I’m Not Afraid of Transmigrating to the Seventies, My Pocket Dimension Is Huge

The 1970s, a pocket dimension, a few obnoxious people, and a pretty satisfying story. Lone wolf Chen Tuotuo had been having the same dream every night lately. In it, there was nothing but vast stretches of blank space. Actually, she wasn’t dreaming at all. She ate well every day and was in excellent health. Chen Tuotuo had a huge jade pendant with a pocket dimension inside it, passed down through her family. When her grandmother gave it to her, she said the pendant had to be claimed with blood. It had been handed down every other generation, from mother to daughter, never to a son. That meant Chen Tuotuo had to have a daughter, and that daughter had to have a daughter of her own. Chen Tuotuo figured the tradition was probably about to die out. After her grandmother passed away, Tuotuo pricked her finger to recognize her blood relative. No, wait, to claim the pendant as her own. The moment Chen Tuotuo stepped inside, she was stunned. There was a three-story Western-style house and a whole lot of warehouses, packed with every kind of food, clothing, and supplies imaginable. There was also the standard feature of any novel’s pocket dimension: a spiritual spring. One sip refreshed your mind; two sips made you tireless. There was food everywhere: sacks of rice, grains, vegetables, and more rice in cloth bags, mixed with dirt and grass. Even though Chen Tuotuo could eat herself to death and still never finish it all, she couldn’t let such a huge space go to waste. She had to get everything properly organized. She’d just spent all her money when she transmigrated. She ended up in the supposedly hungry, cold 1970s. But it seemed she was everyone’s favorite. Sure, she lived in a village, but she didn’t have to work, her family had a little money, and her parents and brothers looked after her. Come on, that was the life! But for that man, having so many brothers-in-law was going to be a bit of a challenge.