Chapter 1: Soul Jar

The evening mist was vast, and the grass grew thick, stretching to the horizon.

Under the setting sun, a river flowed, its current as swift as a stampede.

Wang Yang slowly opened his eyes, feeling the world spinning and his head swimming.

Where is this?!

He had clearly been browsing the museum just a moment ago; how did he end up in this place in the blink of an eye?

He forced himself to sit up, only to be stunned to find three others sitting up with him!

These three had their hair in topknots and wore tattered, coarse hemp tunics, dressed like people from ancient times.

Two of the three were young.

One was as sturdy as an ox, looking like a Vajra warrior.

One was exceptionally handsome, like a pretty boy from an idol drama.

The last one was a plain-looking middle-aged man in his forties or fifties.

To Wang Yang's right, a man as thin as a hemp stalk lay in the grass, motionless.

Counting the thin man lying down, from their positions, the five of them formed a small circle.

In the middle of the five sat a crudely made grass basket, and not far from it was a clay pot with a charred bottom, containing a little leftover soup.

Beside the pot was a wooden bowl with a large wooden ladle resting on it, filled with a black liquid. Wang Yang smelled the scent drifting over and thought it seemed to be vinegar.

The four looked at each other, and for a time, no one spoke.

Wang Yang subconsciously reached out to push up his glasses, only to find he pushed at empty air.

Perhaps catching this movement, the middle-aged man stared at Wang Yang and tentatively opened his mouth: "Dr... Dr. Wang?"

Wang Yang was startled: "Xu Bian?"

"It's me! It's me!" the middle-aged man replied immediately. "How did we get here? And you... how did you become like this?"

Wang Yang thought of something and hurriedly stood up, running toward the river. The other three saw this and ran over as well.

Reflected on the water's surface was the face of a youth, no more than seventeen or eighteen years old.

Sparse brows, bright eyes, a slightly high bridge of the nose.

In terms of looks, he could be called delicate, but his complexion was overly pale, and coupled with his thin frame, he looked somewhat timid. His eyes were slightly red, appearing weak and exhausted.

He wasn't wearing glasses, yet his vision was as clear as if carved; he hadn't experienced this feeling since he became nearsighted in the sixth grade of elementary school.

Just then, uncontrollable laughter came from beside him; the handsome youth, looking like a pretty boy, was dancing with excitement:

"Time travel! We've traveled through time! I've read who knows how many time-travel novels, and now I've finally traveled through time! Hahaha! This museum trip wasn't in vain! Hahahaha! And I've traveled into such a handsome body!!!"

He touched his own face, then looked at the faces of the three beside him, confirming once again that among them, he was the most handsome, and couldn't help but be ecstatic!

The sturdy man did a few stretching exercises, making his joints pop, then threw a few punches at the air, seemingly adapting to this new body, and said disdainfully:

"This is ancient times; you can't be a celebrity here. What's the use of being good-looking?"

The handsome youth was still in extreme excitement and didn't get angry at the sturdy man's retort, instead becoming even more spirited: "It might not necessarily be ancient times! Maybe it's a fictional world! Or fantasy!"

The sturdy man said with a certain tone: "What are you thinking? Traveling through time from a museum, of course, it's ancient times!"

"Ancient times are fine too! We can copy poems! Copy lyrics! Copy novels! We must divide them up well, each of us copying one category! Don't copy the same ones!"

The sturdy man gave a "Heh" sound: "Still copying novels? You really think this is a web novel! If I let you copy 'Dream of the Red Chamber', try reciting it for me?"

The handsome youth was stunned: "Although I can't copy it, maybe someone else can." He looked at Wang Yang and asked: "Are you a doctor? What is your major?"

Wang Yang said: "I'm not a doctor, but a doctoral student."

The handsome youth was a bit confused: "Is... is there a difference?"

"Only those who have passed their doctoral dissertation defense are called doctors. I'm currently in my second year of the program and haven't graduated yet."

The sturdy man asked bluntly: "What do you study?"

"Literature."

The sturdy man gave a contemptuous laugh: "That's useless! Literature doesn't understand history; it's useless for time travel!"

The middle-aged man had long heard of Wang Yang's name, and this trip to liaise with Wang Yang was a task assigned by the publishing house, preparing to jointly publish a collection of papers with the museum, and Wang Yang was one of the authors. So he immediately explained: "Dr. Wang is an expert in classical literature—"

The sturdy man interrupted: "So what if he's an expert in classical literature? Does he understand history? Can he recite 'Dream of the Red Chamber'?"

He looked at Wang Yang, his voice firm as iron, as if stating a truth: "Let me tell you, don't talk about doctoral students, even a post-doc couldn't recite 'Dream of the Red Chamber'!"

The handsome youth looked at Wang Yang and asked: "Can you really not write it?"

The sturdy man said impatiently: "Isn't it obvious? I'll tell you, it's impossible for anyone in the whole country to recite 'Dream of the Red Chamber'!" After finishing, he looked at Wang Yang and asked triumphantly: "Tell me, am I right?!"

Wang Yang didn't speak. He had no intention of participating in this boring debate, nor any interest in explaining to the sturdy man the connotations and extensions of classical studies, or the divergence in research perspectives between a broad view of literature and a pure literary view.

As for the question of "Dream of the Red Chamber", it was even further outside his scope of consideration.

Not to mention that "each generation has its own literature," and "each generation has its own strengths." The standards for judging literature change with time. If Li Bai's "Bring in the Wine" were written in the pre-Qin period, it might have been buried in obscurity; if Su Shi's "Reminiscence of the Red Cliff" had been written hundreds of years earlier, it might have been considered vulgar, low-brow ditties.

Now that they didn't even know which space-time they were in, what was the point of talking about copying poems or novels?

Even if they could copy them, were there few literary masters in history?

Li, Du, Su, Xin—which one of them didn't have world-topping literary talent, yet which one of them was successful?

So-called success isn't just about official rank. Even if we only talk about official rank, Su Shi could be considered to have held high positions, but what was the result?

"Do you know what a Redologist is? Even Liu Xinwu has written a sequel to 'Dream of the Red Chamber'," the middle-aged man couldn't help but say to the sturdy man.

Although the sturdy man didn't know who Liu Xinwu was, he retorted quickly: "What kind of thing is his sequel? Can it compare to the original? Besides, I was talking about reciting, what does that have to do with writing a sequel!"

The middle-aged man was about to say more when Wang Yang suddenly said: "Don't you think there's a problem with our accents?"

The three looked at Wang Yang in confusion, and the handsome youth said: "No problem, it's the same as before."

The middle-aged man thought for a moment and said: "I don't feel anything different."

Even the sturdy man, who loved to argue the most, nodded in rare agreement.

"Wait." Wang Yang gathered his thoughts, wanting to speak several times but stopping, then gathering them again, looking hesitant.

The sturdy man said impatiently: "If you have something to say, just say it!"

Wang Yang gestured with his fingers and slowly spat out a word: "Peach blossoms."

He paused, then said word by word: "Peach blossoms bloom, peach blossoms wither."

After speaking, his expression relaxed, as if those few words had consumed quite a bit of effort.

The three had confused expressions, and the youth muttered: "Peach blossoms bloom, peach blossoms wither. What is this?"

The middle-aged man and the sturdy man were simultaneously enlightened after hearing the youth repeat it, and the middle-aged man exclaimed: "What Dr. Wang just said was Mandarin!"

From the moment the four of them woke up on the grass, they had all been speaking in a tone they had never heard before. This tone was strange and awkward, completely different from modern Mandarin pronunciation, but they hadn't expected that such an obvious problem would only be noticed now!

"Are we... still speaking Chinese?" the youth looked at Wang Yang in horror.

Wang Yang thought for a moment and said: "Yes. We are currently speaking Middle Chinese. Middle Chinese has a big difference in pronunciation from modern Chinese. For example, the 'Tao' in 'peach blossom', in Mandarin, the initial is an aspirated voiceless consonant 't', but in Middle Chinese, it's a voiced level tone! And this 'bai' (wither) character, the initial in Mandarin is an unaspirated voiceless consonant, but in Middle Chinese, it became a voiced oblique tone, and for example..."

The sturdy man interrupted anxiously: "Stop quoting books! Tell us something useful, just tell us what that 'Middle' actually means?"

"From Han to Tang," Wang Yang said briefly.

The current literary and historical circles are accustomed to calling the Wei, Jin, Northern and Southern Dynasties, and Sui and Tang periods "Middle Ages," distinguishing them from the "Modern Era" after the Tang-Song transformation.

"So we have traveled to some dynasty between the Han and Tang?" the middle-aged man asked.

Wang Yang nodded. His own main focus was pre-Tang literature and Tang-Song intellectual history, and he also had some research on the cultural history of the two Han dynasties. In terms of historical facts, he was most familiar with the Han and most refined in the Tang. If an irreversible time travel really happened, he would hope it was one of these two eras, so at least he would understand the historical details and could avoid harm.

"We didn't inherit the original host's memories, but we actually inherited the accent?! But that's not important!" The handsome youth waved his hand and said joyfully: "The important thing is that we can copy Song lyrics! No matter which dynasty between Han and Tang this is, there definitely won't be Song lyrics!"

The sturdy man said: "How many Song lyrics can you memorize? If the four of us divide them, how many can each of us get? Doctor, do you memorize many poems and lyrics? You have to contribute them when the time comes, don't hide them!"

Wang Yang was noncommittal, thinking to himself that even in the Tang Dynasty, lyrics were a minor skill, and it was delusional to think of making a living by copying a few Song lyrics. Even in the Song Dynasty, Liu Yong and Jiang Kui were powerful enough at filling lyrics, yet one spent half his life in obscurity, and the other was destitute his whole life. No, my mother is still in the modern era, I must find a way to go back!

"What we should be thinking about now isn't what Song lyrics to copy, but how to go back!" The middle-aged man was full of worry. He didn't have the handsome youth's good mood; his wife and children were still there, how could he not go back?

"Go back? I'm not going back! Time travel is harder than winning the lottery! Especially traveling into such a handsome body! This is definitely the protagonist's fate! We can have whatever we want here, holding the power of the world while awake, and sleeping on the knees of beauties while drunk—isn't that better than going back to move bricks?!" The more the youth spoke, the more spirited he became.

The sturdy man looked at the middle-aged man and laughed: "Of course he wants to go back; he didn't travel into a young body. By the way, how old were you before you traveled?"

The middle-aged man didn't want to pay attention to this contrarian, walked to Wang Yang's side, and asked anxiously: "Dr. Wang, what should we do? I have a wife and children at home, my daughter is only five years old, I have to go back!"

The handsome youth also asked Wang Yang: "By the way, are there limits on the number of concubines in ancient times?"

The sturdy man mocked: "What's the use of asking him?"

"Better than asking you!" the middle-aged man couldn't help but retort.

The sturdy man shrugged: "I'm really laughing, like you—"

Wang Yang stopped the two from arguing further: "Let's talk about business first. Do you remember the scene before traveling?"

He looked at the middle-aged man: "I remember we were in the museum before. At that time, you and I were looking at a soul jar unearthed from an ancient tomb..."

"Right! There was a porcelain jar! I was looking at it too!" the youth said.

Wang Yang pondered and said: "So we should have traveled when we were looking at that soul jar together, which means..."

The middle-aged man slapped his thigh: "I remember! We were five people surrounding that display case!"

The four looked at each other, only then remembering that there was still a person lying in the grass, and hurriedly went to check. That person was struggling to sit up, and seeing the four rushing over, his thin, melon-strip-like face turned pale in an instant.

The handsome youth smiled enthusiastically at the thin man: "Buddy, I have good news for you, we've traveled through time, and from now on, this world is ours!" Then he let out an exaggerated "Huo huo huo" laugh.

The sturdy man curled his lips: "Chuuni."

Neither of them noticed that the thin man's body was trembling slightly.

Wang Yang patted the thin man's shoulder: "Are you okay?"

The thin man's face was deathly pale, his expression dazed, and his body trembled even more violently.

The sturdy man mocked: "Your psychological quality is too poor! That's why you woke up the latest."

Wang Yang glanced at the thin man and said: "Let's stand back in the positions we were in when we were looking at the soul jar in the museum."

Except for the thin man who was hugging his head and sitting in place without moving, the other four stood back in their original positions, finding that it exactly coincided with the positions where they woke up. And in the middle of the five was the grass basket.

Wang Yang walked up to check the grass basket, the sturdy man rushed up in a stride, and together with Wang Yang, lifted the lid of the grass basket, while the middle-aged man and the handsome youth also gathered around.

Wang Yang and the sturdy man took out the things in the grass basket together.

It was an exquisite cyan porcelain jar, with embossed images piled on the jar body, and pavilions and towers molded on the lid.

The middle-aged man's eyes lit up: "It's the soul jar! It's the one we were looking at in the museum! Could it be that we traveled because of this?"

The handsome youth asked: "What is a soul jar?"

Wang Yang said: "A soul jar is a funerary object of the ancients, said to have the function of collecting and calming the soul."

"What is a funerary object?" the youth said, reaching out to touch the images on the jar: "Are these birds carved on it?"

Wang Yang didn't answer the question about funerary objects; his gaze was entirely focused on the images on the jar body:

"This is a Zhu Que. 'Let the Zhu Que be the vanguard, driving the elephant carriage of Taiyi.' Painting a Zhu Que on a soul jar might be to guide the soul. The secret of our time travel might lie in it."

He wanted to take the soul jar into his hands to examine it carefully, but the sturdy man held one end of the soul jar firmly and wouldn't let go no matter what.

"If the soul jar can let us travel, then it must also be able to take us back!" The middle-aged man's voice trembled slightly; this was his only hope of going home. As if to strengthen his confidence, he finished and asked Wang Yang: "Right?"

Although Wang Yang had no bottom in his heart, he nodded to comfort him.

"Let me see it, the secret of the soul jar is actually hidden on the jar body." The sturdy man pulled the soul jar toward his eyes.

"Do you understand soul jars?" the youth asked curiously.

"Of course, I read a post on the internet specifically about soul jars. Look, there are characters on it! Little Doctor, let go, let me take a close look."

Wang Yang let go and leaned his head forward, but didn't see any characters. The handsome youth and the middle-aged man also leaned over.

"Where are the characters?" the youth asked.

"This needs to be washed with water; once washed, you can see the characters." The sturdy man looked confident, took the soul jar, and walked straight toward the river.

Wang Yang's expression turned solemn, and he followed quickly: "I'll go with you."

"No need, no need, you guys wait here. I can do it alone." The sturdy man's tone was rarely polite.

"It doesn't matter, we're just staying here anyway." Wang Yang quickened his pace.

The sturdy man suddenly took off running!

Wang Yang chased closely behind!

The handsome youth and the middle-aged man reacted late and ran over as well.

Seeing they were about to reach the river, the sturdy man held the soul jar high, but instead of throwing it into the river, he smashed it hard against the ground!

With a crash,

The soul jar was smashed to pieces!

Everyone was stunned, and the middle-aged man let out a cry.

Taking advantage of everyone's daze, the sturdy man swept his leg, kicking most of the fragments into the river!

Wang Yang ignored the sturdy man and ran straight to the riverbank, only to see the vast river with its swift current—where was there any shadow of the soul jar fragments?!

The middle-aged man was about to jump into the river like a madman, but was held back tightly by Wang Yang: "Xu Bian! Calm down!"

"You, are you sick!" the youth looked at the sturdy man in shock.

The sturdy man said: "Are you stupid! If we let them figure out how to use the soul jar and take us back, what then?"

The youth was stunned, his voice weakening: "But, but that doesn't mean..."

"Dog bastard!" The middle-aged man's eyes turned red, and he pounced on the sturdy man.

"Stop!" Wang Yang suddenly shouted, his voice stern. The middle-aged man stopped subconsciously. But he found that Wang Yang had bypassed him and was running quickly toward the thin man who had already stood up in the grass.

The others were confused and followed.

"Where are you going?" Wang Yang asked.

The thin man managed a smile: "No... no..."

Wang Yang stared at the thin man and suddenly asked: "What is your favorite movie?"

"What?" The youth was confused.

"Crazy!" The sturdy man muttered dissatisfiedly.

"You idiot!" The middle-aged man grabbed the sturdy man's tattered hemp collar.

"Let go." The sturdy man's face darkened.

Under Wang Yang's gaze, the muscles in the thin man's face trembled even more violently.

"Just say any one, as long as you can name one." Wang Yang closed in on the thin man.

The other three felt something was wrong and looked at the thin man together.

The thin man suddenly pushed Wang Yang, who stumbled back, just happening to step on the vinegar bowl, spilling most of the black vinegar onto his pant leg, soaking a large piece of fabric thoroughly.

The thin man turned and ran wildly, shouting hysterically: "Ghost! Ghost! An evil ghost has possessed me!"

Wang Yang didn't bother to wipe it off and shouted: "Chase him! He's not a modern person!"

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Note: ① The saying "each generation has its own strengths" comes from the Qing Dynasty scholar Jiao Xun, and was later inherited and developed by Wang Guowei, Hu Shi, and others, who believed that literature changes with time, and different eras have different literary genres in which they excel.

② The use of the concept of "Middle Ages" is not absolute in academia. A very interesting phenomenon is that researchers of the Wei, Jin, Northern and Southern Dynasties period are accustomed to calling themselves "Middle Ages," while in the last decade, scholars of the Song to Ming periods also have a trend of calling themselves "Middle Ages." This is benchmarking the "Middle Period" concept in Western Sinology, and some scholars translate it as "Middle Era" rather than "Middle Ages."

However, the expansion of the "Middle Ages" concept is indeed a trend. For example, at the Third Middle Period China conference held in Yale last year, scholars of the Song and post-Song periods actually accounted for more than half! The time period was set as 220-1600 AD. Setting it so broadly, although it can break down barriers, loses the deep meaning of using the "Middle Ages" concept.

③ The perception of limiting literature to limited literary genres like poems, lyrics, and novels actually stems from the pure literary concept represented by modern Western literature. Our country has had a broad view of literature since ancient times. Zhang Taiyan explained literature by saying: "Literature is called 'wen' because there are characters written on bamboo and silk; discussing its methods and styles is called 'literature'." According to Zhang's statement, the two characters "literature" cover a very large scope.

Today, a few key departments of classical literature research still uphold tradition and attach equal importance to subjects such as philology, textual exegesis, and history, rather than limiting themselves to pure literature.

④ The Middle Ages was an era of aristocratic families. Up until the end of the Tang Dynasty, after the Song Dynasty, the aristocratic families died out, completely opening up the commoner society to the present day. Using the Yellow River as a metaphor, the Middle Ages is equivalent to the bend in the Yellow River, with big waves and swift currents, and complex water conditions. Since then, the Yellow River has changed its course, and the landscape has changed greatly. There is a rumor in the streets that "Tang affairs are close to the ancient, Song affairs are close to the modern," which can well reflect the watershed status of the Middle Ages.

However, this sentence is an academic rumor. Rumor-mongers often attribute this sentence to Chen Yinke, and it has even been cited in papers, which is quite strange. As far as my humble knowledge goes, Mr. Chen did not say this. I suspect that the prototype of this rumor might be Mr. Liu Boji saying in "History of Politics and Religion in the Song Dynasty" that "Tang governance is close to the ancient, Song governance is close to the modern."

In short, the Middle Ages is a very interesting era, where civilization and barbarism, magnificence and darkness, greatness and humbleness are intertwined and inseparable, flowing together into a stream. And observing modern people stumbling into the giant current of this era, splashing out waves, and finally forming a monstrous wave, is an even more interesting thing.

I will try my best to replicate the real historical environment of that time. There are no secret manuals or divine skills, no destiny bestowed upon me; it is just a modern person traveling directly into the treacherous and unpredictable Northern and Southern Dynasties era. To survive, one can only rely on oneself.

Once it involves reality, many things become no longer easy. Not to mention anything else, the language barrier is very difficult to overcome. The vast majority of modern people cannot understand ancient sounds, let alone communicate with ancient people. For another example, household registration—our country's ancient household registration system was very complete, and it was not easy for unregistered people to get by.

Why do some slightly more serious time-travel novels write about time travel starting from the protagonist inheriting the original host's memories and writing a few years after the travel?

Because if the opening is a blank slate, it is really difficult to handle. Once memories are inherited, the identity problem is solved simply, and one can simply integrate into ancient times.

But the problem is, integrating into ancient times has never been a simple thing.

I know that writing like this might be laborious and thankless, and many readers may not care about these details, but I still want to carve it finely, wanting to throw a modern person alive into a real, vivid historical world, to see how he survives and how he solves problems.

I will earnestly and meticulously depict this process. Below, please join me in entering this treacherous and magnificent Middle Ages! ===== CHAPTER 2 =====