Chapter 2: The House of Virtue Leaves No Surplus Blessing

Taiwu Year 2, northern border of Great Xia, Yuyang County.

As the sun dipped below the western hills, countless rays of twilight wove with mist, and farmers returned home along country paths beneath the dusk, cattle and sheep following them into their pens.

In a mud-brick house facing north outside the city, a dark-skinned farmer, a girl with two upward-sprouting topknots, and a nobleman dressed in brocade and white silk sat around a worn wooden table, staring hungrily at the empty table.

The flame in the oil lamp on the table flickered, making the dim room seem to sway with it.

Moments later, a peasant woman in a coarse linen skirt emerged from the night outside the main hall, tossed a clay dish and a bamboo basket onto the table, then turned and returned to the kitchen with a cold expression.

“Young Master, you go ahead and eat.”

The farmer pushed the dish and basket toward the nobleman, using the word "show off" with perfect precision.

The dish held salt-pickled radish shreds; the basket held four wild-vegetable buns, each the size of an egg. Yuyang County’s soil was barren, and this was the daily fare of its people—unchanged year-round.

The nobleman picked up one bun from the basket, studied it for a long while, then asked: “Old Qiu, have you ever eaten meat?”

Hearing this, the girl with the topknot suddenly perked up and turned to Old Qiu: “Dad, what’s meat?”

“Something worse than the bun—bite a tiny bit and your belly aches all night.”

“Sss.”

The girl bared her teeth as if already suffering stomach pain, her small face scrunched up.

The nobleman broke half the bun and fed it to the girl, then tore off another piece and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing slowly.

His name is Ji You, a philosophy undergraduate from Linchuan University, fond of singing, dancing, rap, basketball, hiking, photography, rock climbing, and an expert at King of Glory—he was also witty and humorous.

But that was over two years ago.

During his freshman summer, he joined an expedition team crossing the Yunling wilderness, got lost in the mountains, and ended up in this world.

He collapsed on a field ridge and was rescued by a farmer from Yuyang County.

When he woke up, everyone called him Young Master Ji.

Later, Ji You learned that Yuyang County had a wealthy landowning family surnamed Ji, and he looked exactly like their eldest son—even sharing the same name.

He spent many days accepting the truth of his transmigration, but he had no “when you’re here, make peace with it” mindset; after leaving the clinic, he wandered the mountains for half a month searching for a way back.

Then, the hope he’d clung to finally died.

Later, someone told him the Ji family was a renowned landowning clan in Yuyang County, so he thought he’d at least have food and shelter—clearly a perfect start.

But soon he learned it was a bluff.

For the day before he arrived in this world, the Yuyang Ji family had been punished by a cultivation sect for offending them; family members were killed or fled.

That’s why the people of Yuyang County mistook him for the Ji family’s eldest son who had accidentally wandered into the deep mountains during his escape.

Fortunately, Old Master Ji wasn’t a cruel or wicked landowner—he’d treated his servants fairly—so for these two years, this impostor had been mooching meals at the home of Old Qiu, the Ji family’s former steward.

Old Qiu was a loyal servant of the Ji family; he was said to have been rescued from the roadside by Old Master Ji when he was nearly starved to death.

So even after losing the estate, he still called Ji You “Young Master.”

But Old Qiu’s wife disliked him intensely—since he stopped being steward, he’d taken up farming, and their harvest barely fed their three-person household; no one wanted an extra mouth to feed.

“In two days, the county will send people to collect taxes and tribute. Our family eats more than others, yet we’re still short.”

“I’ll go borrow some tomorrow—we’ll scrape together enough.”

Old Qiu chewed his bun and called out to his wife standing in the kitchen.

Every autumn equinox, the people of Great Xia must surrender sixty percent of their harvest to support the imperial court and the immortals—even now, as the people starve, the rate has never been reduced, leaving corpses littering the land each winter.

This was not unusual in Great Xia; it was only remarkable if a commoner survived the winter.

Worse still, elderly people too frail to farm but still needing food were sent to the Elderly Pavilion—otherwise known as living tombs.

Li Shuping entered carrying a bowl of wild-vegetable soup: “Borrow? Where from? In this world, who has surplus grain?”

“I still have one distant relative—I’m sure they won’t abandon us.”

“Didn’t you say you were an orphan, adopted by the Ji family at age eight? What relative could you possibly have?”

“I have an old father-in-law.” Old Qiu muttered, head bowed.

Li Shuping froze, then flew into a rage: “Ever since I married you, I’ve had no good days—and now you want to borrow from my family again?”

“When I was steward of the Ji family, I did let you enjoy a few good days…”

Li Shuping saw Old Qiu reaching for the basket and slapped his hand away: “Stop eating. Give it to the Young Master—he’s still growing.”

The sharp-tongued Mrs. Qiu was, in truth, a heart of butter beneath her blade.

Ji You reached toward the basket, touched by her kindness—then heard her next words echo through the room: “Eat well, get strong—you’ll be pulling the plow in spring.”

“How can the Young Master work the fields?”

Li Shuping crushed the bun in her hand and said: “The Ji family is gone. If you don’t work the land, what will you eat? Only you still treat him like a Young Master—otherwise, how could the daughter of County Magistrate Fang have broken off their engagement?”

The original Young Master Ji had been betrothed since childhood to Fang Ruoyao, the magistrate’s daughter.

But on the third day after Ji You was brought to the clinic, a carriage arrived from the county office.

County Magistrate Fang Zhongzheng arrived with his daughter Fang Ruoyao, forced Ji You to sign a divorce agreement, and demanded the betrothal be annulled.

Ji You was still lying in the clinic, half-conscious, when his fingerprint was pressed onto the paper.

But he didn’t care—he wasn’t mourning someone else’s future wife.

And just days ago, word came from the city: Fang Ruoyao had been selected by the Heavenly Book Academy of Great Xia’s Sacred Sect and would travel to the capital to begin cultivation.

In the Qingyun Realm, cultivators were held in highest esteem—even the imperial family showed them deference—but cultivation was not something anyone could pursue.

Great Xia’s law stated: commoners must only engage in production; private cultivation was punishable by death—and would bring doom upon three generations of kin.

So for Fang Ruoyao to become a legitimate cultivator was truly ascending to heaven.

After this news spread, the Young Master Ji was mocked for a long time.

But this wasn’t Ji You’s fault—it was because the original Young Master Ji had a terrible reputation.

Li Shuping now used Fang’s daughter as an example not to mock, but to make Ji You and Old Qiu understand: the Ji family was already gone, everything had changed—she wanted him to face reality.

Ji You broke off a piece of bun and fed it to Old Qiu’s daughter: “Next autumn, I’ll rise to fortune—I’ll treat Qiu Ru to the finest meats and wines.”

“I want to eat the finest meats and wines!”

Qiu Ru’s eyes sparkled; she gripped the bun and bit down hard.

The girl was five years old; she had no memory of the Ji family’s fall and had never known comfort—she didn’t even remember the taste of meat.

Li Shuping sighed inwardly: they could barely afford a meal, yet he dreamed of feasts—this Young Master must be delusional.

But even in hardship, there were small blessings—like her foolish daughter.

Qiu Ru was born frail and sickly, coughing every day—but over the past two years, her health improved dramatically. Though the family had little food and no meat, she grew steadily stronger.

Doctor Chen of the county, a famed healer within ten li, had marveled at it and declared it unnatural.

But Old Qiu often told her it was karma—good deeds bring good rewards—and urged her to treat the Ji Young Master well. Yet when would this poverty end?

“I’m done eating.”

Ji You suddenly spoke and stood up.

Old Qiu blinked: “Young Master, you barely ate—keep going.”

“No need. We have no surplus grain—save the rest for later.”

At Hai Hour, the night was deep, the moon hung above the willow branches, lanterns had been extinguished by moonlight, and all was silent.

Ji You left Old Qiu’s home and walked along the dark path toward the city. Above, a crimson streak slashed across the sky like a bleeding wound, staining the surrounding night a faint pink.

This was no rare celestial phenomenon—it was said to have existed since ancient times and endured to this day.

“What does ‘Heaven’s Death’ mean?”

“Does it mean Heaven itself is dead?”

Ji You recalled the series of syllables he’d heard on the walkie-talkie the day he transmigrated, utterly baffled.

Just then, he arrived before a two-courtyard residence and pushed open the gate.

He did not live at Old Qiu’s—he lived in the Ji family’s last remaining ancestral home.

The compound was large, but all valuables had been sold by the Ji family during their escape; now only broken bricks and shattered tiles remained.

Ji You stepped into the second courtyard and saw, in the neighboring yard, a scholar in plain robes seated atop a willow tree—his face as fair as jade, his eyebrows sharp as swords. He had hung an oil lamp from a branch and read an old scroll by its light, framed against the silver crescent moon.

But when he noticed Ji You approaching, the scholar in the neighboring yard removed the lamp and leapt down from the willow.

Ji You was used to this scene and ignored it, turning back to his room, lighting a candle, shutting the windows and doors, and carefully drawing black curtains over them.

“Pass me a Huazi.”

He pulled open a drawer and, by the candle’s dim glow, withdrew a stick of incense called “Hua Xian Yin.”

This incense had a calming effect, allowing instant meditation.

Ji You inserted the incense into the censer, kicked off his boots, sat on the bed, and within a few breaths, faint spiritual light shimmered around his body.

(End of Chapter)