Chapter 1: Hard to Live, Hard to Live!

Great Shun, Jiang-Huai marshlands, Yixing Market.

The polished bluestone slabs reflected the moonlight like mirrors; withered leaves fell but did not accumulate, drifting and spinning across the ground.

Wind surged from the ten-thousand-li river surface, flowed away through the open roof, and trickled in wisps through the door cracks.

As if stirred by the wind, the weeds stood crooked yet upright; inside the earthen house, the deathly silent boy regained a hint of life.

Hungry!

So hungry!

Liang Qu opened his eyes, his gaze unfocused, feeling his stomach churn as if knotted by knives, curled into a ball on the bed board.

"Liang Qu, he's also called Liang Qu? Mother died in difficult childbirth, father died of wind-chill last month. What a standard opening? Only one boat, one room..."

"Wait, the boat was stolen too. Baldy Zhang bullied me for being young... Damn, he looks truly disgusting. Is he a toad spirit?"

Forcing down the hunger to digest the chaotic memory fragments, Liang Qu appeared dazed.

The Jiang-Huai marshlands supported tens of thousands of fishermen; had he actually become one of those little fishermen?

Yellowish sewage, piercing sirens, nasal membranes burning with pain, and the huge bright spot cast by a high-beam flashlight on the water surface.

Not a dream.

He had truly fallen into the water to save someone and drowned...

Of course; working overtime overnight to rush a manuscript until midnight, how could he have the energy to save anyone? Plunging in suddenly, he was clearly doomed.

"Pity I had no children; otherwise, I'd definitely secure extra points for the college entrance exam, winning at the starting line."

Liang Qu collapsed onto the bed, feeling an exhaustion rising from the deepest part of his heart, as if the past twenty-plus years were merely traces of falling autumn leaves that never truly existed.

Nothing gained, nothing loved, nothing achieved.

Life was truly meaningless.

Gurgling.

Well, there was meaning after all; this was damnably hungry.

Hunger drove Liang Qu to seek survival; transmigration had cured his high myopia, as if wiping away a layer of mist, making everything around him exceptionally clear, yet looking around, he saw only a bed, a stove, and an empty vat.

Dead memories attacked again.

"Get out, get out, jinx! Still want to borrow grain? My own Sixth Son isn't even full."

"You know too, the autumn tax is imminent..."

No, find some water first.

Stomach pain constantly stimulated his brain nerves; Liang Qu gritted his teeth, slid off the bed board, struggled to support himself against the yellow earth wall, and staggered outside, but after just a few steps he was panting heavily and had to sit on the threshold to rest.

"This is too weak."

Cold sweat broke out on Liang Qu's head, his palms too weak to open; he found the body's frailty hard to believe—could it be that he would die again immediately after arriving?

Icy fear seemed like a giant hand clutching his heart.

All that talk about not fearing death after dying once was false; human fear of death is carved into the genes.

Clatter-clatter.

Wheel hubs pressed against the bluestone bricks, emitting a distinctive sound.

Someone!

His heart nearly leaped out of his throat.

"Ignore it, go around..."

"Bad luck, don't get entangled by a starving ghost..."

He could not hear clearly what the several carters were discussing, only that the sound of wheels grew distant.

Words rose to his lips but were swallowed back; the street's darkness was endless, and Liang Qu felt a chill rise from his heart, his blood gradually turning cold.

He wanted to find a well, but he lacked the strength to take even one step.

"Ashui, why are you sitting here?"

Ashui, who? Me?

Glancing over, he saw a dark-skinned man standing beside him; Liang Qu blurted out, "Uncle Chen?"

Memory told him the man before him was named Chen Qingjiang, his neighbor.

Right, I am Ashui.

His name was the same in both lives; because the character 'Qu' contained water, the villagers called him Ashui.

Liang Qu steadied his breath; the scene just now made him too weary to ask for anything, so he chuckled dryly, "I got tired walking and sat down to rest. What about you, Uncle Chen?"

"Just came back from selling fish in town."

""

"Town?"

"Yes, the fish are fat these days and sell easily, so of course I went to town. Selling to the fish pens means losing out; I didn't rent their boat, so I can sell to whomever I want. But you, looking so well, why sit at the doorway resting? Aren't you afraid of catching wind-chill?"

Chen Qingjiang curiously leaned closer, and upon seeing that haggard appearance, he was startled with horror.

How could it be like this?

In his shock, he suddenly remembered Liang Qu had lost his father; perhaps the family had long run out of grain. He subconsciously reached toward his chest, but then hesitation crossed his face.

There was just one sesame cake there; he had walked over ten li, brought his catch to the city to earn eight extra cash coins, and bought it specifically for his crying youngest son to taste something fresh.

It was already dark; the cake wrapped in his chest hadn't even cooled completely, and now he was about to give it to someone else. To say he didn't feel heartache would be false.

"Papa, why isn't Brother Water coming to play with me?"

"Because Brother Water's papa has gone; he has no time to play with you."

"Why has he gone?"

"..."

Chen Shun was Chen Qingjiang's eldest son, only six years old, who usually loved playing with Liang Qu most.

Chen Qingjiang thought of when he was over ten; Liang Qu, then the same age as his own child, also liked to play with him. In a trance, the figures seemed to overlap.

Sigh...

Chen Qingjiang took the sesame cake from his chest and unwrapped the oil paper.

"Ashui, eat quickly."

"Uncle Chen! This?"

Liang Qu's Adam's apple bobbed; thinking it was another dead end, he unexpectedly found a ray of hope. He wanted to say something, but the rich wheat aroma was so tempting that his trembling hands reached out and took it on their own.

Blood seeped from his cracked lips; the taste of rust mixed with the scent of wheat and oil, and he stuffed it all into his mouth at once.

His scant remaining saliva was squeezed out, mixing with the sesame cake as it slid down into his stomach. After swallowing a few mouthfuls and regaining some strength, Liang Qu hurriedly expressed his thanks.

"Eat up, then go home quickly; don't loiter at the doorway."

"Mm..."

Chen Qingjiang brushed the dust from his trouser legs, stood up, and left, yet his mood grew even heavier.

If it is this hard now, won't it be even harder when winter arrives? Should I discuss with A-Di to spare a few catties of grain? But Second Treasure just saw a physician recently; can we spare any?

Straw sandals rubbed against the muddy road as he walked farther and farther away.

"Phew, so fragrant!"

After finishing the last bite of cake, Liang Qu gazed at Chen Qingjiang's retreating figure but could not call out.

In recent years of peace without disaster, one stone of rice cost about one thousand cash coins.

Uncle Chen's family had five mouths to feed: one elder, two children, a wife, and himself. One season required at least four stones of rice, totaling thirty-three cash coins daily just for grain.

Spring fishing, autumn catching, summer breeding, winter fighting; in autumn when grass was lush and fish fat, Uncle Chen's daily income was roughly eighty cash coins. It sounded acceptable, but in reality, it was far from enough.

Cloth, salt, and vegetables all cost money; the fishery tax was even heavier than the agricultural tax, plus various miscellaneous fees. Not to mention distant costs, the docking fee at the wharf alone was two cash coins daily, rising to four during the flood season. In winter, income plummeted sharply, and if one fell ill during that period...

Even one sesame cake was likely something Chen Qingjiang had painstakingly squeezed out to bring to his child, yet now it had become a life-saving grace for him.

Truly, adversity reveals true friendship.

In the night sky, myriad stars shone brilliantly, glittering with light.

Where in a smoggy small city could one find such a beautiful scene? Precisely because of this, it constantly reminded him—this was a completely different world.

Leaning against the wall, loneliness surged over Liang Qu like a tide; currently, he could not fish and had no source of livelihood.

He could not figure out how to survive, let alone shamelessly speak words of repaying kindness.

As for selling modern techniques for money... that was also difficult.

A rough scan of the empty street showed many residences had stepped horse-head gable walls, typically with walls higher than the eaves.

This indicated that the current era's productivity had developed to a certain extent, sufficient for brick-and-stone structures to replace ancient rammed-earth construction; eaves no longer needed to extend outward to shield walls from rain, and ultimately, to prevent fire spread, they evolved into fire-sealing gable walls where the walls stood higher than the eaves.

Being able to popularize brick-and-stone structures meant Great Shun's productivity was at least comparable to the Ming and Qing dynasties of his previous life.

His original body was the lowest of the low, having seen little of value, but Liang Qu knew that white sugar, refined salt, horseshoes, steelmaking, and soap were basically irrelevant to him.

Furthermore, this world was not simple; in his memories, a fierce individual in the neighboring town could punch through a person-high granite rock, definitely no ordinary person.

But even if it were relevant, it would be useless.

Why did ancients favor male offspring? Looking at the stolen boat made it clear: without a strong laborer in the family, one could truly be bullied to death.

If even a boat was like this, what would happen if one saved up ready cash?

For an orphan in ancient times, survival was as difficult as ascending to heaven; if not sold off by others, one was simply waiting to die.

Damn it, why a fisherman opening, and a fisherman whose boat was stolen at that? Even becoming a farmer would have been better!

Hard, hard, hard!

Just then, a vast righteous qi suddenly pierced through Liang Qu's mind; countless memories churned, like eating a whole pack of mint candies in summer, cooling him to the very top of his head.

Damn, damn, damn, what is going on?

Liang Qu was at a loss, not knowing what to do with his hands or feet.

Wan Xing felt the sensation arrive quickly and depart just as fast; as the strangeness in his mind gradually subsided, it was like clouds dispersing to reveal the blue sky once more.

A massive cauldron of peculiar design manifested within his sea of consciousness, its surface interwoven with endless mysterious patterns, leaving him dumbfounded.

Its name was—Ze Ding!