Is he asleep or unconscious? Logically, he should be able to hear the knocking on the door. Is it intentional? Surely Uncle Seven from Guanjia Village could hear such a loud knocking?
Thinking that it might be intentional, Jiang Huashu didn't hesitate. He first walked to the window and pulled the window frame with his hand. If it couldn't be opened, he would just kick the door.
With a few "bang bang" sounds, the door of the main room was kicked open. Jiang Huashu entered the room and saw that there was no one in the room. Where did they go?
No, no, absolutely no!
The fact that the door can be locked from inside the house but there is no one there can only mean that this person may have entered the space, and he has the space!
Thinking of this possibility, Jiang Huashu gave up looking for someone. He simply repaired the broken door to the main hall and sat down on a chair next to the eight-immortal table in the main hall to wait. He even took out a book from his space to read to pass the time. After all, he could go home through the space, so there was no rush to go back even if he waited until dark.
Jiang Huashu waited at Zhang Xiaobao's house for two days. He never left the room except for going into the space to take a shower, change clothes, eat, and go to the toilet. On the third day, Zhang Xiaobao finally showed up.
Jiang Huashu was reading an exciting part of the novel when he felt some movement in the house. It felt like there was suddenly one more person in the room. He thought to himself: She's back.
There was a curtain hanging on the door to the right of the main hall. At this moment, an elderly man lifted the curtain and walked out. When he saw Jiang Huashu, he was startled.
He stared at Jiang Huashu in disbelief with his eyes wide open, then looked around and calmed himself down after confirming that this was his home.
Jiang Huashu still held the open novel in his hand and looked at Zhang Xiaobao's reaction without saying a word.
Zhang Xiaobao was also embarrassed at the moment, but this was his home after all, so he had to ask who the other party was, why they were in his home, and what they wanted from him. Then he asked.
After about twenty seconds, Jiang Huashu closed the novel, raised his head and looked directly at Zhang Xiaobao, and immediately launched his ultimate move: "You came from a different world? You know Jiang Huashu? You have a space?"
Zhang Xiaobao's wrinkled face suddenly tightened upon hearing this, and he stared at Jiang Huashu with wide eyes: "You, you, how do you know I traveled through time?? You are Jiang Huashu? Did you see the letter I wrote to you? Who are you?"
"You haven't answered me yet! Don't refuse a toast and then drink a forfeit!" Jiang Huashu slammed the table so hard that it shook.
"I came from a different time. I know him, but I don't know him either. Oh, anyway, I know what's going on with him! Who are you?"
The old man spoke incoherently, confusing Jiang Huashu.
"Do you know him or not?" Zhang Xiaobao got scared when he saw the aura of a big boss who had been in the modern business world for decades.
"Who are you?" The old man was too scared to speak.
Jiang Huashu's face was ruthless: "Don't worry about who I am. The hatred between Jiang Huashu and I is not something you can resolve. I know you have space. Tell me what you know quickly. Otherwise, if I take you to a place where you can talk, it won't be as easy as it is now."
Hearing this, Zhang Xiaobao gasped, startled. He'd thought it was Jiang Huashu who had come looking for him. If he hadn't been running out of material for his novel, he'd have never imagined they'd actually be there. He'd originally intended to portray himself as someone exceptionally capable, but he'd been unlucky enough to travel through time with Jiang Huashu and his family, transported to the body of an elderly man returning home from work in Kyoto. Then, somehow, something went wrong, a major bug: he couldn't leave this village. Once he reached the edge, he couldn't leave. It was as if an invisible, transparent shield prevented him from leaving. But he had a portable space, a setting he'd created for himself in his own novel. In the novel, he was a powerful figure, capable of controlling the wind and rain, capable of cultivating crops, spiritual springs, and even cultivating immortality. He'd been writing the novel for his own amusement, never thinking of including himself. He'd written a space that could connect the past and present. Alas, what a mistake!
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
