I pondered, could this thing be controlled by my consciousness? It really is high technology. Perhaps I had truly stumbled upon a heaven-sent fortune.
To test my theory, the thought of returning to that place appeared in my mind. Then, a flash of white light appeared, and I had indeed returned to that space. It really wasn't a dream.
Such a good thing, in the current circumstances, had truly given me another path to survival.
If it was controlled by consciousness, I thought, wouldn't it be better to move my whole house in here? The moment I had that thought, after a wave of white mist, my house, along with the yard and even the stream on the cliff face, were all moved here without a single detail out of place.
Was Grandpa inside? I rushed into the house and called out. Grandpa came out from the kitchen, looking a little surprised to see me. I tried to explain it to him. After listening, he went out to the yard and looked around. His eyes, a bit cloudy from age, showed none of the astonishment I felt.
He patted my shoulder and said in a low voice:
"You must never tell anyone about this. Be careful not to bring disaster upon yourself. These are not peaceful times; you have to be more cautious."
Even if he hadn't said it, I understood this principle. With such a strange experience, there was an eighty or ninety percent chance I'd be considered a madman if I told anyone.
Grandpa pondered for a moment, then looked at me and said with a sincere tone:
"It's good that you have this. When I'm gone, I can rest easy."
Hearing these words, the bridge of my nose stung. Grandpa is my only relative. Besides him, the only other person I cared about, Khang, was gone, and I didn't know where. If even Grandpa were gone, then I would truly have no connection left to this world.
At that point, if I could wait until times got better and Khang could live a good life, free from the hardships of now, I would move into this space myself and live alone until old age.
I had assumed the house in the real world would become an empty plot of land and was wondering how to explain it to others. Unexpectedly, when I exited the space, the house was still in its original place; only the animals in the pens were gone. It seems this thing is like copy and paste.
It wouldn't do to have no livestock at all, so I brought half of them out. People were short on food, let alone livestock, so it was normal for a few to starve to death. I brought out a few of the slightly older kid goats.
When I went to clean the pen, the goats were huddled together. I went closer to look and saw only a pile of white goat fur, nothing else. Listening closely, there seemed to be a faint whimpering sound. Could something else have been brought out with them?
I shooed the goats away and saw, on a pile of straw, a soft, white puppy with sparkling dark eyes looking at me.
"Woof woof… whim… whim…"
What kind of strange dog is this? Oh well, if it looks like a dog, I'll raise it like a dog. I've seen plenty of strange things already, one more won't hurt. This soft, white thing was very well-behaved, not crying or making a fuss.
Khang would surely love it. My heart sank. I wonder how that person is doing now.
The little thing in my arms was white and soft, so I decided to call it Banh Nep. With no powdered milk in reserve, I gave it some plain congee. It ate happily, its small mouth stuffed with congee, looking exactly like a certain someone when they ate.
When Grandpa saw me holding Banh Nep, he didn't say anything. The two of us had a tacit understanding: the world is vast, and anything can happen.
Banh Nep was only the size of my palm but already knew how to walk. It looked like a teacup puppy and always liked to weave around my feet. I was afraid of accidentally stepping on it and was about to scold it, but it seemed to understand human speech, looking up at me with its pure, dark eyes. I really had no defense against a gaze like that.
Banh Nep knew I wouldn't scold it and happily trotted after me. Grandpa was also very happy watching Banh Nep and would often play with it in his free time. Banh Nep was very well-behaved; it didn't bark much, nor did it bite people.
The strawberry patch I had planted for Khang was now fully ripe. Grandpa didn't like to eat them, and I wasn't very fond of this sweet and sour fruit either, so I picked some to take over to Fatty Bang's kids. When Fatty Bang's kids saw what was in my hands, every one of their eyes lit up. They were used to me, so they weren't shy, just a little bashful.
Fatty Bang said apologetically:
"You've helped me so many times, why be so formal like this."
I gave them to the kids. Little Van glanced at Fatty Bang, who had no choice but to nod. The little girl happily shared them with her siblings.
Although Fatty Bang was fat, he was very perceptive. This year, we couldn't even grow staple crops; where would I get the water to grow strawberries? He had probably noticed something unusual about my household, but he didn't ask. I trusted him as a person and was willing to lend him a hand.
Seeing I had no intention of speaking, he was very magnanimous about it.
"Why hasn't your little wife come back yet?"
Speaking of Khang, I also felt lost. He didn't leave anything behind and his departure was very sudden.
"I don't know. Maybe he's not coming back."
Seeing I was unhappy, Fatty Bang changed the subject, his expression turning grave.
"My older sister will be returning with the villagers in a few days. This time, I'm afraid we really don't know how much longer we can hold out."
We chatted for a while, and he tried to keep me for a meal. I appreciated his kindness but politely declined.
When I got home, Banh Nep, having not seen me for a while, jumped up and clung to my leg, refusing to let go. I've always been a sucker for little things that know how to act cute. Banh Nep took advantage of this and became more and more bold.