Once everything had been settled, the village chief lifted his hand and gave a firm wave.
"Distribute the rice," he declared. "Let everyone eat."
No one needed urging twice.
The forty-two villagers formed a line outside Gao Yiye's humble dwelling. They stood in uneasy excitement, clutching baskets, bowls, and whatever containers they possessed. Their eyes remained fixed on the towering white grains before them, each one larger than a millstone.
Up close, the rice seemed even more unreal.
It gleamed faintly beneath the dry sun, smooth and unblemished. No villager in Gao Family Village had ever seen such perfect grain.
Each person received ten grains.
Ten.
That was enough to sustain a household for many days.
Yet receiving it was no simple matter.
Each grain was so large and heavy that carrying it outright was impossible. The villagers had no choice but to roll them along the ground, pushing with both hands, stopping often to gasp for breath. Some leaned their full weight against the grain, their thin arms trembling with effort. Others worked in pairs, faces red and slick with sweat.
Even so, it took ten separate trips for each household to move their full allotment home.
By the time the last villager had finished, a considerable mound of rice still remained in front of Gao Yiye's house. Dozens of grains lay piled together like pale boulders.
No one spoke of fairness.
No one questioned it.
In their eyes, Gao Yiye was no longer merely a villager.
She was the one chosen by Tianzun.
Such a person stood apart from ordinary mortals.
To doubt her was unthinkable.
Soon, thin columns of smoke began rising from the crude chimneys scattered throughout the village.
Families set water to boil.
A single grain of rice could not be cooked whole. It had to be broken apart first. Men fetched chisels and stones, carefully striking the grain to chip away fragments. Each fragment, once separated, was still large enough to fill both hands.
Even so, the villagers did not cook it alone.
They added wild greens.
They added strips of bark.
They added bitter roots pulled from the hard earth.
Not because they wished to.
Because they did not dare waste it.
If mixed carefully, one portion of rice could stretch across two meals.
From above, Li Daoxuan watched through his magnifying lens.
He frowned.
What a miserable way to eat.
He had given them proper rice, yet they insisted on mixing it with such things.
Their caution bordered on absurdity.
For a moment, he considered dropping a piece of pork into the box.
He even rose from his chair.
Then he stopped.
These people had endured prolonged starvation. Their bodies were weak. Their stomachs fragile. Rich meat might do more harm than good. If they fell ill now, they might not survive it.
He sat back down.
Better to let them recover slowly.
Below, however, the villagers knew nothing of his concerns.
To them, this meal was beyond imagining.
Families carried their bowls outside. They sat in front of their homes, no longer hiding behind closed doors. There was no need for secrecy now. Everyone had received Tianzun's blessing. No one needed to envy another.
Voices filled the village once more.
Laughter returned.
The chief sat outside his home, chewing slowly.
"This rice…" he murmured.
He closed his eyes briefly.
"It is more fragrant than any I have tasted."
He swallowed.
"Tianzun's gift is truly sacred."
Nearby, Gao Chuwu crouched over an enormous bowl.
He ate with frightening speed.
His strong frame demanded more food than the others. While entire families shared a modest portion, he consumed the same amount alone. He shoveled rice into his mouth without pause, barely chewing.
A few villagers watched him nervously.
They feared he might choke himself to death.
Gao Yiye sat apart from the others.
She held her bowl carefully in both hands.
Each bite was small.
Each bite deliberate.
Tears slid silently down her cheeks.
"Mother," she whispered.
Her voice trembled.
"If only you could taste this."
Above them, Li Daoxuan ate his own meal.
Braised beef over rice.
It was nothing special. A simple takeaway, bought for twenty-nine yuan. Tender beef. Soft radish. Pickled vegetables on the side. A bottle of cola.
Ordinary.
Yet tonight, it tasted different.
Better.
He glanced at the villagers as he chewed.
Their joy was so simple.
So fragile.
After nightfall, the village gradually grew quiet.
One by one, lamps dimmed.
Doors closed.
The villagers lay down fully clothed, too exhausted to bother changing. Water was too precious to waste on washing. Even drinking required care.
Soon, the miniature world became still once more.
Li Daoxuan stretched and yawned.
He had spent nearly the entire day watching them.
This box had become strangely difficult to ignore.
He picked up his phone and opened the photograph he had taken earlier. After a moment's hesitation, he uploaded it anonymously to a historical forum.
He added a brief message.
"Does anyone recognize the setting of this village?"
Replies appeared quickly.
"The officials look like Ming yamen runners."
"The names fit the Ming period."
"The details are very accurate."
"It must be Ming Dynasty."
Li Daoxuan leaned back.
Ming Dynasty.
The thought lingered.
He glanced toward the box.
Could it truly be so?
He shook his head.
Impossible.
Eventually, sleep claimed him.
Morning came swiftly.
Li Daoxuan woke and turned his head immediately.
The box stood beside his bed.
Inside, the village was already awake.
Gao Chuwu and several young men sat together, eating their morning meal. They ate heartily, preparing themselves for the journey ahead. The village chief stood nearby, speaking in a low, serious voice, repeating his instructions.
Others prepared baskets.
They would go searching for wild greens again.
Li Daoxuan sighed softly.
Even now, they lived day to day.
Survival consumed everything.
He rose and walked to the refrigerator.
After opening it, he took out a head of napa cabbage.
He tore off one large leaf.
Then he returned.
Gao Yiye was just stepping beyond the village entrance when the sky darkened.
A vast hand descended.
The villagers froze.
The hand moved with slow, deliberate care.
It placed something upon the earth.
Then withdrew.
Before Gao Yiye lay a single cabbage leaf.
It stretched across the ground like a fallen green banner.
Its veins were thicker than tree trunks.
Its edges extended far beyond her sight.
She stood motionless.
Her breath caught in her throat.
"Tianzun…" she whispered.