Chapter One Perhaps, maybe, it is possible that hens grow up eating sand.

In the cramped kitchen, a slender figure busied herself with cheerful energy, like a diligent little bee. Before long, the air was filled with a tantalizing aroma. Xu Lin picked up a piece of egg, popped it into her mouth, and closed her almond-shaped eyes in delight, a satisfied smile blooming on her palm-sized face. Delicious—truly delicious. She took several more generous bites.

Noticing the eggs in the pan were already half gone, she waved her small hand, letting a handful of yellow sand trickle into the pot. Xu Lin grabbed the spatula and quickly stirred the eggs a dozen times. Once she was sure the sand had blended with the golden eggs, she beamed and plated the dish.

Perfect. The meal was ready; she could finally have dinner. Carrying the plate, she made her way to the main room.

“Come, come, time to eat, time to eat!” Xu Lin called from the dining table, her tone reminiscent of someone calling chickens or dogs.

Soon, several people emerged from their rooms. They ignored Xu Lin standing at the corner of the table, hurried over, and sat down, their fingers itching as they inhaled the savory scent.

Xu Lin glanced at those seated, deep hatred flickering in her eyes.

Yes, hatred. Xu Lin’s loathing for this family was carved into her bones, entwined with her soul. Not even a thousand lifetimes could dull it.

In her previous life, she had toiled for this family, working like an ox or a horse. As a child, she was burdened with the role of eldest sister, forced to become a surrogate mother. Before reaching five, she was made to do household chores; at six, she stood on a stool to cook. At first, her food was so unpalatable she was beaten until her skin split, scolded for wasting precious grain. It was only thanks to Aunt Guihua next door, who took pity and secretly taught her, that she learned to cook.

Her family had no intention of letting her attend school, but the neighborhood committee aunt intervened, persuading them until, at twelve, they finally allowed her to enroll. Her teacher disliked her original name and changed it to Xu Lin. Xu Lin was bright; she finished elementary school in just two years.

Yet even so, she only managed to complete elementary school before being forced to drop out—not because she failed to qualify for middle school, but because her younger sister, Xu Nuan, took her place. Xu Nuan had never liked studying and started school years before Xu Lin. Even when Xu Lin was accepted into middle school, Xu Nuan was still stuck in fourth grade, never scoring above twenty in any subject. If not for taking Xu Lin’s spot, Xu Nuan would never have made it to middle school.

After dropping out, besides housework, Xu Lin took on piecing paper boxes and sewing to earn money, never a moment’s rest. She believed her contributions more than justified her existence in this family.

If they possessed a shred of conscience, even if they didn’t care for her, they would have married her into a decent family. Even keeping all the dowry would have been acceptable.

But the Xu family refused, delaying her marriage until she was twenty-eight so she could keep working and earning for them. No, it wasn’t marriage—it was a sale. Sold to a cripple living deep in the mountains.

That cripple was a violent man, notorious for beating three wives to death. Xu Lin, too, was beaten to death within a year.

After her death, Xu Lin’s unwilling spirit wandered the earth, eventually drifting back to the Xu home. There, she overheard that she was not their child at all, but the real heiress switched at birth by the Xu family.

The true daughter enjoyed luxury and prosperity under Xu Lin’s stolen name. Most crucially, even her biological parents knew of her existence. But because her leg had been broken by Xu’s father and she was left crippled, that family abandoned the idea of reclaiming their real daughter, treating the switched child as their own and never caring whether Xu Lin lived or died.

In that moment, hatred flooded Xu Lin’s heart, drawing the attention of a system designed for cannon fodder to rise up.

The system told her that if she completed a thousand missions across different worlds, she could earn a chance at rebirth. Xu Lin, desperate for a new life, traveled with the system through countless worlds, living as one cannon fodder after another. She endured hardship and loneliness, mastering new skills to reverse her fate, until finally she finished the missions and was reborn.

At the moment of her rebirth, the system severed their bond and moved on to find a new host, but it left Xu Lin with a space—a ten-acre area complete with a spiritual spring, suitable for farming, livestock, and even supporting living people. Inside was a courtyard house she had built in an ancient world, plus a warehouse sealed with a time-stopping array. Anything stored there would remain fresh, never spoil.

Moreover, the skills she had learned in various worlds—some were retained, allowing her to protect herself after rebirth.

Xu Lin closed her eyes, suppressing the turbulent thoughts, and sat at the corner of the table.

“Why did you make so much porridge, you wasteful little wretch? Don’t you know grain is precious these days? Are you trying to eat it all in one sitting and starve the rest of us? How is your heart so black at such a young age? Raising you is worse than raising a pig—a pig would be more valuable,” Old Lady Xu cursed as she distributed the meal. This was her daily routine; no matter how much food there was, she had to scold someone before eating.

Without a round of scolding, it seemed none of them could stomach the meal.

Xu Lin’s almond eyes narrowed; her numb little face betrayed no emotion, as if she were long accustomed to such abuse. Xu’s father, mother, and two siblings all looked at her with contempt and disgust; not one spoke up for her.

Soon, Old Lady Xu finished dividing the porridge. Hers was thickest, while Xu Lin’s was so watery it reflected her face, not a single grain of rice visible.

Xu Lin pretended not to notice this injustice, staring blankly at the tabletop.

Old Lady Xu moved her chopsticks first; the others immediately followed, attacking the food as if storming a battlefield, chopsticks flashing everywhere.

Ah! The old lady clutched her mouth, pain making her eyes twitch. She hesitated, wanting to spit out the food but reluctant to waste the egg; she wanted to swallow, but it scratched her teeth. As she agonized over the decision, sounds of spitting echoed around the table.

Ah, spit, spit...

“What’s going on? Why are the eggs so gritty?” Xu’s father threw down his chopsticks, continuing to spit, feeling like he’d eaten a mouthful of sand.

“You wretched girl, how many eggshells did you break into this?” Xu’s mother spat out the egg into her palm, cursing as she picked through it, searching for shell fragments.

Xu Kun, her brother, spat out his egg and raised his hand to slap Xu Lin, but she dodged, and his palm struck the edge of the table. He howled, clutching his hand, feeling as though his palm was broken.

“Who told you to dodge, you useless thing?” Xu Kun shouted, cursing furiously.

The table erupted into a chorus of scolding and blame, lively as a market, but not a single voice spoke in Xu Lin’s defense.

“You wretched brat, what can you do right? You can’t even fry eggs properly—how did sand get into them?” Xu’s mother stared wide-eyed at the eggs in her palm; the rest did the same, finding sand in the eggs bizarre.

Soon, everyone’s gaze focused on Xu Lin. Xu’s mother demanded angrily, “Did you put sand in the eggs on purpose, you wretched girl?”

Xu Lin blinked her innocent eyes, refusing to admit it was deliberate. Instead, she explained softly, in a timid voice barely louder than a mosquito’s, “I didn’t, I really didn’t. Maybe, perhaps, the hens grew up eating sand?”