“When speaking, let trust come first. Deceit and lies—how can they be allowed? Better to say little than to say too much. Only what is right…”
The clear sound of children reciting their lessons came from a two-courtyard residence in a nearby alley. The neighbors all perked up their ears, now and then showing a faint smile.
“Ding—”
“Congratulations, Host. Ten Life Points have been credited.”
Zhao Xun was doing his morning reading along with his classmates when he heard the System’s emotionless, mechanical voice in his mind. He didn’t even lift his eyelids, simply continuing to read.
“Do not rush, and do not mumble. One speaks at length, another speaks briefly. If it does not concern you, do not meddle. When you see someone doing good…”
…
Only after they finished did Zhao Xun check his Life Points on the System Panel.
One hundred in total.
Ten Life Points could extend his life by ten days, so for now, he could live another hundred days.
That was enough time for him to do a great many things—and to find his next chance to extend his life.
Thinking that saving one person only earned him ten Life Points, Zhao Xun couldn’t help cursing inwardly again.
Stingy dog of a System!
Where was he supposed to find so many people who needed saving!?
And with his current appearance, the mission difficulty was five stars right off the bat!
Looking at the little carrot-headed children in the Academy, Zhao Xun glanced down at his own short arms and legs. His chubby little hand had eight dimples in it, soft and fleshy.
His expression turned distant for a moment.
He, Zhao Xun, had transmigrated—and been reincarnated in the womb, at that. Now five years old, he was studying at Teacher Chen’s Academy in Pingsang County.
Ah, to think that he, a fine young man of the twenty-first century, had transmigrated just like that—and been reincarnated in the womb, no less. It all seemed utterly unbelievable.
But when he thought of how he had died, Zhao Xun closed his eyes.
As expected, there were plenty of lunatics in this world, and being a forensic pathologist was a dangerous profession.
All he had done was perform an autopsy on the deceased according to procedure. Who could have known it would provoke the family’s resentment? On his way home, he’d been caught off guard when a relative of the deceased, lying in wait, rushed out and stabbed him to death.
He had died at the age of twenty-six.
Afterward, he was reincarnated in the womb in a dynasty absent from the history books: Daqing.
Well, fine, he’d been reincarnated in the womb—but he’d also been born premature, sickly, and reliant on medicine to stay alive day after day.
At first, he’d thought that drinking such bitter Chinese medicine every day was worse than being dead.
Of course, given his condition at the time, death had only been a matter of time.
He’d thought that whether he died sooner or later, he was going to die anyway. Once dead, it would all be over.
But Heaven wouldn’t let him die!
It had even equipped him with a life-extension System.
On top of that, his mother in this life cared for him so devotedly, wishing she could take his place and bear all his suffering herself.
So Zhao Xun had decided that a bad life was better than no life at all. He might as well give living a try.
After all, the family structure of someone reincarnated in the womb was simple.
He was the son of a farmer. His biological father had died in battle five years ago, and they hadn’t even recovered his body; they had only set up a cenotaph for him.
All that remained of the family were his widowed mother, his grandparents, and two unmarried aunts.
It wasn’t that the family had nothing at all—they had a capable mother, after all.
Zhao Xun was quite satisfied.
Aside from being a little sickly and liable to kick the bucket at any moment, he didn’t have much to complain about.
It was the peaceful life he wanted.
Zhao Xun had been literate in his previous life, so he couldn’t bear the thought of being illiterate in this one.
So as soon as he was old enough, he begged his mother to send him to the Academy to study. By now, he had learned most of the characters.
His days were simple: Chen Family School, Zhao's Fur Shop, Kaoshan Village—the same three places, and a pleasant enough routine.
He had now been studying at the Academy for half a year, and his life had been temporarily secured. Everything was moving in a good direction.
Even though he was frail, his family treated him well. His mother in particular cherished him so much that she feared he might break if she held him in her hands, or melt if she kept him in her mouth. She wished she could stay by his side every day, as if afraid he might suddenly disappear one day.
In his previous life, Zhao Xun had never experienced such family affection. So although Heaven had given him a sickly body in this life, it had also given him the love he hadn’t received before.
Over the years, he had tried to accept everything about this world.
After all, he couldn’t go back.
At the thought, Zhao Xun’s eyes dimmed slightly.
But he quickly rallied.
Since things had come to this, he had to make a change to protect his life and give his family a better life.
In ancient times, when human lives were as worthless as grass, it was incredibly hard for ordinary people to survive. The heavy taxes alone could crush an entire family.
He didn’t know how to farm, and he didn’t want to learn a trade, so the best option was to study.
In ancient times, scholars held high status. So from the beginning, aside from genuinely not wanting to be illiterate, another reason Zhao Xun had studied was that he was aiming for the Imperial Examination.
It would be even better if he could earn the title of Xiucai.
Although the path was incredibly difficult—like thousands of soldiers and horses trying to cross a single-plank bridge—he wasn’t afraid.
After all, he did have a cheat of his own.
He had had Photographic Memory in his previous life, and this body had it too.
Zhao Xun figured Heaven must be jealous of the talented. Otherwise, it was hard to explain why he’d kicked the bucket at twenty-six in his previous life and was still sickly in this one.
The emperor of Daqing, where he had been reincarnated in the womb, was now in the prime of his reign.
It was the sixth year of the Qinghe era.
Based on what he had quietly observed over the five years since transmigrating, if one set aside Emperor Qinghe’s private life and personal temperament, he was probably a wise ruler who worked diligently and cared for his people.
He valued literature and the Way, welcomed remonstrance with an open mind, and sympathized with the people’s hardships.
Of course, he was also highly ambitious.
For the past few years, Daqing had been at war with the Zhaojin Kingdom, and Emperor Qinghe’s intentions were hardly a secret.
He wanted to unify the Central Plains.
Although this was a fictional dynasty, history had only taken a different turn after the Song dynasty.
After the Song dynasty, the Central Plains had been divided between Daqing and the Zhaojin Kingdom, forming two rival states that had now stood for more than two hundred and fifty years.
The two sides had clashed repeatedly during that time.
After all, how could anyone tolerate another sleeping beside their bed?
War between the two countries was bound to break out sooner or later.
And sure enough, after Emperor Qinghe ascended the throne, the two countries’ war began in earnest.
As a result, the people’s taxes had increased because of the war.
His father had been urgently conscripted into the army just as his mother became pregnant with him. Less than a year later, news of his death arrived.
However, some people among the common folk speculated that the war between the two countries would most likely end this year.
The several large-scale battles between Daqing and Zhaojin over the past few years had ended with both sides winning and losing, though Daqing had gained a slight advantage.
Then, at the beginning of last month, news that Daqing had decisively defeated Zhaojin spread throughout the land.
The Zhaojin Kingdom had fallen, the Central Plains had been unified, and the people rejoiced.
“Shuanzi, what are you spacing out for? Teacher’s calling you!” Zhuzi nudged the elbow of the person beside him, his deskmate, and reminded him in a whisper.
At the sound of his voice, Zhao Xun instinctively raised his eyes toward Teacher Chen at the lectern.
The little old man had a short mustache and squinting eyes. With one hand behind his back, he said nothing, merely watching Zhao Xun in silence. Still, Zhao Xun shivered and immediately straightened his posture.
Seeing this, Teacher Chen swept his gaze around the room and said sternly, “Pay attention to the lesson.”
As he spoke, he looked pointedly toward Zhao Xun’s side of the room.
Seeing that Zhao Xun looked attentive and was no longer distracted, he turned his gaze back to the book in his hands.
“Yesterday, we covered ‘If your parents love you, how hard is it to be filial? If your parents despise you, then filial piety is truly virtuous. When your parents are at fault, remonstrate with them and help them change. Keep your expression gentle and your voice soft.’ This means…”
“That scared me. I thought Teacher was going to punish you! Shuanzi, what were you doing just now? I called you for ages and you didn’t answer. Are you feeling unwell again?” Zhuzi whispered, holding his book up to shield his face.
As he spoke, he looked his sickly deskmate and playmate up and down.
At the name Shuanzi, Zhao Xun couldn’t help twitching the corner of his mouth.
Yes, his name was Shuanzi, and even now, he still didn’t have a formal name.
His mother had consulted a fortune-teller, who said he couldn’t be given a formal name until he was six, or it would shorten his lifespan. After hearing that, the whole family followed the advice and stopped thinking about giving him a formal name.
So, for the five years since he had been reincarnated in the womb here, he had only been given the childhood name Shuanzi.
Shuanzi, Shuanzi—what his Mother and grandparents meant was that the name would tie his life down, keeping the Black and White Impermanence from accidentally snatching him away.
Zhao Xun’s response to that was: as long as you’re happy.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
Zhao Xun responded with a cheerful smile to Zhuzi’s concern.
After all, this was his first true little friend in this world.
Teacher Chen was usually quite kind and treated him very well. After all, he was sickly, so he naturally received more attention than the others.
On top of that, his memory was excellent and he had some talent for learning, so Teacher paid even more attention to him.
“That’s good. I thought…”
Zhuzi was just about to speak when an urgent voice rang out from the doorway of Class Bing.
“Sorry to interrupt, Teacher Chen. I’m looking for Shuanzi!”
Teacher Chen was in the middle of teaching when he was so abruptly interrupted. He frowned in displeasure and turned to look.
At the same time, all the dozen or so students in Class Bing looked toward the person at the doorway, including Zhao Xun.
Auntie Qiu?
She looked anxious.
Zhao Xun shot to his feet and headed for the doorway.
Auntie Qiu and his mother were very close, so something must have happened to his mother. Otherwise, Auntie Qiu wouldn’t have suddenly come looking for him, much less with such urgency. She had even come all the way to the Academy where he was studying without regard for propriety, so it had to be something serious.
Before he could call out to her, Zhao Xun heard Auntie Qiu say from the doorway:
“Shuanzi, your father—the one who died in battle—has come back!”
The announcement stirred up a thousand waves.
Zhao Xun’s steps came to an abrupt halt. He stared at Auntie Qiu in disbelief.
Even Teacher Chen and all the students in Class Bing gaped in astonishment.
After all, who among them didn’t know that Shuanzi’s father had died in battle five years ago?
And now they were being told that Shuanzi’s father, who had died in battle, had come back. Who wouldn’t be shocked?