Transmigrated into a seven-year-old child, my fate is in my own hands, not in the heavens.

After finishing the flatbread, Zhao Lian felt sleepy. When she woke up again, she found that the room was much darker.

Zhao Lian looked up at the window and realized it was getting dark outside. The sudden tug made her feel a burning pain in all her wounds.

Remembering that the village chief had said Uncle Gui would be bringing something over later, Zhao Lian put on her clothes.

What should have been a simple matter of getting dressed has now become a difficult task.

Her back and hands were covered in wounds, with only the skin on her chest remaining intact. Zhao Lian endured the pain, raised her hand, and spent several minutes putting on her clothes.

She had just put her clothes on when there was a knock on the door.

"Zhao Lian, open the door! It's Uncle Gui!" Fu Gui's voice rang out.

"Coming, wait a moment."

Zhao Lian struggled to get out of bed and it took her two or three minutes to walk to the door and open it for Fu Gui.

"Uncle Gui~"

Fu Gui walked in with a small cloth bag, placed it on the table, and then took out two cakes from his pocket.

He patted the small cloth bag and said to Zhao Lian with a smile, "Zhao Lian, my father asked me to bring you some black flour. Here are two black flour cakes."

"Thank you, Uncle Gui."

"Alright, it'll be getting dark soon, so I'll be going now. Take care." With that, Fu Gui walked out the door.

"it is good!"

Just as Zhao Lian was about to close the door, she heard Wang's voice: "Wait a minute, wait a minute."

Zhao Lian quickly opened the door and saw Wang Shi running over, greeting Fu Gui.

"Fu Gui left?"

"Yes, Third Sister-in-law, I'm leaving now."

Zhao Lian slowly walked to the table and sat down. At this moment, Wang Shi came in and looked at Zhao Lian with concern, asking, "Zhao Lian, are you feeling better?"

Zhao Lian nodded and said softly, "I feel much better, thank you, Third Aunt."

Looking at the kind-looking Wang Shi in front of me, I noticed that her skin was fairly fair, with a few freckles on her face, and she always had a smile on her face.

Zhao Lian couldn't help but feel fortunate that her mother had a good sister.

Wang took out a few black flatbreads from her person, and then carefully took out a small egg and placed it on the table: "Zhaolian, eat this egg while it's hot."

"This will work."

Zhao Lian shook her head: "These eggs are too precious. You should take them back for Li Tong and Sisters Chunlan and Chunju to eat."

Without a word, Wang shoved the egg into her hand, pretending to be angry, and said, "Just eat it. You're injured right now, eating it will help you heal faster."

Zhao Lian had no choice but to accept the eggs, not wanting to refuse any longer, since her body needed nutrition right now.

Looking at the black flour that Fu Gui had brought, Wang Shi breathed a sigh of relief. This small half-bag of black flour would be enough for Zhao Lian to eat for a while.

I took those two dark breads for myself, even though I had to save them from between my teeth.

To avoid being discovered by her mother-in-law, she walked aside while eating and secretly hid herself, only eating a little bit.

She found the egg in the henhouse a few days ago. The hen had just started laying eggs, and this was a newly laid egg, about the size of a thumb.

My mother-in-law probably doesn't know that when she was cooking dinner that night, she cooked it and hid it in her pocket.

Wang turned her head and looked around anxiously, saying, "It's getting dark, I have to go now. After you finish eating, try to brew some medicine for me."

"Okay, Third Aunt, take care!"

Just as Zhao Lian was about to stand up, Wang Shi quickly told her to sit down, saying that she would close the door. Then Wang Shi went out and locked the door.

Zhao Lian glanced at the black flour that Fu Gui had brought, estimating it to be about three or four pounds. If she ate it sparingly, it would probably be enough for her to eat for half a month, and by then her injury would probably be healed.

In addition, he took two black flour cakes, which, together with the ones Wang brought, made a total of four black flour cakes.

The dark pancake was fried until very dry. Zhao Lian chewed it slowly. When she first transmigrated, she thought it was rough and gritty, and almost impossible to swallow.

But even something like this is something she can't always afford to eat at every meal. Now, as she eats it, she finds it delicious.

These are the foods she will rely on to survive in the future, so she has to eat them sparingly. She can only go out to find food after her injuries have healed.

After eating a piece of dark noodles, she was only half full. Zhao Lian ate the egg and drank a few sips of water before she felt half full.

Seeing the dark pancakes, Zhao Lian resisted the urge to eat them and put them away.

She had made up her mind: she would only eat one piece of black bread and drink some water per meal.

These things were all given to us by others. In these days, no family has much food, so it is extremely rare for someone to be able to give us so much.

I need to recover from my injuries quickly and find something to eat. Help from others can only last for a short time; I'll have to rely on myself in the future.

Zhao Lian put the black flour and the cakes into the cabinet in the kitchen.

The kitchen was extremely rudimentary, consisting of two mud bricks erected in a corner against the wall, with a pot placed on top.

Zhao Lian discovered that there were only two earthenware pots, one of which was about 30 centimeters wide, and the other looked like a modern medicine pot for decocting Chinese medicine.

This little medicine pot makes things so much easier. Besides brewing medicine, it can also be used to boil water.

Zhao Lian took out the earthenware pot, washed it, poured in a dose of medicine, and then scooped in a ladle of water.

But when she tried to start a fire, she was stumped because Zhaolian couldn't find anything that could be used to start a fire.

At the He family's house, there's a flint to start a fire, but here, there's nothing. This is truly a case of a skilled cook being unable to cook without rice.

I have rice but no fire, this won't do.

Suddenly, she remembered the method of making fire by rubbing sticks together. Our ancestors used to make fire by rubbing sticks together in the Stone Age.

She remembered the documentary she had watched about survival in the wilderness, in which a foreigner had demonstrated it.

Zhao Lian found a small wooden board and a small stick about the size of a finger, which she shaved into a cone shape with a machete.

Next, he made a 5-shaped groove on the edge of the wooden board, put some grass clippings on it, and rubbed the wooden stick between his hands.

But she found it too difficult; she was already weak, and she couldn't light a fire even after a long time.

It's completely dark now, and the house is pitch black, but thankfully there's moonlight tonight.

Moonlight shone in through the window, and even though it was dark, it was still barely possible to see clearly through the moonlight.

Finally, Zhao Lian came up with another idea. She found a relatively flexible stick and tied both ends together with her waistband to make it into an arc shape.

Then, the belt was wrapped around the wooden stick and the bow was placed parallel to the ground. It was pulled back and forth like a saw. Slowly, the friction between the stick and the wooden board produced wood chips, which began to char.

Zhao Lian found some softer wood shavings at the woodpile, mixed them together, and continued to pull the bow drill back and forth.

Slight smoke began to rise from the joint between the stick and the wooden board. She was exhausted by then, and the pulling motion had also caused her wounds to ache.

Large beads of sweat streamed down her forehead and back, stinging her wounds as they seeped through, but she knew she couldn't stop.

Zhao Lian continued to pull the bow drill quickly, and soon saw sparks. She was extremely excited and quickly increased her speed.

The debris underneath was all spark-like, so Zhao Lian stopped what she was doing and picked up some dry grass from the side.

Place the plank on the hay, carefully wrap the sparkling grass fragments in the hay, and gently blow on them.

The smoke started to get thicker and thicker, and it became quite pungent. Zhao Lian puffed out her cheeks and blew on the smoke, not daring to stop for a moment.

As the sparks grew larger and larger, Zhao Lian knew that the most critical moment had arrived.

She squeezed the hay tightly and continued blowing on it. After another minute or two, the hay in her hand finally caught fire.

"Great, it worked!"

Overjoyed, Zhao Lian forgot about her wound and suddenly winced in pain.