t she?

Having been given a second chance at life, she had no intention of dying here for nothing.

Thinking this, her fear lessened a little. This life was a gift—why not stay calm and try to figure out the reason for this strange situation?

What had she done before entering this bizarre place? What unusual things had happened today? She racked her brain.

Came home, showered, read at her desk, killed a mosquito, saw a large patch of blood—nothing out of the ordinary. She thought harder.

Attended class in the morning, bought a ring, had afternoon classes… Wait. The ring, the blood, her rebirth…

Lin Xia raised her right hand and looked at her index finger. The ring was gone, leaving behind only a faint, inky green mark, like a delicate tattoo.

Could the ring be the so-called space ring from the novels?

If it was a space ring, then all of this made sense. The mosquito had sucked her blood, some of it splattered onto the ring, and the ring acknowledged her as its master.

Heavens! To think something so miraculous would happen to her—she was more astonished than if she’d won five million in the lottery.

If this was, as in the novels, her own ring space, then it ought to be safe.

But the pressing matter was to get out. Every day, her mother would pop in under the flimsiest pretext—bringing apples, pears, bananas—to check whether she was studying properly.

If her mother came in and found her missing—not in her room or anywhere else in the house—what then?

This time, Lin Xia was truly desperate.

What to do, what to do?

After all these years, she was still living under her mother’s iron rule—she couldn’t even stay calm at a time like this.

By the time Lin Xia finally managed to calm herself, more than ten minutes had passed.

She recited every incantation from all the cultivation novels she’d ever read—even tried “Open Sesame”—but still found herself stuck in that place.

Her mouth was parched. In the end, she howled in frustration, silently wishing with all her might, “I want to leave this damned place.”

Then, in a flash of white light, everything spun.

Suddenly, she was sitting on her own chair again.

Finally home, she slumped into her seat and let out a long breath. But when she glanced at the clock on her desk, she froze.

Next came a surge of wild joy.

It was only ten minutes past ten.

She clearly remembered glancing at the clock before killing the mosquito—it had been exactly nine minutes past ten.

She must have spent at least an hour in that space, but now the clock still read ten past ten. What did this mean?

It meant her space was frozen in time. Was there any discovery in the world more delightful than this?

At that moment, Lin Xia was certain: she must have done countless good deeds in a previous life, and now Heaven was rewarding her.