Chapter One: Ma Xun
1996, Beijing.
Just as the harsh cold days seemed to be ending, a sudden late spring chill swept in.
Ma Xun crouched by the roadside, tightening the collar of his cotton-padded jacket.
The padding was coming loose.
This jacket was something he had recently scavenged from beside a garbage heap.
Though the cotton was escaping, at least it hadn’t been tossed into the trash pile.
If it had, not only would it be filthy, but it would carry a strange stench.
He admitted he had a touch of cleanliness obsession.
If it weren’t absolutely forced upon him, who would willingly squat by the roadside in a jacket with escaping cotton?
Ma Xun was a time traveler.
Originally, he had been a small-time director in the 21st century.
To be honest, his career had been quite a failure.
One day, after drinking, he bragged a great deal.
“I’ve worked on so many film crews, I know all the gossip in the entertainment world!”
Someone egged him on, undeterred by the trouble.
“Then why don’t you start a livestream? Like that popular gossip queen who spills secrets and sells products at the same time.”
Ma Xun replied drunkenly, “If I can’t get into any crew, I’ll just livestream myself!”
He couldn’t recall the exact details after the drinks.
He didn’t even remember whether he went home; in any case, he fell asleep.
When Ma Xun opened his eyes again...
“What the hell? Where the hell am I?”
Fortunately, as a devoted user of online communities, Ma Xun quickly realized he must have traveled through time.
He woke up in a small room.
Stepping outside, he found himself in a chaotic courtyard.
Voices around him spoke in the Beijing dialect.
It had to be Beijing.
He patted himself down—besides the thermal shirt and underwear, he found only an ID card.
Ma Xun, 23 years old... and it was 1996!
At that moment, an auntie with a prominent forehead wrinkle approached.
“Look at the mess you made of our house! I’m not renting to you anymore! I’m a kind woman, so I’ll forgive the two months of unpaid rent, but don’t even think about your deposit!”
This woman was clearly kicking him out.
Ma Xun was helpless... from “auntie” to “old hag” was just a blink of an eye.
Having just traveled through time, he was now homeless.
The silver lining was that after tidying up his belongings, he scraped together 30 yuan.
Not enough to starve immediately.
He also had a driver’s license, which counted as a high-tech skill in this era.
In this world, Ma Xun was an orphan.
He had come to Beijing to work.
Now that he had traveled through time, none of that mattered.
A poor drifter in the capital—that was his current situation.
Because of his slight cleanliness obsession, he felt uncomfortable and went to a bathhouse.
It wasn’t too expensive to wash up in those days.
Besides, bathing was a way to better understand oneself.
There were scales to check weight and height.
He stood 181 centimeters tall and weighed over 150 jin (about 75 kilograms).
Not bad.
When he took off his clothes... he caught sight of a Korean drama dubbed in a childish voice.
“Dae Jang Geum.”
At least some assets had come with him.
After washing away the grime, he looked in the mirror.
He had changed—quite handsome.
In short, this face was not bad at all.
But since he was here, whether he had traveled to the past or a parallel universe, he had to find a way to survive.
What should he do?
Going to the bathhouse was already five days ago.
At this moment, Ma Xun had been hungry for two days.
He had sought work but was rejected.
“You’re too slow! Get lost!”
No one even wanted him to wash dishes.
So, he pulled his hands from his jacket pockets.
He also had a battered enamel bowl with him.
Begging?
Not exactly.
He called it “wild foraging.”
It was clear Ma Xun wasn’t just a little fastidious but also had pride.
Unless forced by dire need, or having felt the gnawing hunger and the chill of sleeping on concrete pipes under the biting night wind, Ma Xun wouldn’t lose his dignity.
Believe it or not, the sight of Ma Xun, curled up by the roadside in a jacket with escaping cotton, and his forlorn, alienated expression...
Though he couldn’t wash dishes, he was familiar with acting!
The clatter of the enamel bowl striking the ground was incessant.
Before long, a rough count showed dozens of coins in the bowl.
The begging economy was lucrative!
But then, suddenly...
“That’s him!”
“He’s right here!”
“Brothers! Beat him up!”
Several men appeared, cursing loudly.
Ma Xun grabbed the chipped enamel bowl and ran.
That bowl had been “picked up” from someone else.
Really picked up—someone had left, and the bowl was stuffed into a crack in the wall.
He took it; it was stingy not to.
These fake beggars were mad, thinking he was stealing their business!
Well, with his looks, he had an edge at begging.
No time to think further.
If you chase, I run.
My surname’s Ma! Do you know what prestige that holds?
Unfortunately, after running for a while, Ma Xun realized his stamina was no better than those professional beggars.
“Stop running!”
“You brat...”
They were gasping for breath, and Ma Xun was also struggling.
Might as well...
“I don’t want it anymore!”
He tossed the enamel bowl over the courtyard wall.
He threw it casually, with no idea what it might hit beyond the high wall.
Never mind, just run!
...
Finally, he shook off those fake beggars.
But he was soaked in sweat.
Might as well take another bath.
There were bathing centers now, called saunas.
Anything with “sauna” sounded much more upscale than the old public bathhouses.
There were two types: “plain sauna” and “fancy sauna.”
The fancy sauna was basically massage by the opposite sex—no need to elaborate.
It was only one or two in the afternoon now.
The fancy sauna wasn’t open for business; those in the know understood.
The plain sauna was much cheaper.
The earnings from begging just bought a couple of steamed buns and a ticket for the plain sauna.
Hey! Guess what?
He still had 50 yuan left!
The auntie at the front desk gave him two big white eyes when she saw his tattered jacket.
Did she know he was a man carrying 50 yuan in cash?
He ignored the petty attitude.
After undressing, he steamed himself.
An uncle named Benshan had once told a joke that popped into his head.
Covering his face with a towel, Ma Xun wanted to rest his eyes.
Actually, having money meant he could enjoy the sauna.
He wasn’t being arrogant.
Mainly, he was confident now.
He could survive for a while by begging.
Of course, it wasn’t a long-term plan.
First, earn about ten thousand yuan—he had big ambitions.
At this moment...
Two people entered the sauna room.
“Director Feng, you’re impressive this time. I heard you’re going to Canada to shoot a film.”
“Ha ha... Just a bit of talk.”
“I also heard the lead actress is the beautiful Chen?”
“Well...”
“Don’t be so formal with me.”
“Nothing’s official yet.”
“Oh, got it. And the male lead? Ding Li? Or our supermodel?”
“This series is mainly aimed at the Hong Kong TV market.”
“Oh, understood.”
Their conversation was odd.
If anyone else overheard, it would be like hearing an alien language.
But Ma Xun’s heart stirred.
He slightly lifted the corner of his towel and glanced.
Damn! It was those two!
The one called Director Feng was probably Feng Baiyuan.
Most people wouldn’t know his name, but everyone recognized his work.
“The Great Times.”
He was one of the directors.
Ma Xun had the advantage of being from the industry.
Director Feng later also worked on “Swordsman’s Romance” and “Princess Agents.”
If Ma Xun weren’t an insider, he wouldn't have known him.
The other man was even more interesting.
He was known as the number one paparazzo in the country.
Last year, he broke the scandal of Queen Wang’s urine accident.
Many doubted it since the photos first appeared in Hong Kong media.
But after the follow-up, it was clear.
That paparazzo, Dou Wei, had someone torch his boss’s car.
And now, this paparazzo’s head was with the Hong Kong director.
Paparazzi sold gossip to whoever paid most.
Their conversation was obscure, unintelligible to most.
But Ma Xun understood everything!
The beautiful Chen was probably Chen “Diao Chan” Hong.
Ding Li was certainly Lü Liangwei.
And the supermodel was likely Hu Bin.
But going to Canada to shoot? He couldn’t guess what project it was.
At least a TV series shooting overseas meant it had money!
Just then, Director Feng stopped talking with the paparazzo.
A waiter came in.
“Mr. Feng, a call for you.”
Handing over a bulky cellphone.
The Hong Kong director answered with great style.
But his expression instantly changed.
“What? The photographer got hurt? Hit on the head?”
After the mishap, Director Feng hurriedly left.
The paparazzo followed.
Ma Xun waited until they left the sauna room, then took the towel off his face.
...
“The previous intelligence hasn’t been confirmed yet.”
“That bastard from Hong Kong evenI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.