A Farmer's Child

"Did you hear? Old Mol's boy got hit by a horse."

"Poor kid. If I remember right, he's only thirteen this year. He'll probably be bedridden for the rest of his life."

"You're talking about how things were a few days ago. The new news is that the kid Roy has already woken up, but a pity his brain seems to have some trouble. He stands in the yard dazing all day."

A few farmers whispered among themselves on the ridge of a field. Right behind them, a tall, middle-aged man quietly put down his hoe, clenched his fists tight, his face full of anger and helplessness.

He was the Old Mol the farmers mentioned, and similarly a mud-legged fellow with a lowly status. He had spent half a lifetime honestly farming; his appearance was ordinary, without ability or family property, and it was only at twenty-three that a woman who didn't despise him was willing to marry him.

The couple didn't obtain a son late in life until they were twenty-five. In this world and this era, there were plenty of people who became parents at fifteen or sixteen; without a doubt, they could be called older parents. Naturally, they cherished this child to the extreme, and usually didn't even bear to let him go down to the fields to work.

Their child Roy was also obedient, born looking gentle and quiet, without making a fuss, and always carrying a shy smile, completely different from those little bastards in the village who ran wild all day long.

What a well-behaved child...

Thinking of this, Old Mol felt even more painful. Good times didn't last long: just four days ago, a woman rode a horse galloping past through the village, and happened to graze poor Roy. He passed out right then and there.

The village's botched Herbal Doctor couldn't check out any external injuries. What was even more astonishing was that the child unexpectedly woke up naturally after being unconscious for a day, and then, as if he had turned into a different person, his gaze was dull, he didn't speak, nor did he answer, only knowing how to stare blankly at the sky.

Like a fool!

"Sigh..." Old Mol felt worried for his son in his heart, and seeing that the time was not early, he carried his hoe and trotted back home.

The houses in the village were all built with thatch and wood, crude and shabby, as if a gust of wind could blow the houses away. The scale of the entire village was very small, with probably only about a hundred households.

Old Mol's house was right at the westernmost side of the village. At this moment, it was dead noon, the time when the sunlight was fiercest, yet a tiny figure faced the dazzling sun in the sky without even blinking his eyes, like a puppet without a soul.

In the yard next to him, a farmer's wife with rough skin was bent over feeding chickens.

"Staring at the sun like that, what will you do if you hurt your eyes? Susie! Wasn't you told to watch the child? Look at what he's doing!"

Old Mol rushed anxiously into his family's weed-grown little courtyard, wrapped his arms around the child's waist, and placed him in front of the threshold. He touched his small, black, cropped hair, a trace of tenderness revealing on his dry, yellow face.

"Little Roy, listen to Dad's words. Don't do this kind of foolish thing in the future."

"Huh? Dad..." A moment ago, the waking Roy had ignored Old Mol's words; however today, ripples stirred on his delicate face, his hazy gaze became clear, and his mouth opened and closed as he muttered,

"Roy Yi... Roy... Right, the present me is called Roy."

"The child spoke?" The farmer excitedly brought his ear close to his son's lips.

He finally made sure that this son who hadn't spoken for three days and three nights hadn't turned mute.

"Susie, come quickly! The son has spoken. Don't be busy feeding those livestock!"

After this exclamation, the farmer's wife hurriedly ran in from outside the door.

The couple embraced Roy from left and right. Hearing him call out both of their names, their eyes instantly welled up with hot tears.

Roy earnestly looked over the parents of this lifetime—Old Mol and Susie. Their faces were ordinary, they wore old clothes woven from linen cloth, their skin was rough, their figures carried a gauntness from overwork, and their whole body revealed a rustic, earthy vibe of country farmers.

These are my parents.

Roy's eyes stung, his heart was suddenly touched, and at the same time, he wrapped his arms around the couple's shoulders.

At this moment, in his mind, two completely distinct memories thoroughly merged. He was both Roy Yi, an eighteen-year-old dropped-out high school student from Huaguo on Earth, and a farmer's son in Kaye, a small village in Xiabosada on the southern border of the country named Aedirn in this different world.

As Roy Yi, his parents had died in an accident, from which point he dropped out of school and stayed home, abandoning himself to despair and indulging in virtual game worlds, preparing to go accompany his mom and dad once he finished spending the compensation money.

He could be considered as having both parents dead, no car, no money, addicted to games, and kicking the bucket sooner or later.

Roy, although he was a farmer's son with a lowly status and lived a poor life, was enjoying familial affection he had lost for a long time.

He was both Roy Yi and Roy.

I played games so frantically just to make up for the emptiness in my heart.

This is the chance heaven gave me to make amends. The current him inherited all of Roy's memories and emotions, naturally having a blood-connected closeness toward the couple.

"Roy, what on earth happened to you the other days? You worried us to death!"

"I... I was frightened to death by a horse. I just remember feeling very scared all along, and I don't know about other things..."

"What blindly asking!" Old Mol yelled at his wife, lovingly stroking Roy's head. "It's good that the child is fine, it's good that he's fine..."

Pacifying the emotionally agitated parents, Roy began to look around his new home, inevitably revealing a bitter smile.

Surrounded by pit-patted walls, besides a fireplace, an iron pot, and two or three tables and chairs, the whole house had two "beds"—if those things on the ground spread with a layer of hay and cloth could be called beds.

Before long, the housewife had prepared lunch: a few dry and hard bread rolls that looked like malformed taros, one egg, two salted fish, and a thick soup stewed with various vegetables such as potatoes. The important thing was that there was no seasoning; in this family, wanting to eat a bit of salt could be considered a luxury.

Roy suppressed the strangeness in his heart and carefully took a bite. What's there to fuss about? In the past life, wanting to eat this kind of natural, pollution-free vegetables wasn't easy either.

Perhaps it was the instincts of this body influencing him, but he quickly and smoothly accepted the taste of the food. Coupled with not having eaten much these past few days, he was starving to death and wolfed it down regardless of anything else.

The already scanty food was rapidly diminishing.

"Eat slower, child. Don't choke."

The couple on the side looked foolishly at their son, continuously adding food to his bowl, while they themselves didn't move that small pot of grain much.

They only occasionally took a bite of dried salted fish.

In the afternoon, waiting for Old Mol and Susie to discuss slaughtering a chicken in the evening to nourish their son and leaving the house, Roy's expression turned serious.

Aedirn—how could he, who used to be addicted to The Witcher 3, not know it?

"One of the Northern Realms. This is a world of witchers, sorcerers, and monsters."

In this world and this era, bandits, monsters, diseases, and natural disasters raged. How difficult people's lives were.

"Without strength and power, you can't say for sure when disaster will descend."

According to the memories of the body's original owner in his mind, it was now the year 1260.

If nothing unexpected happened, three years later, the ambitious southern Nilfgaardian Empire's Emperor Emhyr var Emreis, who was called the "White Flame Dancing on the Graves of His Foes," would launch the First Northern War. Although the war started far to the west of Xiabosada in the Kingdom of Cintra, who could guarantee that no deserters would wander over here to wreak havoc?

Moreover, seven years later in 1267, the Second Northern War broke out, and Aedirn didn't escape unscathed either.

What abilities do I have, and what should I do? At the very least, I must protect Old Mol and Susie. The thirteen-year-old Roy didn't have much time left to utilize.

Yet when he transmigrated to this world, he didn't transmigrate in vain either; like many time-travelers, he brought along a Golden Finger.