Wooden Kite

Hearing an answer that was surprising yet not entirely unexpected, Ding Songyan felt both bewildered and absurd, and a cold sweat suddenly broke out across his back.

Should I be grateful I don't need to change my name, or suspect that this coincidence hides some immense horror? Or is having the same name and dying at the same time the key to successful transmigration? Could the original Ding Songyan have crossed into my world? Wait, can we swap back? Thoughts crowded Ding Songyan's mind as he rapidly reviewed the openings of the transmigration novels he had read.

He had already concluded that this body had originally been dead, and that he had, in a sense, borrowed a corpse to return to life. That would explain why he could find not a single fragment of memory, recognize none of the people around him, and understand nothing that had happened.

Ding Songyan looked up again at the rafters and roof covered in cobwebs and dust, then examined the walls riddled with holes and the damaged divine statues. He tried to find a hidden camera, to drag out whoever had orchestrated this and make them tell him it was all "The Truman Show."

That was the answer he wanted most.

It was also his last hope.

Yet he found nothing.

"Second Brother, shall we... go home first?" After confirming that her brother really had forgotten everything, Ding Qingyan was deeply downcast.

"All right," Ding Songyan replied in a low voice.

They went out through the collapsed gateway, one behind the other. Ding Qingyan stopped in the clearing before the temple, raised her head, cupped her hands around her mouth, and called out:

"Found him! Found him!"

Who's she talking to? Ding Songyan looked up at the sky with her. A few sparse clouds, like gray dogs, were stained with the sunset's rosy glow, making the gray-blue sky seem extraordinarily empty.

The thought had barely flashed through his mind when a broad shadow spread from behind them, swiftly blotting out the sun's lingering evening light.

Immediately afterward, a strange giant bird descended from the sky and landed before Ding Songyan and Ding Qingyan, stirring the dust into a fog.

Ding Songyan's eyes widened:

A w-wooden bird?

Was that thing flying just now?

Could there be a drone fitted inside?

Or something like those "flying swords" I've seen in videos?

What had astonished Ding Songyan so much was a bird made of wood. It was enormous, comparable to a large helicopter from his former world. There was an open cockpit on its back, where he could see a wheel, levers, and other mechanisms, some gleaming with a metallic sheen, others showing the color of wood. The giant bird's head had a sharply pointed beak, which, together with its two painted red eyes, gave it a strange, imposing majesty.

Once its wooden wings stopped flapping and the dust settled, a figure climbed out of the cockpit and jumped down from the giant bird.

When the strange flying contraption had begun descending, Ding Qingyan had already covered her eyes with one hand and pinched her nose with the other, so practiced that she seemed to have rehearsed it a thousand times.

Now she glanced sideways at Ding Songyan and introduced it in a nasal voice:

"This is a Wooden Kite Flyer belonging to the Qigu People. (Note 1)

"Qu Sanlang from Baoping Lane heard you were missing and volunteered to help look for you."

The Qigu People... I feel like I've heard of them somewhere... Ding Songyan studied Qu Sanlang as he hopped toward them.

The figure in a short blue outfit was indeed different from an ordinary person. He had three eyes on his face, the extra one situated horizontally between his brows and currently closed. His lower body had only one leg, set in the middle, so he had to hop to move forward.

Two leather belts were wrapped around Qu Sanlang's waist, hung with a saber, a small hammer, and an assortment of tools, some crude, others finely crafted.

Apart from that, his appearance differed little from an ordinary person's. His features were reasonably handsome, and his skin had a bronze cast.

After glancing at Ding Songyan, Qu Sanlang turned to Ding Qingyan with an ingratiating smile:

"Little Sister Qingyan, you found your second brother?

"Shall I take you both home in my Wooden Kite Flyer?"

I don't want to ride that. It doesn't look very safe... Ding Songyan refused inwardly while searching for an excuse.

Ding Qingyan shook her head and looked toward the sun, which had sunk a little farther:

"Brother Zhongheng, we appreciate your kindness, but home isn't far from here. Second Brother and I can walk back."

Before Qu Sanlang could try to persuade her again, she added gently:

"Sorry for the trouble, but could you tell my father, mother, and eldest brother that Second Brother has gone home, so they don't need to keep searching outside? We can't manage that ourselves. We'll have to rely on your Wooden Kite Flyer."

"Yes, yes, of course! I'll go right away!" Seeing that Ding Qingyan was willing to let him help, Qu Zhongheng immediately beamed. He hopped back onto the Wooden Kite Flyer, climbed into its shallow, hollowed-out cockpit, secured himself, pulled the lift lever, and turned the wheel.

At the sight, Ding Songyan and Ding Qingyan both retreated a few steps, planted their feet again, and pinched their noses with one hand while covering their eyes with the other.

"Little Sister Qingyan, I'll be as quick as I can!" Waving, Qu Zhongheng gradually rose amid the tremendous gusts churned up by the wooden wings and soared away into the distance.

Once the dust settled again, Ding Songyan turned toward Ding Qingyan and asked tentatively:

"You don't dare ride it either?"

Ding Qingyan looked embarrassed and wrinkled her nose:

"You really don't remember. Oh, it's because people all over town were saying that although Qu Sanlang's family's Wooden Man Drivers and Wooden Carriage Horses have all their mechanisms in place, they aren't reliable at all. His mother fell into the river and died because of them."

No wonder. You really do have to be careful with mechanical contraptions like these... Ding Songyan felt he more or less understood what Ding Qingyan meant.

If even the Wooden Carriage Horses and Wooden Man Drivers that traveled on the ground carried such high risks, the safety of a Wooden Kite Flyer in the sky was even harder to guarantee!

Just then, Ding Qingyan added:

"I went to ask Qu Sanlang whether it was true. He got very angry and said those drivers were afraid of losing their livelihoods and had deliberately spread rumors. Carters, boatmen, innkeepers, porters, brokers-every last one deserved to die!

"He also said his mother's death had nothing to do with the Wooden Carriage Horses or Wooden Man Drivers. She fell into the water while riding a Wooden Kite Flyer to Wangtianmen Island in the middle of the river.

"Second Brother, tell me, would I dare ride it?"

Ding Songyan wiped away nonexistent cold sweat:

"Qu Sanlang certainly is brave."

"He spent a fortune on a Wonder Parasol. It lets him descend slowly through the air. As long as he doesn't drown or fall from too high up, he won't fall to his death." Ding Qingyan seemed quite interested in that parasol. "Besides, his family's Wooden Kite Flyer has been improved a lot. Before, it could only fly like a bird with the wind behind it. Now, as long as it doesn't encounter turbulent winds or fly too far, it's fine."

As she spoke, Ding Qingyan put on the veiled hat she had been holding in her left hand and let the white gauze fall to conceal her face:

"Let's go, Second Brother. It'll be dark soon."

Ding Songyan nodded lightly and followed Ding Qingyan along the broad, rammed-earth road, walking beneath dense tree shade toward the nearby city. Fine horses galloped past them from time to time, most carrying riders with sabers at their waists or swords on their backs.

Between that Wooden Kite Flyer and what I'm seeing now, I can tentatively rule out "The Truman Show"... This world isn't quite like an ordinary ancient setting, either... Keeping to his resolve to speak less and watch more, Ding Songyan silently examined everything around him, including his newly acquired younger sister, Ding Qingyan.

The girl was not short, standing somewhere between 160 and 170 centimeters. Ding Songyan's eyes were not a ruler, so he could not judge her exact height. There was a slight skip to her step, and her bearing was more that of a child than a young woman. She was probably still much doted on at home and clearly had not been made to shoulder too many of life's burdens at an early age.

Once they passed the densely wooded stretch, the view before Ding Songyan suddenly opened up.

In the distance lay a vast, surging river whose opposite bank was beyond sight. Beside it, in the old channel of a tributary, stood waterwheels of all shapes, constructed from wood and iron. Numerous buildings clustered around them, and streams of smoke spread from within and rose into the heavens.

Faintly, Ding Songyan heard the repeated clang of metal striking metal coming from that direction.

The continuous stretch of buildings ended at a tall gray-white stone wall, as though gathering around the tower of wood and stone inside the city, which might have stood dozens of meters high.

The sun slowly sank toward the river. Amid the rolling waves of summer heat, men and women in short, coarse garments with narrow sleeves rolled up, revealing bronze muscles streaked with sweat, emerged one after another from the buildings that appeared to be workshops and streamed toward the city gate without end.

Two groups guarded the gate. One wore battle jackets predominantly red, mixed with blue, yellow, white, and black, carried sabers at their waists, and held long spears. The other, men and women alike, wore fitted black outfits with specks of starlight embroidered on the left cuffs and little candle flames depicted on the right. Their main weapons were longswords.

They stood on either side of the gate and did not harass those entering, merely maintaining order with practiced ease and occasionally questioning people who looked suspicious.

Ding Songyan and Ding Qingyan passed smoothly through the city gate and crossed the gate enclosure.

The clamor suddenly became distinct, and the colors before his eyes grew richer in an instant.

At a glance, Ding Songyan saw passersby in straight-hemmed long robes, short jackets over skirts, and clothes that covered them as thoroughly as his sister Ding Qingyan's. Others wore their jackets open at the chest, revealing part of a breast wrap or bellyband as though it were simply part of the outfit. Some wore skirts tied at the chest, displaying expanses of pale skin. The men were just as varied: some wore loose robes with broad sleeves, others blue-collared scholar's gowns, dark straight-cut robes, or round-collared long robes...

Although Ding Songyan knew little about traditional Han clothing, he had at least watched some films and television dramas with reasonably good costumes and styling. It felt as though the people here had brought together fashions from every dynasty, as jumbled as the tourists from all over the country he had seen taking photographs in different styles of Han clothing when he visited old towns.

Moreover, apart from Ding Qingyan beside him, hardly any women wore veils. They openly showed their faces.

Ding Songyan could not help glancing sideways at Ding Qingyan:

Is she so beautiful that she's afraid some lecher will take a fancy to her and cause trouble?

True, in an ancient environment like this, without enough technology to maintain effective control, beauty that could topple cities and kingdoms would be dangerous unless you had a powerful family behind you.

It's only because my little sister is still young and hasn't fully grown into her looks. Otherwise, just like in novels and television dramas, suitors might wear down the threshold of our house.

Suddenly, three drumbeats sounded in succession from the tall tower of wood and stone standing near the center of the city:

Boom! Boom! Boom!

What happened? Ding Songyan snapped his gaze in that direction.

In less than a breath, a streak of fire shot from the top of the tower.

Like a long serpent, the fire surged fiercely forward and plunged into a spot within the city in an instant. Only flecks of radiance remained to illuminate the air, an imposing display.

Immediately afterward, Ding Songyan noticed a squad dressed in red clothes patterned with black, who had been patrolling the street and appeared to be constables, swiftly change direction. Fast as galloping horses and slippery as swimming fish, they threaded through the crowd toward the place where the fire had landed.

The crowd paused for a few breaths, took stock of the situation, then returned to normal.

Seeing Ding Songyan standing there stunned, Ding Qingyan puffed out her cheeks, her expression dimming:

"That was Uncle Yi's Nine Sun-Shooting Arrows."

Ding Songyan made no attempt to conceal his confusion and bewilderment. He simply stared at his veiled younger sister.

"Ah..." Ding Qingyan sighed. "Uncle Yi is the county commandant of our Lingjiang County in Dingjiang Prefecture. His martial arts are said to have been passed down from Dayi, who shot down nine suns, so everyone in his clan uses Yi as their surname. He's on duty at the Watchtower today."

"The Watchtower..." Ding Songyan repeated the word his sister had used.

Ding Qingyan raised an arm and pointed toward the tall tower of wood and stone:

"There, that's the Watchtower. Every city has them, more than one. There are some on the city walls too, but they aren't this tall.

"Every day, the county office, prefectural office, and Xiaoming Sect send experts whose techniques excel at seeing great distances to take turns manning the Watchtowers. They watch for people breaking the law with martial force inside the city, and for enemies who might attack from outside."

A human-powered-no, a martial-arts-powered surveillance system... That arrow just now looked incredibly powerful, clearly beyond the limits of a normal human... And this is only a county commandant... Ding Songyan marveled inwardly as he listened.

Note 1: In the Classic of Mountains and Seas, they are called the Qigong People, with one arm and three eyes. However, the scholar Yuan Ke argued that "Qigong" should actually be "Qigu," because having only one leg made traveling difficult, which was why they thought to create flying carriages. It was also precisely because they had both hands that they were skilled at craftsmanship. Meanwhile, the "Topography" chapter of the Huainanzi also mentions a Qigu Kingdom. I cannot judge who was right or wrong, but I prefer the latter explanation, which makes more sense to me. Thus, this book uses the Qigu People, not the Qigong People.

Note 2: Some details of ancient life and certain scenes in this book were drawn from the following books. After all, the author is not an ancient person and cannot imagine everything out of thin air. Reference works include, but are not limited to: The Eastern Capital: A Dream of Splendor, Old Tales of Wulin, Recipes from the Garden of Contentment, Collected Talks of the Rivers and Lakes, Fifty-Four Everyday Details of Ancient Life, A History of Chinese Architecture, Treatise on Superfluous Things, Dreams of Splendor in the Great Song, Everyday Life and Social Customs of the Ancients, Women's Lives in the Ming Dynasty, How Much Was Money Worth in the Past?, Chinese Clothing and Headwear, A Chronicle of Han Fashion Trends, Six Records of a Floating Life, A Panorama of Anecdotal Fiction from the Han, Wei, and Six Dynasties, Dreams of Splendor in the Great Ming, The Refined Lives of Ming People, The Emperor's Dinner Table, Three Words and Two Slaps, Customs of the Ming Dynasty, Where Did the Ming Dynasty's Money Go?, Dream of the Red Chamber, The Plum in the Golden Vase, Water Margin, and so on and so forth.

PS: There will be two more chapters at seven tonight. Thanks to Mr. O, Still Chasing the Sun, and the other friends who have sent tips over the past year and more.

PS2: Is the first volume's title not showing up? I'll mention it here for now. The volume title is "Young Then, in a Thin Spring Robe," and its opening epigraph is "If Life Could Be as When We First Met."