Dawn had not fully broken when Liú Tiānyuè opened her eyes.
For a moment, she lay still.
Listening.
Seven uneven breaths from the other side of the thin wall.
One deeper, controlled breath—Zhào Dàfēng.
Alive.
All of them alive.
Good.
But before she moved—
Memories surfaced.
Not dreams this time.
Records.
The final remnants of the original Liú Tiānyuè.
*****************************
The girl had been twenty years old.
The youngest of five daughters.
Born into a household that despised daughters.
Her parents had long prayed for sons—and when they finally came, two boys born after five girls, those boys became the center of the family's universe.
The brothers were fed first.
Given new shoes.
Allowed to study.
Praised for mediocrity.
The daughters were fed last.
Worked hardest.
Scolded most.
Among the five sisters, the youngest was treated worst of all.
Because she was mute.
Liú Tiānyuè had never spoken a word in her life.
No cries.
No laughter.
No protest.
No defense.
Her silence irritated her father.
Embarrassed her mother.
"She's defective," her father would say.
"She'll never marry well," her mother would sigh.
Her sisters at least could negotiate marriages.
But a mute girl?
She was considered damaged goods.
So she worked.
From sunrise to moonrise.
Fetching water.
Grinding grain.
Washing clothes in winter until her fingers cracked and bled.
She learned to read expressions instead of words.
Learned to shrink herself.
Learned that silence kept beatings shorter.
*****************************
The debt came quietly.
A failed harvest.
A loan taken from Zhào Dàfēng years earlier—when he was still the village's strongest hunter and had coin to spare.
Zhào Dàfēng had lent the money without hesitation.
He did not press for immediate repayment.
He never imagined he would be crippled one day.
But after his accident—
After Pān Xiùlán left—
After seven children needed tending—
He required a wife.
Not for romance.
For survival.
He needed someone to cook.
To clean.
To help care for the baby.
To manage what little they had.
And the debt still stood.
When Dàfēng approached Tiānyuè's parents, he did not demand repayment in coin.
He made a simple proposal.
"Give me your daughter in marriage. The debt will be cleared."
Tiānyuè's father did not hesitate.
"Take the mute one."
No dowry required.
No negotiation.
No farewell banquet.
Her mother did not cry.
Her brothers did not care.
Her sisters avoided her eyes.
She was handed over like a cracked bowl used to settle accounts.
*****************************
Dàfēng had not mistreated her.
He was distant.
Tired.
Polite.
He explained the situation plainly.
"I cannot give you much. But you will not be beaten in my house."
For the original Tiānyuè, that had been enough.
She had accepted quietly.
As she accepted everything.
*****************************
The memory faded.
Liú Tiānyuè—the Queen—sat up slowly.
A mute girl.
Unwanted.
Discarded to settle debt.
Her lips curved slightly.
How ironic.
The body they threw away now housed something far more valuable than gold.
*****************************
And then—
She felt it.
Not outside.
Inside.
A tug.
A resonance.
As if something vast waited behind a thin veil.
She focused.
The world shifted.
The mud walls disappeared.
The air changed.
Warm.
Rich.
Alive.
She stood in a different space entirely.
*****************************
The dimension stretched endlessly beneath a brilliant sky untouched by clouds.
Acres upon acres of fertile soil extended in every direction.
Crops grew in orderly rows—yet with unnatural abundance.
Millet.
Wheat.
Rice.
Soybeans.
Corn.
Cotton.
Flax.
Sesame.
Sugarcane.
Herbs of every kind.
Medicinal plants.
Spices.
All vibrant.
Oversized.
Leaves thick and glossy.
Grains heavy and full.
She reached down and plucked a stalk of wheat.
The moment it left the soil—
Another sprouted in its place.
Replenishing instantly.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
She walked further.
Orchards heavy with fruit.
Apple trees bending under their weight.
Peach blossoms fragrant in the air.
Vines thick with grapes.
In another section—
Livestock grazed calmly.
Cattle with sleek coats.
Sheep thick with wool.
Goats sturdy and alert.
Pigs well-fed and healthy.
Chickens scratching at rich soil.
Ducks near a clear pond.
Even several strong horses moved across distant pastureland.
And bees.
Thousands of them.
Hovering around wildflower fields, golden and industrious.
Honey would be abundant.
Nothing here appeared diseased.
Nothing appeared thin.
Everything radiated vitality.
The air itself felt nourishing.
This place was not merely farmland.
It was perfection.
A self-sustaining ecosystem.
And in the center—
A towering structure of smooth white stone rose toward the sky.
Elegant.
Ancient.
Imposing.
Unlike anything in Heze Village.
Its surface gleamed faintly as if carved from a material unknown to this world.
It was not crude like mortal architecture.
It felt… intentional.
Designed.
A gift.
Liú Tiānyuè stood still, absorbing it.
A portable dimension.
Bound to her.
Accessible by thought alone.
A sanctuary.
A treasury.
A weapon.
A kingdom.
The universe had not simply transported her.
It had armed her.
Her red-tinged eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Food.
Livestock.
Resources beyond measure.
Rapid replenishment.
No famine.
No dependence.
No vulnerability.
Seven starving children.
A crippled man.
An entire village that believed her weak.
Her lips curved slowly into a smile that was not gentle.
Very well.
If this world wished to play at survival—
She would redefine the rules.
The Zombie Queen turned toward the white stone building at the center of her new domain.
It was time to see what else the universe had given her.