Chapter 3: The Blacksmith’s Workshop Space

Page (1/3)

Now, Chengliang Duan stood inside the relatively large blacksmith’s furnace room. He couldn’t help but bend down and lift a hammer lying on the ground beside him. The solid tactile sensation and weight filled him with a strong sense of reality.

Then, he went to the adjacent small bedroom. Unlike the crowded blacksmith shop, this room was empty—nothing but a bare, vacant space.

He also walked around the small courtyard of about fifty square meters. Just like the bedroom, the original vegetable patches, various decorations, and even the chicken coop were all gone.

Only an empty yard remained, yet it still had a well, some soil, and the courtyard walls.

He stood on tiptoe and peered beyond the courtyard wall. It was hazy and impenetrable. Moreover, in his memory, there had once been a door in the wall, but now it was gone.

Duan tried the retro-style water well that the old blacksmith had proudly introduced to him before. Hey, it really did draw water. That was quite remarkable.

From what he could see now, this familiar blacksmith shop, except for the items inside the large furnace room, remained almost untouched.

The bedroom and courtyard were completely cleared out.

Of course, the original owner—the loquacious old blacksmith—was missing as well.

Naturally, Duan thought of many novels featuring pocket dimensions. After pacing around twice, he confirmed that this must be an isolated space, limited to just these two rooms plus the small courtyard.

The main question now was whether all this was real or illusion—was it a dream or an actual experience?

He walked to the 15-kilogram power hammer and pressed its switch. Unfortunately, nothing happened. Apparently, there was no electricity. He searched around the blacksmith shop and tried every switch, but indeed, there was no power.

As he looked around and occasionally picked up various tools to toy with them, his stomach began to rumble loudly.

This hunger felt very real. He hadn’t eaten since coming home after work. He had just placed two steamed buns made from a blend of wheat and corn flour by the coal stove to warm up, but hadn’t eaten them yet. Yet in this place, there was nothing but iron scraps. Well, there was water, but that wouldn’t satisfy hunger.

Was he going to be stuck in this blacksmith shop space forever?

Wait, in all those time travel stories, the space should allow free entry and exit.

It seemed that he just needed to consciously think about leaving. Duan tried.

Sure enough, web novels didn’t lie.

He stepped out, and at that moment, he realized he was still in the exact pose he had been in moments ago when his head spun—his hand still reaching toward the slightly yellowed steamed buns. He had been about to pick one up, hadn’t he?

Page (2/3)

This showed that while he had spent so much time inside, hardly any time had passed outside.

But how had this space suddenly appeared? He had been here for a week already and thought he had no special abilities—just one of the most ordinary time travelers among countless others.

Yet today, the blacksmith’s shop had manifested.

His gaze then fell on the fire poker lying on the floor.

A thought flashed through his mind: "Could this be related to my having hammered the fire poker myself?"

That was not an unreasonable deduction. After all, heating the fire poker red-hot and hammering it bent was the most basic iron repair or forging task a blacksmith would do.

Could it be that because he personally performed a forging act, this space had appeared?

Duan picked up the fire poker and placed it back on the forge. This time he sat by and watched it heat until red-hot.

Then, taking it out, he hammered it again on a cobblestone, straightening and bending it.

He was full of hope, but nothing happened. So it wasn’t because of hammering the fire poker?

Another possibility was that repeating the same action on the same object might no longer be accepted.

Ah well, these were just his wild guesses. The blacksmith shop space gave no hints about its purpose or any other conditions. He guessed he would have to figure things out on his own gradually.

How exactly did one enter this space?

He thought of a new question and tried silently repeating the word: "Space."

Not bad, the usual method. The space appeared clearly in his mind; he could feel it distinctly. But when he tried to touch it with his hand, he couldn’t.

His right hand still held the hammer used to strike the fire poker.

With a shift in thought, the hammer vanished from his hand and reappeared in the designated spot within his mental space.

He tried taking the hammer out and putting it back in, discovering he could effortlessly place it in the nearby bedroom or in the empty courtyard.

Then he experimented by storing steamed buns, a stool, a kang table (heated bed table), and finally in the southern room, even the double-door wooden cabinet and the large earthenware jar could be stored in the space.

Page (3/3)

He now basically concluded that the blacksmith shop space could store and retrieve items normally. It seemed the bedroom could serve as a storage room.

This blacksmith shop was not so simple; it should allow real steel forging, enabling him to craft things. As for the effects of those crafted items, actual experiments would be necessary.

Additionally, the small courtyard outside was warm, about twenty degrees Celsius, giving a feeling of eternal spring.

He believed he could grow things here, maybe even raise chickens. These would all require his gradual testing and verification.

He also successfully practiced entering and exiting the space with his mind, finally feeling assured. It seemed the special ability had truly arrived.

Duan ate the steamed buns and drank plain boiled water, yet it felt like dining on delicacies and drinking rare fine wine. His mood was exceptionally good.

He had spent the past week biting his lip in regret.

But at this moment, he felt no regret at all.

Now, all he had was excitement, confidence, and hope for the future.

Of course, there was also great curiosity. This magical blacksmith shop space surely had more uses and wonders waiting to be discovered.

Ah, traveling with a golden finger to Beijing in 1958, becoming a registered resident, landing a secure government job, and living in a traditional courtyard house—what a perfect fulfillment of three wishes.

At this moment, no trace of resentment or dissatisfaction remained in his heart, only joy and excitement.

Just as Duan finished eating both steamed buns, took a sip of water, wiped his mouth, and was about to stand up and continue exploring his space,

The door to his room was knocked.

"Chengliang, Chengliang, are you home?"

That voice was unfamiliar to Duan when he first arrived in this world, but it was very familiar from his previous life’s memories.

"Qin Huairu."