Xiang Yang

"First bow, second bow, third bow, ceremony complete, family expresses gratitude."

After a deep, clear shout, Xiang Yang, tears still wet on his face, bowed to a burly man in constable's attire and said, "Thank you, Uncle Wang."

Uncle Wang nodded, sighed, and patted Xiang Yang's shoulder. "My condolences. Though Old Xiang is gone, life must go on. I've already spoken with the County Magistrate. You can rest for a few days. After you've handled Old Xiang's affairs, come to the yamen."

Xiang Yang nodded, a hint of gratitude on his face. Before he could say more, another mourner arrived, requiring a return bow. He repeated his previous actions and expression, thanking a person in fine silk clothes who looked quite well-off.

This was a small mourning hall, the entire room no more than twenty square meters. Some parts of the walls had peeled, revealing the yellow bricks beneath, patchy white and yellow, making the place look impoverished and simple.

Against the north wall lay a gray coffin. In front of it was an altar with white candles, laden with offerings. White streamers hung from the crossbeam. The scene only lacked a black and white photograph, but unfortunately, this was a feudal society akin to ancient China, and such sophisticated items didn't exist yet.

Xiang Yang was fifteen this year. He was handsome and delicate, with red lips and white teeth, and his phoenix eyes were filled with tears, making him appear particularly helpless and frail in his mourning clothes. There's a saying, "To look good, wear mourning attire," and it fit this rather handsome youth perfectly.

Today was the second day of the wake. No less than fifty people from Anyuan County, high and low, had come to offer incense and pay respects to Xiang Da Niu. For someone who had been a constable for decades, earning only three qian a month, this was incredible.

Xiang Da Niu, originally from Anyuan County in Qingjiang Prefecture, was the sole heir in his family for generations. His ancestors were all farmers, toiling the land. He, however, achieved some success. After providing useful intelligence to a county official conducting secret investigations, he was recruited into the yamen as a yamen runner.

He worked there for a few years, and due to his honest and sincere nature, he gained the favor of the County Magistrate. He successfully transferred to become a constable and, through the matchmaker Third Aunt, married the daughter of a poor scholar in the county. It was said that this beautiful young woman marrying a rough man who couldn't read a single character caused quite a stir in the county. It was the epitome of a "loser's" comeback.

However, everything changed after Xiang Yang was born. First, Xiang Yang's mother died during childbirth. Then, the County Magistrate who had discovered Xiang Da Niu's talent was promoted. The new County Magistrate, Lord Li, felt that Xiang Da Niu, not being someone he had promoted, lacked loyalty. He kept Xiang Da Niu as a minor constable for over ten years.

If it had continued like this, being ordinary wouldn't have been so bad; at least he would have been safe and lived a stable life.

Who knew that a few days ago, the Black Wind Stronghold outside the county town descended to plunder. The usually listless Xiang Da Niu, for some unknown reason, fought with incredible ferocity, killing two mountain bandits before being cut down by a hail of blades himself. In the end, he received commendations and rewards from the County Magistrate, posthumously promoted to Honorary Constable Captain. Xiang Yang was also exceptionally granted the opportunity to follow in his father's footsteps, promoted from a mere yamen runner assistant to a constable in the county yamen.

It could be said that among the more than fifty people paying respects to Xiang Da Niu, apart from a few old colleagues he had known for over a decade, most were there out of respect for the County Magistrate. Otherwise, who would care about a minor constable dying?

As for Xiang Yang, with his only relative, his father, gone, he was truly alone in the world, with no other family. If he hadn't been able to become a constable in the yamen to earn a living, he would have been begging for food before long.

In front of the mourning hall, Xiang Yang was mostly supported by his neighbors, such as Aunt Wu, who ran a steamed bun stall, Uncle Li, the blacksmith, and Mr. Liu, a former student of Xiang Yang's maternal grandfather. They all looked at Xiang Yang, who was wiping away tears, and felt great sympathy. "What a poor child!"

Outside the mourning hall, the sky gradually darkened. Seeing that no more people were coming to pay respects, everyone packed up and left. Before leaving, Aunt Wu handed Xiang Yang a small basket, patted his head, and said with concern, "These are the steamed buns I made for you, dear. You can't go hungry while keeping vigil tonight. Don't push yourself. If you need any help, just come to my place."

She was a simple village woman with genuine affection, which moved Xiang Yang greatly. He nodded repeatedly, his hands gripping the basket until they turned pale.

Mr. Liu stood beside Xiang Yang, stroking his black beard. He took a folded white paper from his huai and handed it to Xiang Yang.

Xiang Yang took it and unfolded it. He saw four characters written on it: "Serve with Utmost Loyalty."

"This was actually written by your maternal grandfather to your father before he died. Although Da Niu couldn't read a single word, he truly embodied these four characters, protecting the people and dying in battle against the bandits. You are now a constable, following in your father's footsteps. Do not let down your grandfather's and father's expectations."

This was a form of encouragement. Xiang Yang solemnly accepted the calligraphy and bowed to Mr. Liu. "Rest assured, sir. Xiang Yang will not disgrace the reputation of his ancestors."

As for Uncle Li, he didn't come empty-handed. After returning from outside, he placed a Wild Goose Feather Saber, still in its sheath, before Xiang Yang.

"This was your father's saber. It got chipped more than ten times when he fought the bandits from Black Wind Stronghold. I've reforged it, and it's much sturdier than the one issued by the yamen. Take it. How can you perform your duties without a good saber?"

Uncle Li had dark skin and was not tall, but due to years of blacksmithing, his hands were thick and strong. Although he wasn't eloquent, he was a man of loyalty and righteousness. Forging a weapon required refined iron, which was not a small sum for a blacksmith who usually only repaired farm tools. Xiang Yang remembered this kindness.

After seeing off the few warm and honest elders, Xiang Yang closed the red gate and secured it with a wooden bar from the inside. Only then did he wipe away the non-existent sweat from his forehead. He looked up at the darkening sky and smiled silently.

He walked to a water vat placed on the right side of the courtyard, scooped up a ladle of water, and gulped it down. Using the last bit of twilight, Xiang Yang saw a strange, handsome face reflected in the water. He touched it; it felt cool and smooth. He tapped it; it hurt a little. He had truly transmigrated.

Xiang Yang from Earth was a twenty-something shut-in who had loved staying home reading novels since childhood. Later, he even turned it into a means of livelihood. While he didn't earn much, it was enough to sustain himself.

During a trip back to his hometown, Xiang Yang found a snow-white, blank square paper in his old house. By accident, the paper cut his fingertip, and his blood seeped into it. His soul then transferred, and in a daze, he arrived in this unfamiliar world, possessing the body of a boy who also happened to be named Xiang Yang.

As for whether it was a loss or not? Xiang Yang felt he had hit the jackpot. If nothing else, he had a body ten years younger, which meant he had ten more years of life. How could he not be happy?

Moreover, according to the original host Xiang Yang's memories, this world had martial artists who could leap high and walk on walls. This was a huge attraction for someone from Earth.

His mind wandered for a while. Seeing that the sky had completely darkened, Xiang Yang hurried back into the mourning hall. He found a prayer mat and knelt before the altar and the coffin behind it, beginning his vigil.

He had taken over someone else's son's body, so he had to fulfill the son's duties. However, before he could kneel for long, Xiang Yang felt a sudden heaviness in his mind. A snow-white, blank piece of paper appeared in his mind, filling his vision.