A New Beginning in the Wasteland

"Huh? Where is this?" Tang Wen blinked as his head spun.

A shack?

Could it be that the flu had driven me into some sort of fevered hallucination?

His mind felt foggy. Maybe he should just lie down today, skip work… It's just 150 yuan, anyway.

Forget it. He needed to get up.

"Might as well earn money here in Nanzhou and spend it here too. Don't even think about taking a penny home," Tang Wen muttered to himself, pushing himself up from where he lay.

Wait... head of the bed?

Why does it feel like grass?

Tang Wen's eyes snapped open, and the moment he took in his surroundings, his body froze.

The faint morning light trickled through a roof—no, not a roof. It was the roof of a shack, made of thin, creaky planks.

With the little light that seeped in, he could barely make out his surroundings.

It was a small, irregular space, like a tent made of raw materials. The walls, made of mud, were rough and cracked. There wasn't any furniture—no table, no chairs. Just the dirt floor covered with dry grass.

His eyes then moved to the far corner, where a crooked earthen stove sat, and on it was a small, rusty iron pot. Seeing this, Tang Wen felt a tiny bit of relief. At least there was something familiar, even if it was just a household iron item.

In the corner opposite him, there was a figure huddled.

A woman?

Her skin was pale and thin, her body trembling.

Memories flooded into Tang Wen's mind, almost overwhelming him.

That woman was his sister.

This world was no longer as it had been. Civilization had crumbled, and the natural world had changed beyond recognition. People fought just to survive.

For a piece of meat, they risked their lives hunting down mutated creatures. The world had evolved, changing not only animals but humans as well, granting them strange abilities.

And then there was the "Flame Queen," a leader who had created a camp to help shelter those struggling to survive. However, Tang Wen was at the very edge of this camp, an underage, weak boy with no special abilities. He had no understanding of the extraordinary powers that others possessed.

The original owner of this body had once harbored a foolish dream of impressing the "Flame Queen," hoping to gain favor through impossible means.

But the more Tang Wen understood, the stranger the memories became. The original owner had even fantasized about humiliating himself to gain the Queen's favor, offering everything he had.

Had he really transmigrated?

Tang Wen pinched himself. The pain was sharp and real, and it made his face twist in realization.

Yes, he had transmigrated. He had become a weak, young boy in a brutal wasteland. His older sister, also weak, depended on him for survival.

Why had this happened to him?

His throat tightened with emotion. He lay back down on the dry grass, overwhelmed by a feeling of injustice. Tears welled in his eyes and began to streak down his cheeks.

Suddenly, his vision flickered.

A semi-transparent, gray screen appeared before him:

Name: Tang WenAge: 14 years, 9 monthsStrength: 0.3Spirit: 0.7Skills: Farming Mastery (719/1000)

What was this?

Tang Wen stared at the screen in disbelief, his mind racing. A system? Was this some kind of game interface?

Before he could fully process it...

Bang!

The wooden door shook violently, and a loud voice boomed, "Are you dead? If not, get out here!"

Tang Wen's heart skipped a beat. He had no choice but to sit up, realizing that there was no way to hide. The door was flimsy, and the man outside would surely see him.

"Coming, coming, I'm coming!" Tang Wen called, trying to steady his nerves.

His sister, sitting on the ground beside him, trembled, her thin arms wrapped around her legs. Her large eyes were full of concern.

Tang Wen took a deep breath and walked to the door. He removed the makeshift lock and pulled it open.

A burly man stood there, impatience written on his face. Behind him, two rough-looking guards with knives crossed their arms, eyeing him.

The man wore a black armband with the word "Management" stitched on it.

"Brother Li, good morning," Tang Wen said, remembering the man's name. He instinctively bent slightly, offering a nervous smile. His frail form seemed to shrink further.

"What good morning! Where's next month's rent?" the man barked.

Rent?

They collected rent here?

Tang Wen's face went pale as he recalled the details of the situation. The rent wasn't for the shack, but rather for living within the camp. If they didn't pay, they would be kicked out and left to survive in the wild. With mutated beasts roaming the land and dangerous scavengers lurking, that was a death sentence.

The original owner's family had long been dead. Tang Wen himself had no special skills to survive in this harsh world. He couldn't even scavenge effectively and often found himself with nothing to eat.

The guards outside gave him no time to think.

"Speak up! Are you mute? If you don't have it, get out!" the man shouted again.

"Yes, yes, I'll get it!" Tang Wen stammered, his heart pounding.

He turned back into the shack, where his sister sat silently, tears falling from her eyes. He ignored the sting in his chest and moved toward the corner of the room, where two small jars were hidden under a pile of dry grass.

He picked them up, shaking them lightly. One jar was full, the other half-empty. One contained seven pounds of grain. Together, they almost made up the ten pounds the man demanded.

Tang Wen grabbed the full jar and, from beneath his bed, pulled out a rusted iron rod. He walked back toward the door.

"Brother Li, I only have seven pounds of rice. I'll make up the rest with this iron rod. What do you think?" he asked, trying to sound calm.

Brother Li grabbed the rod from his hands and swung it in the air. Tang Wen instinctively hunched lower, his entire body tensing, heart racing. The rod was dangerously close to his head, and he could feel the weight of its threat.

With a sharp clang, the rod landed on his shoulder. The pain wasn't overwhelming, but it sent him stumbling, his arms clutching the jar of rice protectively.

"Next time, don't try to play tricks," Brother Li muttered, walking off without another word.

"Thank you, Brother Li! Thank you!" Tang Wen's voice trembled with relief.

The guards took the jar, poured the contents into a bag, and moved on to the next house.

As they left, Tang Wen looked down at his hand, where the red seal had been stamped—October. The mark, the date, felt like a bitter reminder of just how fragile his survival was in this unforgiving world.