After being treated like a good-for-nothing for eighteen years, Su Yuxi had accepted her lot.
With F-rank mental power, her whole family saw her as a bargaining chip for marriage alliances. Her fiancé was a marshal, but he didn't show up on their engagement day. The entire interstellar network was betting she wouldn't make it to the wedding.
Then she took a fall and awakened a supermarket space. Spicy hot pot, barbecue, hot pot base, cakes and desserts: all the modern foods she'd thought she could never eat again were inside.
She baked egg tarts, and the marshal's S-rank spirit beast, which ignored everyone else, crawled over and rolled onto its back at her feet. She made fish with pickled cabbage, and the officers who had survived for years on nutrient solutions fell silent for three seconds after eating. She served up a plate of braised pork, and Ling Hanye said, for the first time in his life, “Another bowl.”
Later, she really did marry him. After the wedding, the cold-faced marshal appeared at the kitchen door right on time every day. He said nothing, just waited for her to hand him a pair of chopsticks. When she was pregnant and couldn't stand the smell of cooking oil, he searched the archives of ancient Earth and personally made her plain rice porridge for three months. On the day their child was born, the coldest face in all the stars showed “panic” for the first time. On the first day Ling Nian'an learned to say “Mama,” he crouched expressionlessly beside the crib and watched for half an hour. Shuangying lay at his feet, wagging its tail like a fan.
Someone asked her how a good-for-nothing could live better than anyone else.
Su Yuxi leaned against the entrance to her shop, holding her baby, with the coldest marshal in all the stars standing behind her.
“Whether you live well has nothing to do with your mental power rank.” She bounced the baby in her arms and smiled. “It has to do with whether you've eaten well.”
