Chapter 669: I Am Zhu Yue

Where is this……

Zhu Yue rubbed his forehead, which felt like it was about to split open, and struggled to open his eyes.

His vision was blurry for a while before it gradually cleared.

What came into view was a filthy cloth tent ceiling whose color was indiscernible, with a few strands of pallid daylight leaking through the seams.

The air was filled with a complex stench: rotting grass, excrement, sweat grime, and a metallic, rust-like odor.

Beneath him lay icy, damp ground that ached his bones.

He suddenly sat up, and a wave of intense dizziness hit him.

What's going on?

He lowered his head to look at himself.

He wore a tattered, mud-stained gray short jacket, the coarse fabric scratching his skin.

His limbs were thin, his skin darkly tanned, and his palms were covered in thick calluses and fresh abrasions.

These were certainly not the hands that had long held pens and operated instruments.

The last moment of his memory still lingered in the laboratory.

The spacetime theory simulation program had reached a critical point, energy readings spiked wildly, and the alarm wailed…

Then came a blinding white light, and an excruciating pain as if his soul were being torn apart.

When he awoke again, he was here.

A damned place that certainly did not belong to the twenty‑first century.

Time‑traveled?

The thought popped into his mind, and even he found it absurd.

Yet everything before him—what he smelled, what he felt—coldly confirmed the most impossible conjecture.

He drew a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

Panic was useless.

He was Zhu Yue, a researcher who trusted logic and evidence; no matter how unbelievable the situation, he first needed to gather information.

First, examine himself.

Aside from weakness, hunger, and a slight headache, there were no serious injuries.

The original owner of this body seemed to have fainted from weakness due to some cause.

He tried to summon his memories, but discovered that some unfamiliar memory fragments had appeared in his mind.

They were not a complete experience, more like disjointed feelings and images: endless hunger, freezing rainy nights, ferocious soldiers, and many people crowded together in a camp reeking of despair…

In these fragments, a name repeatedly appeared: Zhu Zhongba.

And also this place: outside Haozhou City, the Zaimin Yingdi camp.

Yuan Dynasty?

Zhizheng Era?

Zhu Yue's heart sank sharply.

As someone who had studied history quite thoroughly, he knew all too well what these terms meant.

The late Yuan dynasty was a chaotic era of famine, plague, warlord conflict, and lives as cheap as grass.

And Zhu Zhongba… wasn't that Zhu Yuanzhang's original name?

Have I become Zhu Yuanzhang?

What a joke!

The very founder of the Ming Dynasty, the Hongwu Emperor?

After the shock, an intense sense of absurdity welled up.

Should he feel excited? To become the renowned founding emperor of history?

No.

He felt only trouble—great trouble.

He knew Zhu Yuanzhang's life script: from beggar to monk, from rebel foot soldier to regional commander, experiencing nine deaths out of ten, enduring countless betrayals, slaughter, and torment.

It was a road paved with countless corpses, stained with blood.

He had no desire whatsoever to walk it.

He wanted to return to the laboratory, to the twenty‑first century with electricity, internet, coffee, where he could peacefully study the spacetime mystery.

But obviously, he could not go back.

At least for now, he had no clue.

Stay calm, Zhu Yue, stay calm.

He whispered to himself.

First solve the survival problem. Only by staying alive can we figure out what happened and possibly find a way back.

He observed his surroundings again.

It was an extremely crude tent, with nothing but the filthy ground cover beneath him and almost nothing else.

Outside came noisy voices—wailing, cursing, feeble talk—woven into a desolate background.

At that moment, the tent flap was lifted.

A similarly sallow‑skinned, thin young man with a frightened look darted in, and upon seeing him sitting up, instantly showed a delighted expression.

Zhongba! You're awake! Good heavens, you scared me to death—you've been unconscious for half a day!

The memory fragments matched: Xu Da, his childhood playmate.

Zhu Yue opened his mouth, momentarily unsure what tone or expression to use toward this "historical figure."

Finally, he just nodded, responding in a dry, hoarse voice.

"Mm, awake."

Xu Da leaned over, lowering his voice:

"How are you? Hungry? I… I also didn't manage to get any food; today the government troops are searching tightly, even digging up grass roots is hard."

Zhu Yue felt violent spasms coming from his stomach; the hunger was so real and fierce.

"Do you have water?" he asked.

"Yes, yes."

Xu Da turned around and fished out a broken pottery jar from the corner of the tent; it contained a little over half a jar of murky water.

"That's all there is; have some."

Zhu Yue took it, seeing the fine impurities floating in the water, his brows knitting tight.

Drinking this water might well make him collapse sick.

But in the face of survival, hygiene standards have to be postponed.

He carefully took a sip; the cold, murky water slid down his throat, slightly easing his burning thirst.

"Thank you," he said.

Xu Da stared for a moment, feeling that after "Zhongba" woke up he seemed a bit odd, but couldn't pinpoint what was odd.

"Why are you being polite with me?" Xu Da sat down beside him, face full of worry, "Zhongba, when will our days get a head? I heard Elder Brother Liu Futong in the north has risen in revolt, fighting fiercely; if not, we too…"

Zhu Yue didn't respond.

His mind was racing.

Late Yuan dynasty, Haozhou, the refugee camp, Xu Da…

The curtain of history has already been drawn.

And he, a soul from the future, had been inexplicably thrown onto the center of the stage, taking the place of the original protagonist.

What should he do?

Should he, following the historical records, step by step walk the old path of Zhu Yuanzhang?

No.

That would be not only extremely difficult, but also…

He lifted his head, his gaze as if trying to pierce the tattered tent, looking toward the gray sky.

Moreover, is this world truly the historical world he knows so well?

Why, at the moment he woke up, amidst the initial shock and confusion, did he faintly feel an extremely slight sensation, as if something had "gazed" upon him?

That was not a human gaze.

It was more like… an indescribable, subtle "disturbance" of the environment itself.

Perhaps it was an illusion.

Perhaps it was a mental fog brought on by the time travel.

But he is a scientist.

A scientist does not lightly deny any minor abnormal perception.

"Zhongba? What are you thinking about?" Xu Da gave him a push.

Zhu Yue came to, looking at Xu Da's face written with anxiety.

"I was thinking…"

He slowly opened his mouth; his voice remained hoarse, yet carried a calm that Xu Da could not understand.

"Just drinking water isn't enough."

"We need to get something to eat."

"Real food."