"Xiao Xin, find the A Chinese Ghost Story trilogy," Jiang Hao ordered.
"Okay."
Then he thought again. A Chinese Ghost Story came from Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio. Since he had traveled to that world, it probably would not contain only A Chinese Ghost Story.
"Find the original Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio, along with all kinds of films and television series based on it."
"Xiao Xin understands."
After spending several days reviewing the materials, Jiang Hao gained a deeper understanding of that world. Demons, monsters, ghosts, the underworld, female ghosts, fox spirits—it truly was a vibrant, bizarre, and unfathomable world.
Once he felt sufficiently prepared, he entered the Supercomputer Room, opened the system panel, and without further hesitation, pressed the button to accept the mission.
Whoosh!
His figure vanished from the Supercomputer Room.
In the next instant, Jiang Hao appeared in the mission world. Before he could even open his eyes, a flood of information entered his mind, letting him understand his current situation.
When he opened his eyes, Jiang Hao found himself in a room. The weather was freezing, and mournful wind howled outside the window, making the paper panes rattle endlessly. Yet he wore only a thin blue cotton scholar's robe.
In the corner stood a wooden bed with peeling paint, covered by a thin quilt.
Beside it was an old desk. Several thread-bound books lay atop it, and he could see the title of the uppermost one: Collected Annotations of the Four Books. There was also a crude inkstone, two worn brushes, and an oil lamp with only half a bowl of oil left.
It truly was a poor scholar's broken home, with nothing but four bare walls.
His name was Jiang Hao. He was twenty-one this year, and his courtesy name was Hanyang,