Volume One, Chapter Four: Bringing Shame to the Time Traveler

In the room, Xiao Yichen took out paper and pen and began sketching and jotting down ideas.

He started listing ways and ideas to make money.

The Chu family’s debt was to be repaid once Chu Aoshuang’s war merits were granted—a matter of a few more days.

But that was a one-time sum; a stable source of income was still necessary.

He wrote down “soap” on the paper. Soap was a favorite product among time travelers—once produced, it could bring great wealth in this ancient society.

Yet after pondering for a long while, Xiao Yichen could not come up with a soap recipe, only knowing that it required fats and oils.

“Try something else,” he muttered.

He crossed out “soap” and wrote “glass” instead.

Then, biting the end of his pen, he pondered again, only to feel embarrassed—he didn’t know how to make glass either.

With a sigh, he felt like a disgrace to all time travelers.

In the modern world, he worked grueling 9-to-9 shifts, barely catching a break except to play games—a luxury that left no time to learn such crafts.

Besides, he never expected to be transported here; regretting now was too late.

He grabbed his hair and strained to recall all the knowledge from elementary school through university and into his working years, hoping to remember something useful.

But no matter how hard he tried, no inspiration came, and frustration gnawed at him.

“Useless... this whole time travel is for nothing,” he said, standing abruptly and tossing the pen onto the desk, then opening the door and stepping outside.

Within the Xiao residence, everything was white; faint sobbing could be heard, casting a mournful atmosphere over the entire estate.

The oppressive mood weighed heavily on Xiao Yichen’s heart; he decided to get some fresh air.

Outside, he went to a riverside pavilion and sat down.

Gazing at the scenery along the Fu River’s banks, his troubled mind eased somewhat.

“Brother Xiao, I knew you’d be here.”

A clear voice called out, and a handsome young gentleman dressed in black approached, followed by a servant.

“Brother Wang, what brings you here?” Xiao Yichen asked in surprise.

This was Wang Li, a man he had met at a salon gathering. They had hit it off, though Xiao Yichen only attended once and never returned.

It was a gathering of scholars boasting and debating national salvation strategies; he had been invited by Han Ziyun, the eighth sister-in-law, otherwise he wouldn’t have come.

At that salon, he met Wang Li.

Back then, to earn face for Han Ziyun, Xiao Yichen spoke about the relationship between labor and productivity.

But this advanced theory, far beyond their era, failed to interest the scholars, who dismissed him as spouting nonsense, pretending to be profound.

Only Wang Li listened intently, eyes wide with astonishment.

These idle scholars, of course, didn’t grasp labor and productivity concepts, but Wang Li thought it over and understood the gist, instantly paying close attention to Xiao Yichen.

Everyone assumed Xiao Yichen, once the capital’s top martial prodigy, had become a failure and would give up; no one expected him to have such deep insights about labor.

From then on, Wang Li often came to drink with Xiao Yichen.

Though Xiao Yichen found Wang Li somewhat effeminate, he couldn’t refuse such enthusiasm, and their frequent meetings grew into a genuine friendship.

He shared with Wang Li ideas about cost and economies of scale, industrial structure adjustments, and more.

Wang Li was eager to jot down every word.

Each conversation yielded new insights for Wang Li, whose gaze at Xiao Yichen gradually took on a different, subtle hue.

He even tentatively asked if Xiao Yichen wanted to become an official, promising to recommend him at court.

Xiao Yichen declined—officialdom was exhausting; wouldn’t it be better to lie low? With his family’s protection, even without restoring his cultivation, he enjoyed honors and wealth envied by others.

This pavilion was their usual meeting place.

“Brother Xiao, I heard about your family’s misfortune. My condolences,” Wang Li said, eyes filled with sorrow.

“Got any wine?” Xiao Yichen asked.

With a wave, Wang Li’s servant brought a wine jar. Wang Li poured two bowls, and they drained them in one gulp.

Xiao Yichen had a decent tolerance, and the alcohol here wasn’t strong.

Usually, drinking with Wang Li never made him drunk.

But this time, with heavy heart—his father and brothers dead in battle, his fiancée called off their engagement, and his entire family to support—troubles overwhelmed him, and he drank to drown his sorrows.

After several bowls, a tipsy warmth spread through him, memories of his father and brothers flooding his mind.

Before going to war, they cared for him deeply, comforting him that losing cultivation was not the worst—what was terrible was to lose heart and give up.

They even took turns staying with him each night, guiding him, which moved Xiao Yichen greatly.

He still remembered his father’s smile before departure.

“Shi Lang, when we win the war, you and Aoshuang will marry and have a big, healthy son. That will be my only wish in this life.”

That day, he saw his family off far away, never imagining it would be their final farewell.

He suspected their deaths were suspicious—his father had guarded the northern border for decades, and all nine elder brothers were formidable warriors, each able to fight ten men. How could they all die on the same day?

Could it have been foul play?

The Xiao family was full of loyal heroes, reminding him of Yue Fei, the patriotic general who met a tragic end.

Downing another bowl, the wine’s effect surged, and Xiao Yichen stood, letting out a long, resonant howl as he stared at the endlessly flowing Fu River.

“Fury raising my cap’s crest, by the railing where the drizzling rain has ceased. I raise my eyes, howl to the heavens, with heroic passion ablaze!”

Wang Li froze, staring hard at Xiao Yichen, goosebumps rising all over.

“Thirty years of fame turn to dust, eight thousand li beneath clouds and moon. Waste not youth idly, lest white hairs bring only empty regret!”

Xiao Yichen’s voice climbed with passion, and Wang Li involuntarily stood as well.

“With hunger, I feast on Hu invaders’ flesh; with thirst, I drink Xiongnu blood. Soon, I’ll start anew, reclaiming our lost lands, facing the imperial court!”

As the words fell, an unprecedented light flashed in Wang Li’s eyes.

His body trembled slightly; he had never heard such stirring, heroic poetry before.

It was as if they stood amidst the clashing armies and warhorses.

“Excellent! Such fierce spirit—feasting on Hu flesh and drinking Xiongnu blood!”

“Brother Xiao, I never expected you to have such great talent. This poem would shame all scholars across the land.”

Xiao Yichen shook his head. “I only wrote it thinking of my father.”

Wang Li’s expression darkened with sorrow. “If General Xiao could know, he would be comforted by your words.”

Seeing Xiao Yichen so downcast, Wang Li changed the topic.

“You mentioned Chu Aoshuang would marry you after returning from the campaign. Has the date been set?”

At this, a wry smile played on Xiao Yichen’s lips as he shook his head.

“My heart was once pledged to the bright moon, but alas, the moonlight shines on a ditch.”

“Enough of this melancholy. Let’s drink.”

Wang Li had hoped to cheer him up but was taken aback by the response. Pondering Xiao Yichen’s words, a frown crept onto his brow.

After they finished the wine jar, Wang Li ordered Xiao Yichen sent home.

“Has he arrived safely?”

“Your Majesty, Xiao Shi Lang has been returned to the Xiao estate.”

“Xue Long, investigate everything that has happened at the Xiao residence these past days. No detail is to be overlooked. I want to know exactly what transpired between Xiao Yichen and Chu Aoshuang.”

“As you command.”

Xue Long departed on his mission. Meanwhile, Wang Li boarded a nearby carriage and removed his tied-up hair and round cap, letting long, flowing locks cascade down.

From a handsome youth, he transformed into a coldly beautiful woman.

She was none other than Mu Yueli, the reigning Empress of Liang.

She often disguised herself as a man to mingle in salons, seeking talents. For over two years, no one had discovered her true identity—not even Xiao Yichen.

With the Xiao family’s recent tragedy, Mu Yueli felt deep sorrow.

Xiao Zhantian was the great general guarding the northern border, resisting the Xiongnu for decades. His death endangered the entire region.

She came to comfort Xiao Yichen, the last male heir of the Xiao family.

She had hoped to present him a grand gift at his wedding to Chu Aoshuang, but now it seemed circumstances had changed.

Chu Aoshuang, she hoped you had not done anything unwise.