The bare model unit was nothing but empty bed frames and tattered quilts. A handful of workers sat around a rickety table, drunk and bleary-eyed, playing poker. "Two of hearts! Warren, your turn. What are you staring at?" Warren Pendleton blinked slowly, his gaze sliding over the cards without really seeing them. He played a card. "Eight of spades." "Thanks for that eight of spades! I win!" The man across from him crowed with laughter and slapped the table, scattering the cards. "Pay up, Warren! No welching now!" Warren had drunk too much. His head throbbed, swollen and heavy, and the world felt wrapped in gauze. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a few crisp bills, tossing them onto the table without a word. How did he lose again? The alcohol made everything distant and slow. He stared at the scattered playing cards, but they refused to come into focus. The last thread of clarity in his mind was fraying fast. The other workers had been drinking just as hard. Now that they'd

Warren struggled through the splitting pain in his skull and forced his eyes open. Once the black fog clouding his vision finally cleared, Warren could make out his surroundings. What he saw left him stunned. This was not the sterile white hospital room he expected, reeking of disinfectant and filled with beeping machines. Instead, he found himself in a cramped, dilapidated room. The space was bare and drafty, wind seeping through cracks in the walls. Clearly, no one had maintained it in a very long time. But what truly shocked Warren was the sight of his two-year-old daughter, Daisy. He blinked once, twice, then again. Each time his eyes reopened, she was still there. The little girl staring fearfully at him was unmistakably his daughter at age two, just as he remembered her from years ago. The poor child's eyes brimmed with golden tears that threatened to spill at any moment. Her expression was terrified as she watched her father clutch his temples and mutter frantically to hims

Watching the affection written plainly across Daisy's face, Warren felt something tighten in his chest. He swallowed the bite of egg she'd offered from her own spoon, bitterness flooding through him. Warren set Daisy down beside Molly and said, "I'm going to check the storage room for anything useful. You two go ahead and eat." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left quickly. Molly stared at the eggs still heaped on the plate, more than half remaining. Something flickered in her heart, tentative and small. But years of disappointment had taught her not to hope. She glanced at Daisy, thinking quietly that perhaps this was enough. If she were gone, at least Warren would be able to take care of their daughter. Inside the cramped storage room, Warren tore through boxes and shelves, urgency sharpening every movement. After the experiment with the wild greens, he'd confirmed exactly what the Healing Spring could do. It accelerated the growth of crops and healed injuries and il

This was no ordinary broth. Warren had deliberately brought it out from the system's Healing Spring. "Didn't have time to make soup today," Warren said. "Have some of the dumpling broth instead." At his words, Molly picked up the bowl. For some reason, Molly found the dumplings especially delicious today, and she was curious about the broth as well. Besides, the water used to boil dumplings had its own nutrition. It would be a waste to throw it away. She took a sip, and her eyes widened immediately. An intensely fresh, clean taste spread through her mouth. This wasn't ordinary broth at all. It was even more savory than the dumplings themselves. Warren had made the dumplings small, just the right size for Daisy to eat one at a time. She ate without stopping, pausing only to sip the broth. "Daddy's dumplings are so yummy!" At Daisy's words, Molly smiled faintly. Her gaze toward Warren softened, if only slightly. The warmth and anticipation of their newlywed days were gone, but it

Warren's eyes gleamed with sudden clarity as the implications of the vegetable vendor's casual remarks finally came together in his mind. After hearing those two sentences, everything seemed to fall neatly into place, and Warren realized that he didn't just want to make money anymore; he wanted to find a way to make it quickly, before anyone else noticed the same opportunity. The ideas of wholesale markets, off-season produce, and Southern specialties began connecting one after another, forming a business opportunity that suddenly seemed almost obvious. Vegetables that were common and inexpensive in the South could become scarce and valuable commodities once they reached the North, where the same produce was far less readily available. The more Warren thought about it, the more excited he became, because this wasn't twenty-some years in the future, when sophisticated logistics networks, nationwide distribution systems, and online shopping would make it much harder to profit from suc