Chapter 182 Chapter 177 Daily Life
After several hours of research, reviewing numerous records about mysticism in her personal system panel, Jima finally found a way to cultivate dreams.
She gazed at the dream balloons not far away, emanating a pale white light. As they received the magical power Jima transmitted, they began to shine more brightly.
The light spilled into the void like paint, but was shaped into one mirrored image after another by an invisible hand.
Walls, computer chairs, wardrobes, windowsills gradually became clear, outlined in black and white.
Jima activated one, two, three… dream balloons, and their emitted light painted the entire neighborhood, radiating onto the surrounding streets.
Jima flew from her dream into the dream realm, spreading her wings and soaring into the sky. Below her, one by one, dream balloons lit up, and the black and white dream expanded outward, opening up new realms within the void of darkness.
Suddenly, Jima stopped, stretched her wings, and hovered in the air as the expansion of the dream also came to a halt.
She looked down, where the dream composed of black and white colors stretched extensively, covering the entire urban area. The main roads were straight, slicing through the city, while skyscrapers resembled dense forests.
It was too vast, so vast that Jima began to worry whether such a huge action would attract the attention of “extraordinary beings” on Earth.
Perhaps it would catch the eye of some hidden sect in the mountains or clouds, or it could be the chaotic abilities of certain supernatural beings, or even a stand-in messenger.
She felt a bit regretful, having forgotten to keep a low profile in her moment of joy. The dream was crucial for her; with dreams, she could teleport freely within the dream realm and easily hide within it.
Both safety and flexibility were greatly ensured.
Jima pushed aside her worries and soared through the dream, estimating the area of this dream.
This newly developed dream was small compared to the void, like a leaf floating in a silent, dark universe.
But after Jima’s rough estimation, its area was about two square kilometers.
How much magic did it consume?
Jima opened her personal system to check her remaining magical power, which was still at 88%. 1% of magic roughly equated to 2 square kilometers of dream, plus a height of about 500 meters, equating to a volume of 1 cubic kilometer.
She had no idea how much magic would be needed to cover the entire territory of Huaxia.
Jima had forgotten many memories of her past life, including the geographical area of Huaxia.
After finishing her tasks in the dream, she returned to her body, opened her eyes, and saw that the sky outside was already dimly bright.
Her stomach was also a bit “hungry,” not a true hunger but a desire for delicious food.
Although she didn’t know the exact start time for work, her intuition told her that there was still a long way to go before she needed to go to work.
She planned to make herself breakfast, recalling memories from her past life.
Without further ado, Jima opened her door and walked towards the communal kitchen, which had a refrigerator.
Opening the fridge, she found it nearly empty, with only a bag of noodles.
It seemed that the young people from her hometown had no cooking habits.
Jima took out the noodles and saw three or four cutting boards by the sink. One plastic cutting board looked familiar, so she decided to use it.
There were also many seasonings arranged in four or five piles, each pile belonging to an individual.
Wandering far from home, she would often attempt to recreate the home-cooked dishes from her memories.
One of the seasoning piles looked familiar, consisting of fermented tofu and several bottles of Lao Gan Ma. Jima took a small half-bottle of Lao Gan Ma, opened the lid, and the special aroma of oil and spice instantly made her inhale deeply, saliva spreading across her tongue.
She swallowed a mouthful of saliva, extending her long tongue into the Lao Gan Ma, diving into the black and red fermented soybeans. The unique spicy flavor seeped into her taste buds, awakening ancient memories.
The taste was delightful; it was a bit spicy, but not overly so—not like other spicy flavors that pierced her tongue and left it bleeding.
It turned out that I wasn’t averse to spicy food before.
Jima twisted her tongue inside and rolled the soft fermented soybeans into her mouth. Before long, she finished the small half-bottle of Lao Gan Ma, her tongue scraping the walls clean, leaving the bottle as spotless as new.
She turned on the faucet, filled a pot with clean water, and boiled it over high heat. Then she tossed in the noodles, cooking them soft, and added a few spoonfuls of monosodium glutamate—just because Jima wanted to enjoy the taste of it.
In this other world, she had tried numerous methods to extract umami flavor, including but not limited to drying and grinding sea intestines, but nothing compared to the purity of the monosodium glutamate she remembered.
After draining the cooked noodles, she placed them in a bowl, added soy sauce, poured in Lao Gan Ma, dropped in a piece of fermented tofu, and stirred it all together.
The appearance of the noodles matched her memories.
Jima picked up her chopsticks, twirling the noodles around and around, stuffing them into her mouth.
The taste was truly amazing.
Jima’s appetite opened up, and before long, she finished the entire bowl, feeling warm all over.
Living in a cramped space, interrupted while washing, and sharing a room with corpses… all the troubles faded away at the feeling of fullness.
It was rare to enjoy such a moment.
The wine from Rosen and the veal from Ista, freshly slaughtered and coming from the distant island of high elves, prepared by a top hobbit chef in red wine, couldn’t compare to this cheap stir-fried noodles.
It seemed that even in poverty, there were things that could inspire courage to face life.
Jima licked the sauce from the bottom of the bowl; it was salty and flavorful.
If only there were vegetables to balance it out.
As she thought, she glanced around and spotted a touch of green.
She then saw a small piece of ginger in the corner of the windowsill. Picking it up, she noticed the ginger had sprouted green shoots. There wasn’t much left, just a piece the size of a thumb, with shallow scars on it.
Though the ginger had grown new shoots nourished by sunlight and water, it was ultimately going to die. Without soil to draw nutrients, a knife would continue cutting away at its body.
The remaining nutrients within it had to be used to heal its wounds and support the new shoots.
A wave of sorrow washed over her heart.
After a while, Jima felt strange, realizing she could empathize with the sprouting ginger. Even though she had no pain when beheading a newborn baby, she felt sorrow now.
At that moment, the sadness awoke ancient memories.
The ginger was something she used to cut when she was still a mortal. Originally, when she saw the ginger sprouting green shoots, she wanted to bury it in the soil and replace it with another ginger.
But at the market, seeing the price of ginger, she hesitated and didn’t buy it.
In the end, to save that little bit of money, she cut the ginger piece by piece, suddenly feeling that living like this was truly pointless.
“That’s sad.” But Jima didn’t find it ridiculous.
She went downstairs, dug up some soil from the greenbelt, filled a bowl with it, buried the sprouting ginger, and sprinkled water on it.
To prevent any accidents, she cast a small “Maze Technique” on the potted plant to protect it from being harmed by mortals.
“When I have money later, I’ll make you a garden.”
Jima silently vowed, washed her face, and returned to her room.
Opening the snake-skin bag, she found that all the ice inside had melted; the water had disappeared, and Wan Ziqi’s pale face looked listlessly at Jima.
“They will jump off buildings next.”
Jima murmured to herself and used her “simulation” ability to create a bag of elemental ice—which would disappear when it melted.
She then zipped up the snake-skin bag, picked up her work ID, and slipped it into her pocket, only to realize that the evening dress she was wearing had no pockets. She hung the ID around her neck and went out into the street, asking around to find a place that repaired smartphones.
The owner said that both the inner and outer screens needed to be replaced, as there was significant damage, and he had no parts available.
Although Jima didn’t understand many of his words, she told him to do his best to fix the phone, no matter the cost, and the quicker, the better.
Her words were so inspiring that the owner directly hung a “closed for the day” sign and wholeheartedly set about repairing her broken phone.
Watching the repairman leave, Jima silently decided that if it was too expensive, she intended to skip out on the bill.
In the morning, the number of vehicles on the road increased, far surpassing that of Adolf’s carriage.
At the intersection, the traffic lights changed from red to green, and vehicles obediently stopped at the red light, maintaining order.
Jima had only seen this scene in White City, as the Domain of the God of Dawn includes order.
She paused to watch for a while, and after satisfying her curiosity, she noticed a bus stop by the road with many people waiting.
One of the largest buses she had ever seen rumbled over, and Jima looked at it with great curiosity.
It was a bus.
Her ancient memories returned, and the novelty of the bus faded.
Having no money on her, she walked according to her memories until she arrived at the subway station.
At the ticket counter.
Jima scanned the surroundings, found the youngest and prettiest woman, walked in front of her, casually told a lie, and successfully got her to pay for her subway ticket. She received a plastic card.
In front of the security check station, a long line of people was waiting to pass through a strange door. Jima stared at it, relying on her fragmented ancient memories to recall its function.
It was used to check for malicious individuals and the weapons they carried. Remembering the working principle was more challenging than using mysticism to set up a terrifying ritual.
As Jima approached the door, she suddenly recalled.
This door checked for “invisible light” that passed through the human body, while metals and some items could reflect “invisible light,” displaying any metallic weapons on a glowing screen.
Jima began to feel nervous; could this technological creation reveal her true identity?
She was armed to the teeth, with a straight branch tucked at her waist. Before she could hesitate, she stepped through the security check door, and it did not emit a sound.
Nothing happened at all.
Stepping onto the black escalator that could “automatically descend,” she headed underground.
Jima looked below with great interest, watching the steps meld together and disappear into the ground.
It was truly a sight for sore eyes.
Jima thought, recalling that this was called an escalator, and the novelty faded once again.
She walked alongside the subway, the doors were closed, and a large crowd stood in front of each entrance. People in blue uniforms were maintaining order, instructing the crowd to stand behind the white line.
There were so many people, it was almost comparable to being in a battle—a scene that could be recorded in history.
A subway train whistled in, stopping accurately as the doors opened.
The crowd surged into the subway, the sheer number of people and their speed were astonishing, yet there were no trampling incidents, which left Jima amazed.
In just a few blinks, the subway was filled with people. Looking at the wide-open doors, it was packed with humans.
I might as well fly myself.
Jima turned around and exited the subway station.
