Am I the Young Master?

"Your subordinate Yuè Jiāo Nú pays respects to the Young Master."

Beneath the pitch-black night sky, in a dilapidated farmhouse courtyard, only the bean-sized oil lamp cupped in Duàn Yì's hand gave off a faint glow. By that dim light, Duàn Yì could roughly make out the woman before him in full.

She looked to be around twenty, with an oval face, willow-leaf brows, cherry lips, skin as white as snow, and a pearl flower pinned amid her thick black hair. She was truly a beautiful woman.

Looking over the rest of her, he saw black, form-fitting clothes that perfectly outlined her graceful, alluring figure. A faint fragrance drifted over as well, her charm enough to make one drool.

Of course, that was only if one ignored the longsword in the beauty's right hand, still gleaming dark red.

Duàn Yì's gaze swept over the unmistakably real sword as if by accident. His thin lips pressed together. Rather than immediately respond to the woman calling herself Yuè Jiāo Nú, he reviewed the memories he had only recently digested.

He had been born in the seventh year of Yuanfeng in Great Xia. His current household registration was in Lin'an County, Wei Prefecture, Hebei Province, under the Xia Dynasty. More precisely, he was from Yuxi Village in Datong Town outside Lin'an County. He was fourteen years old and unmarried.

His biological father had been a scholar, a refined and handsome middle-aged man. Duàn Yì had learned to read and write from Father Duàn, but Father Duàn had died early, passing away five years ago.

His mother had been gentle and virtuous yet strong of character. Though not especially beautiful, she had been just as great. After Father Duàn's death, she had raised Duàn Yì while burdened by illness, only to pass away herself last month.

According to Duàn Yì's memories, ever since he could remember, he had lived with Father Duàn and Mother Duàn and had never met any other relatives. Now, out of nowhere, a swordswoman wielding a bloodstained blade had appeared and respectfully called him Young Master. Could this be some kind of honey trap?

But then he remembered that his pockets were empty, and he had filled his stomach for three meals straight with clear soup and wild vegetables he had dug up himself. What could she possibly want from him? Thus, he dismissed that rather unreliable suspicion.

"Big sister, do you have anything to eat? If not, silver will do too."

Duàn Yì decided that no matter what she wanted, what her purpose was, or even whether she harbored ill intent, as long as she gave him a bite to eat, he would do anything except sell his ass.

It was not that poverty had crushed his spirit, nor that he had reached the end of the road, nor that the threat of starving to death loomed over him—otherwise, Duàn Yì would never have so shamelessly said such things to a woman he had just met. After all, he had the pride of a transmigrator.

"Th-this... Your subordinate fought desperately through the encirclement and only shook off my pursuers after several attempts. I have no silver on me."

The beauty—Yuè Jiāo Nú—first felt around on herself, then blushed prettily. Not daring to look at Duàn Yì, she answered in a soft, timid voice. That tender appearance was utterly adorable.

Yet Duàn Yì had no reaction at all. Beyond disappointment, there was only impatience and indifference. Before life itself, all beauty was but drifting clouds. No matter how pretty she was, she could not fill his stomach. What damn use was that?

Still, with the beauty holding a longsword, he did not dare show it too clearly. He could only hold up the lamp in one hand and point at his shriveled stomach with the other, saying weakly,

"I really don't have the strength to talk right now. If you truly need something from me, then get me something to eat."

Seeing Duàn Yì's pale face and unsteady stance, as though he might faint at any moment, Yuè Jiāo Nú seemed to realize something. She cupped her hands toward Duàn Yì in salute, then with a whoosh, leaped a great distance away. In the dead of night, it was truly frightening.

Naturally, it gave Duàn Yì quite a scare too. Damn, is this beauty a rabbit? She jumps around this happily?

The beauty had already vanished without a trace, and the surroundings were deathly still. Duàn Yì slowly shut the wooden door, which could barely offer any protection, then walked to the center of the courtyard. After adjusting his position, he sat on a small wooden stool facing the entrance, resting his chin on his hand as he considered his current situation.

He was a transmigrator, a webnovel writer in his previous life who specialized in wuxia. He had no practical life skills whatsoever. As for advanced techniques like making guns and cannons or developing glass and soap, he did not know the first thing. That left Duàn Yì somewhat discouraged.

The little Duàn Yì from those memories had been even more hopeless—a mere brat raised by his widowed mother. Aside from reading a few books and relying on his strength to help with chores, he had possessed no survival skills at all.

No, that was not entirely accurate. Knowledge was power. Duàn Yì was, after all, a literate scholar. Though his literary talent was nothing special, writing letters for people or helping them settle accounts would not be a problem.

With that thought, Duàn Yì felt much more at ease. At the very least, if that suddenly appearing beauty eventually discovered she had found the wrong person, he would not starve to death. That alone was tremendous news.

And if luck was on his side and the beauty had not found the wrong person, would he not strike it rich?

Young Master—clearly, this was no ordinary identity. Perhaps she had come to take him back to inherit a fortune worth hundreds of millions. Sure enough, Heaven favored transmigrators.

Yet Duàn Yì had overlooked the blood on the beauty's sword and the fact that she had fought her way out of an encirclement.

Before Duàn Yì could let his imagination run wild, someone suddenly flipped over the earthen wall more than two meters high. The shock sent Duàn Yì tumbling off the small stool onto his backside, extinguishing the oil lamp beside him. Yet he did not cry out. Instead, he crouched on the spot, gathered his courage, and asked the shadow in a deep voice,

"Who is it? Is that you, Sister Yuè?"

Lin'an County, where Duàn Yì lived, was a small county in Wei Prefecture. Mountains surrounded its territory, and its population was sparse. Since he was in Yuxi Village outside the county, there were even fewer people around.

In his memory, aside from Yuè Jiāo Nú, whom he had just met and who seemingly knew martial arts, there was no one else who could vault over the wall so easily.

"Young Master, do not worry. It is me. Jiaonu caught a wild rabbit outside the village. It will be enough to fill your stomach."

Yuè Jiāo Nú was quite capable. She had only been gone for a short while, yet she had already caught a rabbit.

Duàn Yì was overjoyed. He relit the oil lamp and brought Yuè Jiāo Nú into the kitchen of the impoverished household to start a fire.

Yuè Jiāo Nú proved deft with her hands. Rolling up her sleeves, she used her slender jade-like hands to place the lifeless rabbit into a pot of boiling water to simmer. After some time, she took it out, plucked its fur, skinned it, and roasted it...

The entire process made Duàn Yì drool without end. Once the meat entered his mouth, he devoured it like a wolf. Yuè Jiāo Nú watched with a pleased expression, seemingly delighted that her cooking satisfied the Young Master.

Before long, the whole rabbit, save for its bones, had entered Duàn Yì's stomach. His once-shriveled belly had rounded out, the contrast startling.

After eating, Duàn Yì brought Yuè Jiāo Nú into the battered room. He sat on the wooden bed covered in bedding to digest his meal, while Yuè Jiāo Nú stood in the room with her legs pressed tightly together and her waist slightly bent, as though saluting him.

There was nothing he could do. Duàn Yì had told her to sit, but this woman was stubborn as an ox and refused. Fine then—one could not force a pig to drink water by pressing down its head. He would let her be.

"You say I'm your Young Master. Tell me exactly what is going on. You haven't mistaken me for someone else, have you?"

Duàn Yì was crafty. Before Yuè Jiāo Nú could speak, he raised the possibility of mistaken identity first, lest the woman discover the truth later, become enraged, and cut him down with a single stroke of her sword.

"There can be no mistake. Half of the Longevity Lock around Young Master's neck is identical to the half in Jiaonu's possession. Joined together, they form one whole. This is the token. The Young Palace Mistress must have given her own Longevity Lock to the Young Master."

As she explained, Yuè Jiāo Nú drew half a silver lock from her bosom. By the oil lamp on the table, she brought it close to Duàn Yì for him to inspect.

Duàn Yì took a careful look, his hands moving quickly as well. He removed the Longevity Lock he had worn around his neck since childhood. Comparing them briefly, he found that they truly had been split from the same lock.

"My father was called Duàn Yuè, and my mother was called Yán Fāngfēi. May I ask who this Young Palace Mistress you speak of is? My father or my mother?"

After confirming it, Duàn Yì relaxed considerably. At least Yuè Jiāo Nú had not found the wrong person, so he no longer needed to fear that she would fly into a rage and start slaughtering people.

"The Young Palace Mistress's given name was indeed Yán Fāngfēi. Jiaonu truly did not find the wrong person. Young Master, where is the Young Palace Mistress now?"

When Duàn Yì named his mother, Yuè Jiāo Nú became even more certain she had found the right person. She was extremely excited, likely because she had only been guessing from the token before and had not been fully certain.

Duàn Yì did not waste words. He directly explained his current circumstances to Yuè Jiāo Nú in one breath. The meaning was practically, Hurry up and take me away from this damned place so I can go inherit the family fortune.

Yet upon suddenly hearing that Duàn Yì's mother had passed away, Yuè Jiāo Nú seemed as though she had been struck by a bolt from the blue. The blow left her trembling, her lips quivering. No matter how she tried to compose herself, she could not. Tears immediately poured from her beautiful eyes like spring water, a sight painful to behold.

Though Duàn Yì was a transmigrator, the memories had fused into his soul and felt as real as if he had lived them himself. He shared that grief.

But he was a man, and reason outweighed emotion somewhat. Sensing that the woman before him had a close relationship with his mother, his curiosity deepened. Just as he was about to ask, Yuè Jiāo Nú had already dropped to one knee before him.

"Young Master, since the Young Palace Mistress is no longer here, you are the Old Palace Master's direct blood relative. Please kill the rebels and restore the rightful line of our Moon Worship Palace. Jiaonu is willing to brave boiling water and tread on fire, never shrinking from any sacrifice."

This succession of sudden changes left Duàn Yì dazed and confused. He stared blankly, completely unable to understand what this beauty was doing.

Wasn't I supposed to go back and inherit the family fortune?

Rebels? Revenge? Restore the rightful line? And that damned "brave boiling water and tread on fire"—could it be that this was not a blessing, but a disaster?