Chapter 2 | The Weight of Half a Bag of Cornmeal

Li Xing didn't immediately agree to the word "line."

[Confirm Binding?]

The voice seemed glued to his head, cold and still, devoid of any emotion.

He sat on the edge of the kang (heated brick bed), his palms slowly sweating.

Having lived two lives, he knew one thing very well—the more something seems like a lifeline, the more likely it is to be a noose.

"Xingzi?"

His mother's voice pulled him back to reality.

"Why are you so pale? Didn't you sleep well again last night?"

Li Xing shook his head.

"It's nothing."

His voice was a little hoarse when he said this.

His mother sighed, took the empty bowl from him, and touched his forehead.

"As long as you don't have a fever."

"I'll go to the factory and see if I can borrow some grain."

The moment the door closed, the room became completely silent.

So quiet that he could hear his own heartbeat.

Thump, thump, thump.

Each beat heavier than the last.

He closed his eyes. [Binding Confirmed.]

No lightning flashed.

No unusual phenomena occurred.

Just a new "place" suddenly appeared in his mind.

It wasn't large, like an empty room without windows, surrounded by blurry gray borders, the ground beneath his feet made of an indistinct material.

[Space Copying - Binding Completed]

[Current Level: I]

[Target for Copying: Non-living physical object (Low Risk)]

[Copying Time Limit: 24 hours]

[Failure Penalty: Mental Strength Reduction]

Li Xing opened his eyes, his heartbeat slowing down.

Too calm.

Calmness that didn't feel like a gift, more like an instruction manual.

He got up from the kang (heated brick bed), his feet sinking into the cold mud, and couldn't help but shiver.

Beside the wooden cabinet in the corner of the room, leaned a worn burlap sack.

Inside was the last bit of cornmeal in the house.

He remembered clearly.

Half a sack, less than ten pounds.

His mother meticulously planned every meal.

Even a single extra spoonful was a sin.

Li Xing squatted down and untied the burlap sack.

The cornmeal was slightly damp, dark in color, and crumbled into tiny pieces when rubbed between his fingertips.

He took a deep breath.

[Target confirmed: Cornmeal]

[Quantity: Approximately 4.5 kg]

[Risk Assessment: Low]

[Execute Copy?]

"Execute."

The moment the words left his mouth, his head suddenly felt heavy.

It was as if someone had covered his head with a damp cloth.

His vision went black, and his ears rang.

He instinctively grabbed the cabinet, his knuckles turning white.

A few seconds later, the dizziness slowly subsided.

Li Xing looked down.

The original burlap sack was still there.

But in the space of his consciousness, there was an identical shadow—

The same burlap sack.

The same weight.

The same dampness. [Copy Complete]

[Countdown: 23:59:58]

His heart skipped a beat.

Not elation, but lingering fear.

This thing was real.

He tried to "remove" it.

The next second, a burlap sack appeared beside the kang (heated brick bed).

The sound of it hitting the ground was soft.

But to Li Xing, it sounded frighteningly heavy.

He reached out to touch it.

The texture was real.

The weight was real.

The smell of cornmeal was even more distinct than the original sack.

His throat tightened.

At that moment, he suddenly understood one thing—

This wasn't created out of thin air.

This was a "shadow" forcibly carved out from the rules of reality.

Time had begun to count down for it.

Li Xing stuffed the copied burlap sack back into his spatial storage.

He dared not leave it in the room.

It was too dangerous.

The room was so small; it would be easily visible.

At noon, his mother returned.

Her complexion was poor, but she carried a small cloth bag.

"I borrowed two jin of sorghum."

She gave a bitter smile. "I have to pay it back next month."

Li Xing nodded and took the bag.

"Mom."

"Hmm?"

"From now on, I'll find a way to provide food for the family."

His mother glanced at him, neither smiling nor refuting.

But for a moment, a complex emotion flickered in her eyes.

Like worry, or perhaps disbelief.

That night, his father coughed violently in the inner room.

Li Xing lay on the kang (heated brick bed), eyes open, staring at the dark beams.

The countdown in his mind ticked away, second by second.

[23:12:07]

[23:12:06]

He suddenly realized—

If the things disappeared by this time tomorrow,

Every bite they ate today,

would become a debt they had to repay.

The weight of half a bag of cornmeal pressed down on his shoulders for the first time.