As for Lin Xi's request, it just so happened that Yao Xiran had a solution.
In the interstellar era, garbage planets were extremely dangerous places, perpetually filled with plunder and slaughter. And when you obtained things through killing, you always needed a place to offload the stolen goods.
When fencing stolen items, how could you reveal your true identity? Thus, all sorts of identity-concealing gadgets came into existence.
After some thought, Yao Xiran replied to Lin Xi:
[Interstellar Wanderer Yao Xiran: What I have here are all tech products. There’s one device that can alter a person’s physique and physical features. Once you use it before mailing anything, it shouldn’t be a problem.]
[There’s also a small program that, once installed on your neural computer, can protect your privacy and cut off all digital tracking.]
From her earlier conversations with Lin Xi and the others, Yao Xiran had already learned that each person could only exchange items with Lin Xi once per day.
Xiang Qianlan and Xu Huanhuan had already used up their one-time transfer quota when they confronted Chu Qianmo. Lin Duxi had also exhausted his transfer opportunity after kindly sending Chu Qianmo a genetic repair serum.
That left Lin Xi free to trade with Yao Xiran first.
Yao Xiran requested fruits, vegetables, and rice from Lin Xi.
[Interstellar Wanderer Yao Xiran: In the interstellar era, technology evolves so rapidly that everyone seems obsessed with progress. Traditional things—unable to keep up with humanity’s pace—have been left behind.]
[It’s like one day, people suddenly looked back and realized that in their pursuit of efficiency, they had abandoned real food for quick, convenient nutrient solutions. And in their rush for speed and mass production, they used technological shortcuts to force crops to grow unnaturally fast.]
[Things like hydroponic, soil-free rice and wheat that ripened in a month. The result of pushing technology too far? Now, all rice, wheat, vegetables, and fruits have lost their original flavors and textures.]
[Let me be honest with you all. When I earned my first paycheck, I immediately splurged on a pound of rice, a pound of vegetables, and a pound of meat.]
[I felt utterly cheated. Have you ever tasted rice with the texture of plastic? Or vegetables so bland they might as well be wax? Or meat so gamey it’s practically inedible?]
As she spoke, Yao Xiran’s face twisted in disgust. As someone born in Huaxia, the love of food was etched into her DNA.
Before tasting the so-called "food" of the interstellar era, all her efforts had been driven by the dream of enjoying a good meal.
But after experiencing interstellar "cuisine," Yao Xiran had nearly lost the will to live.
How torturous was a life without good food? Just as she was drowning in despair, she saw an advertisement: someone on the capital planet had successfully cultivated purely natural plants.
These specially nurtured plants had regained their original flavors and textures. To prove it, the company had set up a tasting channel on the virtual network—just one star-coin for a sample.
Though Yao Xiran suspected it was another scam by profit-driven corporations, she still gave it a try.
And just like that, she abandoned her suicidal thoughts. As the old saying goes, "A living dog is better than a dead lion." She reflected on why she was so afraid of death.
The memory of her previous death was seared into her mind—the feeling of a blade piercing her body, her blood draining away—was just too damn awful.
Yao Xiran wasn’t about to take her own life. She’d rather die fighting for territory or struggling for survival than by her own hand.
Afraid of death, yet unafraid—utterly contradictory.
Lin Duxi deeply empathized with Yao Xiran’s words. After transmigrating into a post-apocalyptic wasteland, he had been forced to survive on expired, spoiled, moldy, and rancid food. It was enough to make anyone lose hope.
Even now, their world still hadn’t managed to cultivate proper crops. Hearing Yao Xiran describe the hydroponic, accelerated-growth farming technology, Lin Duxi was intrigued.
He had exchanged plenty of supplies with Ye Bingbing, but their base had a large population, and outside its walls, countless others still struggled for basic sustenance.
In their wasteland world, flavor was a luxury—survival came first. Blandness didn’t matter; tastelessness didn’t matter. Staying alive was all that counted.
He requested the technology in the group chat. Since it was available for download on the virtual network for just a few star-coins, Yao Xiran agreed to send him a copy.
Lin Duxi paced excitedly around his room.
Meanwhile, while the others were still chatting, Lin Xi had already hopped onto her tricycle and headed out.
The local supermarket in Damingbao Village didn’t sell fresh fruit. To buy any, she had to leave the village and go to the open-air market.
It was past three in the afternoon—the market was winding down. Some vendors were packing up, while others lingered, hoping for last-minute sales.
Lin Xi walked through the stalls, buying ten pounds of every available fruit. At the vegetable section, she did the same—ten pounds of each type.
She didn’t skip the poultry and meat either. At the grain store, she loaded up with fifty-pound sacks of rice and flour.
Her tricycle was piled high by the time she left. As she neared the village, she veered into an uncut cornfield.
When she emerged, only a freshly slaughtered chicken remained in the cart.
Hidden in her bag were a bracelet and a USB drive.
Heart pounding with excitement, she rode back into the village. The covered bridge was, as usual, crowded with people. Lin Xi stopped to chat briefly before continuing home.
Chi Xiangping had already returned from visiting her elderly friends and was cooking dinner.
Since Lin Xi had mentioned craving rice broth, Chi Xiangping decided to steam the rice in a traditional wooden steamer.
She boiled water in a pot, added washed rice, and cooked it until the grains were soft but still slightly firm at the core. Then she drained the rice, separating the broth, and transferred the grains to the steamer.
Their rice was homegrown—a low-yield but fragrant variety. The rich aroma now filled the entire kitchen.
Chi Xiangping glanced at Lin Xi. "Where did you rush off to earlier?"
Lin Xi held up the chicken. "I was craving spicy stir-fried chicken."
"Then you handle it yourself." The chicken had been cleaned but not chopped. Lin Xi rolled up her sleeves, grabbed a cutting board, and set up by the sink.
Her family’s cutting board was older than she was. According to her grandmother, her father had carried it down from the mountains when he was seventeen.
The chopping board was said to be made of walnut wood, with an irregular shape. But its quality was exceptionally good—sturdy and durable. After years of chopping and hacking, it showed no signs of mold or excessive cuts.
In households like hers, the rule was simple: if something wasn’t broken, it wasn’t replaced. Lin Xi swiftly chopped chicken on the board, musing that it might even last until her children were born.
Though she didn’t even have a boyfriend yet.
Interstellar World.
Yao Xiran hurriedly closed the door of her repair shop and climbed upstairs via the internal staircase.
Her apartment was hers alone, and for privacy, she had installed numerous protective devices.
It was also for her obsession with food. She had set up a small, three-square-meter preservation room in her living space. The moment she opened it, a wave of cold air mixed with moisture rushed out.
Before receiving the supplies Lin Xi had sent over, Yao Xiran solemnly washed her hands and carefully applied an expensive hand cream she had splurged on.
Only then did she tap "Receive." Instantly, a batch of supplies materialized out of thin air, followed by the fragrant aroma of fresh fruits and vegetables—subtle yet overwhelming, lingering in the air.
Yao Xiran couldn’t help but take deep breaths. She plopped onto the floor, clutching an apple in her right hand and an orange in her left, closing her eyes as she inhaled the scents from both sides.
As she breathed in, her eyes grew moist. No one knew how much suffering Yao Xiran had endured after transmigrating into this era as a ten-year-old child, just to survive.
During the past five years, whenever she felt on the verge of collapse, she would immerse herself in memories of the food she had eaten in her previous life.
The more she reminisced, the more she longed for it—and it was this longing that kept her alive.
Enchanted, she stayed in the preservation room until a sneeze forced her out.
With great care, she used the kitchenware she had crafted in her spare time but never used before to cook a pot of porridge.
More rice, less water. As the grains softened, Yao Xiran’s stomach growled at the worst possible moment.
Waiting was agony. Yao Xiran could bury herself in the repair shop for an entire day, meticulously testing machine performance with endless patience.
She had always prided herself on her patience, but it was useless against the rich, tantalizing aroma.
Finally, the porridge was ready. Yao Xiran opened the interstellar-style rice cooker, quickly transferring the porridge to a cooling device using heat-resistant tools.
A minute later, the porridge had cooled, thickening into a sticky consistency. Thanks to the cooker’s high pressure, a layer of rice oil had even formed on the surface.
Eagerly, she scooped a bowl and took a bite. The taste she had dreamed of for years was finally real.
The overwhelming satisfaction nearly brought Yao Xiran to tears.
She savored each spoonful, finishing one bowl before serving herself another. By then, her stomach—accustomed only to nutrient solutions—was painfully full.
She packed the remaining porridge into three containers, locked her door, and headed downstairs to the neighboring building.
Years ago, she and a group of vulnerable children had banded together for survival. Her fierceness earned her the title of their leader.
Over time, their group remained unchanged—always four members, never adding or losing anyone.
Under her influence, they had all taken to reading extensively. Now, each had their own survival skills, and the repair shop was their joint venture.
For safety, they lived next to the shop in a three-story building, with each of the three occupying a floor.
"Boss, what brings you here?" A short-haired, lean, and healthy girl dashed out of a room the moment Yao Xiran stepped inside.
"Call your second and third brothers down. I’ve brought something good."
In Yao Xiran’s group, they addressed each other as siblings. She was the eldest, and the youngest was the girl before her—originally nameless, but later taking Yao Xiran’s surname and naming herself Yao Putao.
The name "Putao" (grape) was her own choice, inspired by a word she once saw in a book made of unknown material. She chose it simply because she imagined grapes must be delicious.
"Got it!" Yao Putao shouted, and soon, two slender boys descended from upstairs.
Yao Xiran opened the containers, releasing the trapped aroma. The scent of natural food—something Yao Putao and the others had never tasted—instantly made their mouths water.
"What is this?"
"Plain porridge," Yao Xiran replied, distributing it among them.
The three stared in disbelief, handling their portions with reverence and tentative curiosity before finally tasting it.
The simple, fragrant porridge, with nothing but the rich essence of rice, conquered their palates instantly.
Watching them, Yao Xiran smiled warmly, though her heart ached.
There were far too many people like Yao Putao and the others in the interstellar world—those who had never tasted natural food in their lives. In fact, they made up ninety percent of the population!
Even many in positions of power had never experienced authentic food.
That evening, Lin Xi dined on spicy stir-fried chicken and vegetable tofu soup bought from the market. After cleaning up, she joined the group chat.
Ye Bingbing, finally free from work, logged in and was surprised to see two new members. She greeted them, and Yao Xiran responded.
Chu Qianmo remained silent. Based on the group’s speculation, they concluded he must have ingested the genetic repair serum Lin Xi sent without reading the instructions.
Half a bottle of genetic repair serum was dangerously potent.
A single drop brought comfort, but excessive use, while effective, caused excruciating pain.
Chu Qianmo had consumed half a bottle—equivalent to having his bones, muscles, and organs shattered and reassembled.
The mere description sent shivers down everyone’s spines, filling them with deep sympathy for Chu Qianmo. Even his pretentious title no longer seemed so irritating.
After a brief moment of pity, Ye Bingbing began trading with Yao Xiran. High-tech gadgets? She wanted them too!
Cultivation World.
Chu Qianmo was in agony, the pain so intense he couldn’t even speak. A fit of coughing wracked his body, as if his organs were being torn apart.
At the peak of his suffering, he was certain he wouldn’t survive the day.
He had seen Lin Xi’s warning too late. If only he had waited two or three more seconds before drinking the genetic repair serum.
But regrets were useless now.
He didn’t want to die. Not after being reborn, even if ending up in this cultivation world was absurd—and his current identity made it even worse.
Since he was already here, Chu Qianmo still wanted to take a look at this cultivation world. In the past, he had only fantasized about what the cultivation world might be like while reading novels.
Driven by this thought, Chu Qianmo endured excruciating pain, cycling between passing out from the agony and waking up to it again and again.
By the time the pain finally subsided, he had no idea how long it had been. When he opened his eyes, he felt refreshed and clear-headed.
That constant feeling of being on the verge of death was completely gone.
He leapt up from the ground and walked out of the cave.
It was already night, with countless stars scattered across the sky. The surroundings were eerily quiet, save for the faint chirping of insects.
Chu Qianmo immediately turned back into the cave. Nights in the cultivation world were especially dangerous, and with only one life to spare, he wasn’t about to take unnecessary risks.
Back inside, he sat cross-legged and closed his eyes, summoning a space before him—filled to the brim with items.
This was the personal storage space the original owner had created, containing everything he had accumulated over years of struggle in the cultivation world. Normally, when the original owner died, the space should have dissipated along with him.
But by sheer coincidence, Chu Qianmo had arrived at the precise moment the original owner’s soul dispersed, leaving no time for the space to react.
Afterward, the original owner’s wives, in their haste to evade the pursuing cultivators of the Liuyun Sect, fled immediately after accomplishing their goal.
This gave Chu Qianmo a chance to catch his breath. He had hidden in this cave for so long without being discovered, leading him to wonder—was this some kind of beginner’s protection granted by the transmigration?
As he pondered, he began sorting through the items in the storage space.
When his eyes landed on a large wooden chest filled with spatial pouches, a thought flashed through his mind.
[Chu Qianmo the Wife-Slaying Cultivator: Brothers and sisters, I’m in need of food, supplies, shelter, heavy-duty weapons, and protective gear.]
[I’ll trade soul-bound spatial pouches for them! Guaranteed safe and secure!]
