Chapter 3: The Broken Home

Zhang Ye led Xiao Lan through the dense forest, his body aching with every step. The fight had drained him more than he wanted to admit. His muscles burned, and his breathing was uneven. This body is too weak.

But there was no time to rest. He needed answers.

He needed to see their home.

Xiao Lan clung to his sleeve, her tiny steps struggling to keep up. But she didn't complain. Even after everything, she just wiped her tears and followed him without hesitation.

Zhang Ye glanced at her. She's tough. Tougher than a child should have to be.

"Brother," she whispered, voice small. "Are you really okay?"

He hesitated. No. He was far from okay. He had died. Woken up in a new world. Fought off bandits in a body that barely functioned. His head was spinning with too many questions, and the only person who had answers was a little girl who thought he was her real brother.

But looking at her worried face, he couldn't say any of that.

So he smiled. "I'm fine, Xiao Lan. Just a little tired."

She bit her lip but nodded.

They walked in silence after that, the sound of leaves crunching under their feet the only thing filling the air. After what felt like an eternity, the trees began to thin.

Then a clearing.

Zhang Ye's steps slowed. His stomach twisted.

Ahead of them was a small, crumbling house.

The roof was partially caved in. The walls were covered in dirt and cracks. Smoke curled from a tiny chimney, but it barely seemed to hold itself together.

Xiao Lan's grip on his sleeve tightened. "Brother… we're home."

Zhang Ye stared at the run-down shack.

This was home?

He clenched his fists.

How the hell had they survived in a place like this?

Zhang Ye stood frozen, staring at the broken shack in front of him.

Home?

The word felt too small too kind for the place that barely looked livable. The wooden walls were rotting, parts of the roof sagged as if it could collapse at any moment, and the small chimney coughed out weak, struggling smoke.

His stomach twisted.

How the hell have they been surviving like this?

Xiao Lan hesitated beside him. "Brother…?"

He took a slow breath and forced himself to move. "Let's go inside."

She nodded, pulling him forward. The front door creaked loudly as she pushed it open.

The inside was just as bad as the outside. A single room. A tattered mat in the corner, likely their bed. A tiny wooden table with only one chair. A small fire pit for cooking, with a dented pot resting on the coals.

No food. No real furniture. Nothing.

Zhang Ye's fingers curled into fists.

Xiao Lan noticed his expression and shifted nervously. "It's not much, but it's warm when the fire is going." She smiled weakly, as if desperately trying to make it sound okay.

Zhang Ye exhaled. He crouched down, resting a hand on her small head.

"How long has it been like this?" he asked.

She hesitated. "…Since Mother passed."

His jaw tightened. The memories in his head were still blurry, fragmented, but he could feel the weight of those words.

Their mother had died. Their father had left.

And Xiao Lan this tiny, fragile girl had been surviving alone while his useless past self had done nothing.

Zhang Ye clenched his teeth. Not anymore.

His sister wouldn't live like this. Not while he was here.

He glanced around the shack, calculating. First, food. Then, money. And after that...a way to get stronger.

Xiao Lan fidgeted. "Brother…?"

Zhang Ye ruffled her hair. "Don't worry, Xiao Lan."

His eyes burned with new determination.

"From now on, we're going to live better."

Xiao Lan blinked up at him. "Better…?"

Zhang Ye nodded, standing up. "Yeah. First things first, we need food. What do we have left?"

Xiao Lan hesitated, then scurried over to a small wooden box in the corner. She lifted the lid carefully, revealing a few handfuls of uncooked rice and a single shrivelled potato.

That was it.

Zhang Ye's stomach tightened. No oil. No vegetables. No meat.

Xiao Lan bit her lip. "I was going to go pick some wild herbs tomorrow…"

Zhang Ye exhaled sharply. His little sister was foraging for food while he or rather, the past him had done nothing.

He pushed down his frustration. Getting angry won't fix anything.

"Forget the herbs," he said. "We'll need more than that. Is there a village nearby?"

Xiao Lan nodded. "Qinghe Village. It's about a half-hour walk from here."

Zhang Ye glanced outside. The sun was already dipping lower. Too late to go today.

"Alright. First thing in the morning, we'll go to the village," he said.

Xiao Lan looked up at him, uncertain. "But… we don't have money, Brother."

Zhang Ye crossed his arms. "Then we'll figure something out."

Xiao Lan still looked doubtful, but she nodded. "Okay."

Zhang Ye turned back to the rice box. Barely enough for a meal. He grabbed the pot near the fire pit and looked at his sister. "Let's cook what we have for now. You get the water, I'll start the fire."

Xiao Lan perked up and nodded quickly. "Okay!"

She hurried outside with a small clay jar, leaving Zhang Ye alone in the tiny shack.

His fists clenched. This isn't living.

But it wouldn't stay this way.

He'd make damn sure of that.

Zhang Ye crouched by the fire pit, grabbing a handful of dry twigs from the side. He arranged them carefully, then reached for the flint and steel nearby. His body moved on instinct his new memories filling in the gaps.

Scrape. Strike. Spark.

The fire flickered to life, small but steady. He fed it a few larger sticks, watching as the flames grew.

His mind, however, wasn't calm.

No money. No food. No strength.

Surviving was one thing but this wasn't survival. This was barely clinging on.

The past Zhang Ye had been weak. Powerless. He had let himself sink, waiting for things to change instead of making them change.

Zhang Ye clenched his jaw.

Not anymore.

The front door creaked open, and Xiao Lan walked in carefully, carrying the clay jar filled with water. Her small arms trembled slightly, but she didn't spill a drop.

Zhang Ye reached over and took it from her hands. "Good job."

She grinned, looking pleased with herself.

He poured the water into the old pot, added the last of the rice, and placed it over the fire. The water began to bubble slowly, filling the small shack with a faint warmth.

Xiao Lan sat beside him, hugging her knees. "Brother, do you think the village will let us work for food?"

Zhang Ye glanced at her. "Did you work for food before?"

She nodded. "Sometimes. But a lot of people don't want to hire kids."

Zhang Ye's grip on his knee tightened. She's already tried.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'll figure something out."

Xiao Lan tilted her head. "You… really are different, Brother."

Zhang Ye paused. "How so?"

She hesitated, then mumbled, "Before, you were… tired all the time. Like you didn't care anymore. But now, you…"

She trailed off, eyes searching his face.

Zhang Ye's chest tightened. The old Zhang Ye had given up.

He forced a smile. "I just woke up."

Xiao Lan studied him for a moment, then smiled back.

Zhang Ye watched the fire flicker.

Tomorrow, they would go to Qinghe Village.

And tomorrow, things would start changing.

The rice simmered over the fire, filling the tiny shack with a warm, faintly sweet aroma. It wasn't much I just soft grains floating in thin, starchy water but to Zhang Ye and Xiao Lan, it was everything right now.

Zhang Ye stirred the pot with a wooden spoon. One bowl each. No seconds. He ignored the hunger gnawing at his stomach and scooped some into a small wooden bowl, handing it to Xiao Lan first.

She took it carefully, blowing on the steam before taking a small sip.

"Mm!" Her eyes lit up. "It's good!"

Zhang Ye smirked. "It's just rice."

"But it tastes better today."

He paused, then glanced at his own bowl. Same rice. Same water. Same pot.

But Xiao Lan's smile was different.

He sighed and took a bite. Warm. Bland. But filling.

They ate in silence, the fire crackling softly between them.

After finishing, Xiao Lan carefully stacked their bowls to the side, yawning as she rubbed her eyes.

"You should sleep," Zhang Ye said. "Tomorrow, we have to wake up early."

Xiao Lan nodded, crawling onto the thin straw mat in the corner. She curled up, wrapping herself in a thin, patched-up blanket.

Zhang Ye sat by the fire, watching as her breathing slowed.

His fingers tapped against his knee. His mind wouldn't rest.

Tomorrow, we go to Qinghe Village.

He needed to find work. Or a way to make money fast.

But more than that he needed strength.

He looked down at his hands. The past him had nothing. No formal martial arts training. No sect, no clan, no teacher.

But Zhang Ye?

He had experience. Muscle memory. Instinct.

And something else.

Slowly, he reached for his chest, pulling out the black-and-white necklace.

It had brought him here. It had saved him.

What else could it do?

The firelight flickered across the surface of the strange artifact.

Zhang Ye exhaled.

Tomorrow.

Everything would change.