Chapter Forty-Nine: Past Lives and Present Destinies

Gu Qingzhou’s fingers moved slightly, and a faint green barrier appeared within the valley.

“Third Brother, come here,” she called, gesturing to Gu Qingsong.

Gu Qingsong gritted his teeth and climbed to his feet, shuffling step by step to stand beside Gu Qingzhou.

“Stretch out your hand,” Gu Qingzhou said again.

Obeying, Gu Qingsong extended his right hand. A blade of wind swept across his fingertip, and bright crimson blood dripped down.

Gu Qingzhou’s brows were furrowed, her slender fingers forming an intricate series of gestures. On the green barrier, archaic script appeared—the character for “Gu,” as she had once seen on the wooden plaque.

The blood, drawn by a mysterious force, landed on the “Gu” character and quickly vanished without a trace.

At that moment, Gu Qingsong, who had been standing beside Gu Qingzhou, disappeared as well.

Is this the entrance to the ancestral land? The thought had barely flickered through Gu Weiyu’s mind when she heard the elder call her Fourth Sister and Sixth Brother over, repeating the same process to let them enter the ancestral ground.

“Weiyu, it’s your turn.” Soon, only Gu Weiyu and the elder remained outside.

Gu Weiyu walked slowly to him and, without needing to be told, obediently stretched out her hand.

A wind blade brushed her fingertip, bringing a slight sting, and a drop of blood fell.

She watched her blood merge into the ancient “Gu” character and felt a wave of dizziness. Her vision went dark…

When she opened her eyes again, she found herself surrounded by countless colorful bubbles—red, green, purple, yellow—all hues, but the red, green, and purple bubbles were most numerous.

Her gaze lingered on the bubbles. Remembering the words of her third grandfather, she carefully sensed them and discovered that the red, green, and purple bubbles called to her most strongly.

One bubble, a deep violet, emanated a peculiar sensation, drawing her closer.

Gu Weiyu decided to follow her heart and reached out to lightly touch the purple bubble.

Unexpectedly, the bubble burst with a soft pop at her touch, dissolving into faint violet specks of light that entered her body.

The remaining bubbles vanished instantly, and her surroundings changed again—she now stood in a grand garden.

Looking down, she was stunned to see a plant: it was purple xuan grass, a specimen over a hundred years old!

What amazed her more was that there wasn’t just one plant, but a small patch—at least a hundred grew together!

Looking to the other side, she saw a thicket of century-old fig trees, also numbering in the hundreds.

Scanning the expanse, she realized this wasn’t a garden, but a field of medicinal herbs!

Her heart thumped wildly; if she could gather these spiritual herbs, how many contribution points might she earn?

She crouched, then stood up again. Something wasn’t right—these herbs grew in neat patches, clearly cultivated, not wild. This was a tended field, not a random bounty.

Gradually, her excitement faded, and the clarity lost to the “unexpected joy” returned.

Purple xuan grass loved sunlight, while figs thrived in shade—two spiritual herbs with entirely opposite needs growing harmoniously together? Something was amiss!

Gu Weiyu finally understood: she was inside the ancestral land. Where would there be a medicinal herb field here?

The herbs before her gradually faded away, and a winding path appeared.

A chill ran through her heart. If she had lost herself and harvested those herbs, would she have forfeited her chance at destiny?

She eyed the path before her and carefully stepped onto it.

Following the winding trail, she entered a house, and everything inside struck her as strangely familiar.

It was a tall, dark gray building. She stood in the lobby, heavy raindrops battering the windows with a noisy, relentless sound.

A flood of memories surged from her mind—things once blurred and forgotten resurfaced.

She looked outside. The falling rain was eerily red; it wasn’t rain, but acid rain!

The rain outside seemed endless, pouring incessantly.

She walked dazedly to the window and looked down: the building she was in was submerged, and from her vantage point on the twenty-fifth floor, she saw the water had risen nearly to the twentieth.

The daily broadcast played in the lobby, promising the rescue team would arrive soon. It should be any moment now.

Because humanity, unchecked, polluted and destroyed the environment, the rain outside was highly acidic and corrosive; going out in the rain had become a luxury for ordinary people.

As someone frail from birth, Gu Weiyu had reached sixteen years old, and could count on one hand the times she’d left her room.

“Master, it’s time for your meal, time for your meal…” an electronic voice echoed in the empty house.

Gu Weiyu left the window, walked to the refrigerator on the right side of the lobby, and took out a tube of pale pink nutrient solution, warming it up in the microwave.

Once the warm nutrient entered her mouth, her stomach quickly felt full.

The taste was oddly familiar, making her reluctant to let it go.

She sat down on the sofa, gazing at the pale blue screen opposite. She instinctively called out, “Little Su—”

Robot model 30108, named Winter Melon Su, affectionately known as Little Su, waddled from the corner to the center of the living room.

Round and plump, it did resemble a winter melon. Its mechanical eyes elongated into tubes, glowing with a blue light, and at the same time, it projected an MV onto the wall, playing automatically.

Gu Weiyu’s eyes lingered on Little Su, while the gentle voice of the singer filled her ears.

She knew, too, that with just a slight shake of her head, the screen would switch to the next song.

She listened intently; in the entire room, aside from the MV’s sound, there was nothing else.

Crack—crack—one snap after another broke the silence. Winter Melon Su was the first to notice anything amiss; its round head spun 180 degrees toward the source of the sound, and instantly it issued a rapid warning, “Master, please be careful! Danger—quick…”

The warning was cut short. Gu Weiyu instinctively turned her head and saw the living room window shattered, and a surge of red waves poured in.

The robot nearest the window was hit first; the torrent slammed it against the wall, and the red wave corroded it, silencing it instantly.

“Little Su!” Gu Weiyu’s heart ached. Little Su had been with her since her earliest memories, her only “family.”

She stood up impulsively and hurried toward Little Su.

The crack in the window widened, and the furious red tide flooded the room, waves crashing one after another. Gu Weiyu scooped up Little Su, but the overwhelming red torrent swept over her, engulfing her in an instant.

Her world went black. Tears streamed down her face as she lowered her head—her arms were empty. Little Su—

The house before her had vanished.

She stood dumbfounded, uncertain for a moment whether she was Gu Weiyu or Gu Weiyu.