Evelyn chased after Adrian, the heavy military overcoat clutched in her arms. Julian made a move to follow, but his feet felt like lead. Recalling the feral intensity in her eyes—and the lingering throb in his groin—he thought better of it. He would wait. He had to wait.

After Adrian dropped off the supplies, he departed for the township in a hurry, citing urgent business. Evelyn had already been mentally reciting recipes to thank him, but with her "patron" gone, she turned her attention to the spoils of war. She ran her fingers through the thick wool lining of the coat Seraphina had coveted so desperately. It was soft, plush, and radiated a steady warmth.

Regardless of how much calculation went into her relationship with Adrian, she was a woman of principle: if he treated her well, she would return the favor in kind.

That afternoon, Evelyn headed for the hills with a wood-chopping blade tucked into her belt and a wicker basket strapped to her back. Since the grueling wheat harvest, she hadn't ventured into the mountains much. The ecosystem here was lush, teeming with wildlife, though she hadn't stumbled upon wild ginseng since that first lucky strike.

However, she had discovered a new use for her Spirit Spring. Any patch of earth she watered with it didn't just grow vibrant; it became a beacon for small animals. She had intentionally "blessed" several spots near the village, leading to a sudden streak of luck for the locals catching pheasants and hares.

But for herself, Evelyn chose the deep, untrodden thickets. Others feared the shadows of the high peaks, but with her spatial dimension as a sanctuary, she was fearless.

As she neared her hidden clearing, she froze. A black bear.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. A bear? They usually kept to the ridges above a thousand meters. What was it doing down here? She didn't stay to find out; she vanished into her space instantly, waiting an eternity before venturing back out. When she finally emerged, the beast was gone.

She pressed on to her destination. After a month of "irrigation," the clearing was a miracle of emerald green—a pocket of springtime hidden amidst the yellowing autumn grass.

It was a paradise. Pheasants took flight at her approach, rabbits darted through the underbrush, and she even spotted the bushy tail of a wild fox. Water and rich fodder were the ultimate lures. Evelyn scoured the perimeter, raiding four pheasant nests and pocketing nearly sixty eggs.

Catching a rabbit by hand was beyond her speed—she’d tried pouncing on a pheasant earlier and ended up with a mouthful of dirt—but she knew how to find their warrens. She located a burrow on high ground, its entrance hidden by fresh earth and dry grass.

A crafty rabbit has three holes, the old saying went. Evelyn found the escape tunnels and plugged them with stones. She widened the main entrance to fit her basket, grabbed a handful of birch bark from her space, lit it, and tossed the smoking embers into the hole.

She waited, poised. Moments later, a frantic blur of fur shot straight into her basket.

With a flick of her wrist, she sent the basket into her space. She had learned through trial and error that living creatures died instantly upon entering that dimension—a clean, merciful end. Four rabbits and dozens of eggs later, she decided it was a productive haul. Looking at the lush grass, she resolved to return and dig a few proper pitfalls.

The sun was dipping below the horizon when she returned. Tess had been looking for her all afternoon and was waiting by the gate.

Evelyn’s basket was topped with a fresh rabbit and a bundle of wild mountain garlic—perfect for dipping sauces, soups, or pickling. Tess’s eyes went wide. "You caught a rabbit?" she whispered, her voice a mix of shock and delight.

Evelyn nodded with a secretive smile. The Production Brigade usually turned a blind eye to small catches from the mountain, but the smell of roasting meat was a different story. That was why Evelyn always cooked in bulk and hid the surplus in her space.

"Come by tonight," Evelyn whispered. "I’m making spicy rabbit."

Tess swallowed hard but shook her head, blushing. "No, you should keep it for yourself."

"Didn't your family send me some rabbit last time?" Evelyn countered.

Tess, still too shy to accept, turned and bolted back to her house.

Inside, Evelyn got to work. She prepared all four rabbits, the searing, spicy aroma wafting through the thin walls until the entire Barrett household was salivating.

Next door, Lucas, Tess’s brother, swallowed a dry potato while inhaling the spicy air, using the scent to flavor his meager meal. Tess sat fidgeting, wondering if it would be rude to just show up. Her sister-in-law, Amy, took a loud, aggressive slurp of corn porridge. "Mom! You gave Evelyn half a bowl of meat last time!"

Amy had been sour about that gesture for days. Meat was a luxury, and in her eyes, giving it away was an act of madness. She hadn't smiled at Evelyn since.

Martha, the matriarch, dipped a piece of wild garlic into bean paste. "And where do you think this garlic came from? Evelyn brought it over."

Amy scoffed. "Wild garlic isn't rabbit meat, Mom. Stop being so foolish with our food. You treat her like family, but I bet she doesn't think of us that way."

A moment later, there was a knock. Evelyn returned from the door carrying a massive bowl piled high with succulent, spicy rabbit.

Martha’s expression was calm, as if she had expected nothing less. Her previous gift to Evelyn had been a small bowl; Evelyn had returned a serving that accounted for at least a third of a whole rabbit.

Amy’s face flushed. She hadn't expected such generosity. People usually buttered up her father-in-law, the village head, but everyone knew Evelyn was close with the Town Head. She didn't need to suck up to anyone.

"She... she's quite well-off, isn't she?" Amy muttered, tugging at her ear in embarrassment.

"Eat," Martha said coolly. "And in the future, talk less and work more."

Amy felt like a petty clown under her mother-in-law’s steady gaze.

The next morning, Evelyn headed to the township. She left two lunchboxes—one filled with fluffy white rice, the other with spicy rabbit—with Adrian’s secretary and left before he could see her.

She hopped a bus to the county seat. Shortly after she left, Julian showed up at Adrian’s office, hoping to beg his cousin for another military overcoat.

Adrian, holding the warm lunchboxes, didn't even look up. He ordered his secretary to throw Julian out.

Fuming, Julian marched to a public telephone and called home. He unleashed a torrent of rage on his mother, Eleanor. He demanded to know why they had forced Evelyn away, why they had humiliated her, and why they were destroying his marriage.

Eleanor was stunned. She denied everything—not because she was innocent, but because she genuinely believed her cruelty was "justified correction." But Julian knew his mother; he trusted Adrian’s word over her frantic excuses. Eleanor nearly fainted from the stress as her son slammed the phone down.

Meanwhile, in the county seat, Evelyn found the building she was looking for: the Revolutionary Committee.

With a steady hand, she dropped an envelope into the tip box. It was a formal report detailing the "moral corruption and scandalous conduct" of Julian and Seraphina in Red Wolf Valley.