Wu Dynasty, Qing Province, Clear River City.
The rain had just passed, and sunlight churned through the clouds, etching their silhouettes across a cluster of low buildings.
A dilapidated adobe house, weather-beaten beyond counting, was lucky enough to catch a little light. It squeezed through the window and gently enveloped the frail figure on the bed.
[As the Child of Luck, you will have divine assistance in your cultivation and can surely become a Bright Force martial artist within a month. Otherwise...]
It was as if sixty thunderclaps had exploded in his mind at once, unleashing pain as intense as being cursed to die without descendants.
Hiss, since when had voices become so lethal?
Hong Ming felt as if the crown of his skull had been ripped open. He couldn't sense his brain at all.
Only two indistinct voices beside his ear slowly filled in the blanks in his memory.
"Doctor Zhang, things have been really tight at home lately. Could we settle the fee a couple of days late?"
"Old Hong, this house call is already a losing proposition. I have a family to feed, too!"
"Please, make an exception. I'll personally bring you the consultation fee in a couple of days."
"Ah, forget it, forget it. You can pay me for the medicine in a couple of days, but the five copper coins for the consultation must be paid now."
"..."
One voice was meek and apologetic, the other helpless. Both spoke with the hard-won weariness of people who had it rough.
The sounds outside the room were like an invisible hand, nudging Hong Ming's consciousness back on track.
He strained to lift his eyelids, which felt as heavy as millstones, and managed to pry them open just a crack.
His vision blurred for a moment before gradually coming into focus.
The first thing he saw was a row of overhead beams, turned gray and black by the years.
The wood grain had faded completely. Flakes had peeled from the surface, and in several places the beams were even cracked, as if they might fall at any moment.
Along with the scent of medicine, a faint, stale, moldy odor lingered in his nostrils, mixed with the barely perceptible tang of something briny.
"Where is this?" A flicker of confusion crossed Hong Ming's eyes.
The rotting beams, damp earthen walls, cramped, gloomy room...
Everything before him made it clear that this place was unfamiliar.
Just then, a bright, urgent voice rang out. "A Ming, you're awake? Father, Second Sister-in-law, Third Sister, come quick! A Ming's awake!"
The voice struck like thunder, dispelling his confusion and splitting open the chaos in Hong Ming's mind.
His blurry fragments of memory surged in like a tide, quickly piecing together the whole truth: he had awakened the wisdom of his past life!
After dying suddenly from frequently staying up late to work overtime in his previous life, he had become the eldest grandson of the Hong Family, poor for two generations in a row.
What was that voice in my mind?
Hong Ming was about to investigate when he heard hurried footsteps approaching. It was his grandfather, aunt by marriage, eldest aunt, and youngest aunt.
When his grandfather, Hong Zheng, saw that Hong Ming was awake, delight shone in his eyes. Leaning on his jujube-wood cane, he hurried over.
He placed a rough yet warm hand on Hong Ming's forehead and asked with concern, "A Ming, are you all right? How are you feeling? Does your head still hurt?"
Hong Ming followed the voice and saw an aged face covered in wrinkles.
The old man's cloudy eyes were fixed on him, worry spilling uncontrollably from their depths.
"Grandpa, I'm fine." Hong Ming's throat was a little dry, but the words came naturally.
At that, the creases on the old man's face eased a little. He murmured with relief, "That's good. That's good..."
His grandson had come around at last, and the tension in his nerves finally began to ease.
"A Ming, you'd better stop hauling cargo from now on. You might earn no money and ruin your health in the bargain. Then all the money at home will be spent patching you up."
His eldest aunt, Hong Cuihua, couldn't help speaking up, her tone edged with sarcasm.
In his memories, his eldest aunt had held a grudge against him ever since Grandpa had secretly used her dowry, draining the family's savings to fund his martial arts training.
"A Ming just woke up. Why are you making those cold remarks?" The old man glared at his eldest daughter, displeased.
His eldest aunt stiffened her neck but said nothing.
Seeing the atmosphere grow tense, his youngest aunt, Hong Xique, cut in and asked Hong Ming, "A Ming, what are we going to do about that cargo?"
As soon as she said this, everyone turned to Hong Ming in unison, watching him intently as they waited for his answer.
"Cargo?" Hong Ming was momentarily taken aback, then remembered.
Before awakening his past-life memories, he had been hauling cargo for his employer. Wanting to finish the job early and get paid, he had taken a shortcut, only to be knocked out and robbed.
Fortunately, just before he lost consciousness, he had recognized the figure who attacked him. "It was Liu Hu!"
Liu Hu was a local hoodlum loathed by everyone within ten li. He did no honest work and spent all day loafing around.
He ran with a pack of worthless friends, either bullying the good and oppressing the weak or getting up to mischief along those lines. His days were more comfortable than most people's.
When the old man saw that Hong Ming was taking so long to answer, he feared something had gone wrong. Deep worry crept into his voice. "A Ming, if the cargo's lost, what did your employer say? Do you have to... pay for it?"
He uttered those last two words with almost no strength left in his voice.
He wasn't the only one. Everyone else felt their hearts tighten, too.
His aunt by marriage clenched her hands, her expression turning grave. His youngest aunt's smile faded as apprehension surfaced. Even his eldest aunt, who had just been making sharp remarks, now looked distinctly uneasy.
Watching their anxious faces, Hong Ming knew all too well that the family had neither the spare money nor the means to cover the compensation.
His grandfather ran a grocery shop. It didn't make much money, just enough to scrape by.
His uncle was a mason, but work only came along every so often, and it was highly unreliable. Together with the money his aunt by marriage earned washing clothes with his youngest aunt, it barely kept the family afloat.
His eldest aunt had married a dock laborer who sold tofu. She brought in the most income, but there were too many mouths to feed, with elders above and children below. The family spent more than it earned; what grain could they possibly have left over?
These were the hardships everyone could see. In truth, the family also bore three towering burdens:
The government's taxes squeezed them at every turn, their employer took his cut and stripped them to the bone, and the local gangs kept coming every few days to knock their bones dry, like frogs slowly boiled in warm water.
The world was harsh. All mortal life was like a thorny net, ensnaring the poor and grinding them until they were bruised, battered, and bloody.
Poor common folk like them couldn't withstand the slightest blow. One mishap was enough to bring utter ruin.
If they took on this new debt as well, it would heap frost on a family already snowed under, leaving them no chance to recover.
With that in mind, Hong Ming spoke slowly, keeping his tone as calm as possible. "My employer said that, since I've always worked hard and got hurt while hauling the cargo this time, he wouldn't make me pay compensation."
He wouldn't make him pay... Hong Zheng and the others quietly breathed a sigh of relief, their tense hearts finally settling.
Hong Ming could only sigh inwardly as he watched them. How could he not make me pay?
His employer hadn't held him responsible for the lost cargo, but he had still demanded that Hong Ming pay its full value!
Ten taels of silver. There was no deadline for paying it back, but to Hong Ming and the Hong Family alike, that sum was astronomical!
The old man's face broke into a long-awaited smile, and his tone grew lighter. "That's good. A Ming, get some rest. There's no need to rush your martial arts training. Wait until your injuries have healed."
"Martial arts training?" Hong Ming fell silent, feeling somewhat resistant.
Something at his chest seemed to be giving off warmth. It was a sachet.
The sachet was far too exquisite for someone of his station.
It was a gift from the martial arts instructor, Huang Chun. He had said that if Hong Ming wore it when he went to see him, Hong Ming would receive all the resources he needed for his martial arts training from then on.
In exchange...
Huang Chun hadn't said it outright, but Hong Ming knew. The man was lusting after his body.
Before you continue