The Story Takes a Turn

Chen Cuo's gaze swept back and forth between Cui Ju and the steward, Chen Hai.

One oversaw the maids, the other the servants. Between them, they kept every affair in the residence running smoothly. Chen Cuo had once found it comfortable enough to think that a feudal lord's life really was carefree.

But their words brought fragments of memory to the surface.

He suddenly realized that, in the old madam's eyes, even her sons had ranks. Chen Fangqing, her second son, seemed to be nothing more than an accessory to the eldest—a tool!

"My lord! We must leave at once!"

When Chen Cuo said nothing, Chen Hai urged him again. Cui Ju joined in. "Yes, please don't delay. You should set off immediately."

It wasn't just the two of them. Every Lady's Maid and servant in the room stared at Chen Cuo, plainly pressing him to leave.

Chen Cuo shook his head. After a month of being well fed and cared for, going to meet a guest was hardly too much to ask. Yet something instinctive in this body resisted, and a chill crept into his heart.

Puzzled, Chen Cuo found more memories rushing in. Again and again, servants had cornered Chen Fangqing and pressured him into doing things. The scenes alarmed him and deepened his confusion.

Chen Fangqing was supposed to be master of the residence. How could his servants push him around? The memories soon gave him a rough answer: behind every incident lurked the same shadowy figure...

So the title was hollow. Chen Fangqing was still young, a boy with little will of his own. He'd only recently inherited his title and held no official post. Every matter in the residence, large or small, had to be referred to his mother. Over time, the servants continued to regard Chen Cuo's Mother as their true master. Even rewards, punishments, and promotions came from the prince's residence, so of course they obeyed Chen Cuo's Mother's every order! Hardly anyone cared what their young master thought. Whenever something came up, they rushed to carry out Chen Cuo's Mother's instructions and hounded him to comply!

With that thought, he stood.

Chen Hai immediately turned and gave the order.

"Prepare the carriage!"

Jiankang, the capital of the Southern Dynasty, had not been built on a north-south axis. Its layout followed the mountains and waterways, in keeping with the natural order of heaven. Even so, the Imperial Palace remained the city's heart.

Southern Chen's Imperial City stood in northern Jiankang City, surrounded by waterways: the famed Qinhuai to the south, Qingxi Creek to the east, Chaogou to the north, and Yundu to the west. Along the banks of Qingxi Creek and Chaogou stood the residences of princes, nobles, ministers, and high officials.

Chen Cuo's Linru County Marquis Residence was among them, on the east bank of Qingxi Creek near Dongli Gate, close to the edge of Jiankang. As his Ox Cart rolled through the streets, he studied his surroundings. Most houses were low, and the eastern city wall was hardly built of brick or stone; much of it was piled rammed earth. Everything looked steeped in history, and he felt a little more at ease.

This is the capital of the Southern Dynasty, and its walls aren't even made of brick or stone, much less dozens of meters high. This can't be a world of superhuman martial arts. Chen Cuo tried to calm himself and put what had just happened out of his mind, turning instead to Zhou Youzi's talk of gods and ghosts.

But before long, his thoughts drifted back.

Before, I treated Chen Fangqing as someone else. I thought I could take unfair treatment in stride, but that's easier said than done. With these memories added in, I need to think carefully about what comes next. Do I take his place and keep swallowing insults, or try to take charge... His thoughts churned as he sat in the cart.

Soon, the Ox Cart turned into an alley, and the Prince of Nankang's Residence came into view.

From the fragments of memory, Chen Cuo knew that the previous Prince of Nankang—Chen Fangqing's father, Chen Tanlang—had been a favorite of Emperor Gaozu Chen Baxian. Chen Cuo had his doubts, since Chen Tanlang had ultimately been sent north as a hostage. Still, on the surface, two successive emperors had treated the Prince of Nankang's line well enough—

The location of the Prince of Nankang's Residence alone made that clear.

It stood on the west bank of Qingxi Creek, almost against the Imperial City to the West. To the east, one could see Eastern Government City, where the chancellor resided.

The streets around the prince's residence were prosperous and immaculate, far grander than anything near Chen Cuo's marquis residence.

Yet he felt no sense of belonging. The place only weighed on him, stirring an ominous premonition.

Sure enough, the moment he entered, someone greeted him with—

"My lord, you're in trouble."

The speaker was a steward of the prince's residence. He looked somewhat like Chen Hai and was named Chen He. He was Chen Hai's elder brother, and both men had been born into the household's service.

"What do you mean?" Chen Cuo suppressed his stray thoughts and the instinctive aversion lingering in this body. "I hurried here without even stopping to eat, and the first thing you tell me is that I'm in trouble?"

"Please don't be angry, my lord," Chen He said. "We're only following orders. You must understand—"

"Stop talking in circles. Say it plainly." Chen Cuo waved a hand.

Chen He paused, though his expression did not change. "Master Zhou has arrived. Because you weren't here, the mistress had to apologize and say you were slightly unwell, which kept you from greeting him in time." He lowered his voice. "You know her temper. She's already angry, and she'll certainly punish you afterward. If you go to her now, the old madam won't be pleased to see you."

Chen Cuo frowned. "In that case, I'll return to my residence and accept my punishment later."

He flicked his sleeve and turned to leave.

"My lord, don't joke!" Chen He's expression changed at once. "If you go back now and word gets out, people will call you unfilial. Whatever your ambitions, no one will recommend you for office."

So it really was coercion dressed up as moral duty, exactly as his memories had shown.

Chen Cuo gave him a long look. "You say I can't go in, and now you say I can't leave. Why don't you tell me what I'm supposed to do?" Despite himself, irritation edged his voice.

Chen He answered without hesitation, as though well practiced. "Since the mistress said you were unwell, you should wait a little longer. Please go to the rear courtyard until the old madam summons you."

"Fine." Chen Cuo said no more and stepped inside, but his mind kept working.

Chen Fangqing must have endured no end of slights. He had a title, but everyone saw a boy with no authority or mind of his own, so they ignored him. If I don't establish some authority soon, I'll be putting up with this for a long time!

Before crossing over, he had read enough miscellaneous books to know that a noble title sounded impressive but carried no real power. Even at home, its holder remained bound by feudal Legalism. With moral duty to invoke and someone powerful behind them, servants dared to obey in word while defying in deed—even to make barbed remarks. He had thought the books exaggerated. Now he saw that, given backing, it could happen.

I've taken Chen Fangqing's body and been given another life. I mean to fulfill his filial duties for him, too. But if I have to stifle myself at every turn, I'll end up miserable sooner or later. First I need to stand on my own feet and earn respect; only then can I do some good here. People and states alike fear power more readily than they remember kindness. Better to make them take notice first and reason with them afterward. Then they might remember the good I do. Otherwise, I'll just be an easy mark, and everyone will come to take advantage.

As that thought formed, Chen Cuo faintly sensed a reaction from the instinctive remnant left in this body.

Startled, he silently said, Don't worry. I've taken your body and inherited your past. I'll stand up for you. Rest easy... The lingering presence faded considerably, and Chen Cuo breathed easier, though he was more uncertain than ever about the nature of this world.

Something's strange. Did I cross over into a ghost story instead of a historical one?

Deep in thought, Chen Cuo reached the garden in the rear courtyard. Numerous servants had loosely surrounded him. At the sight, he could not help sighing.

"Second Brother, why the sigh?"

A young voice came from nearby.

Chen Cuo looked toward it and saw a little girl of around ten in a skirt and jacket. She had delicate features and held a book.

A fragment of memory stirred. He recognized her as his Third Sister, Chen Jiao, a daughter Chen Tanlang had left behind before going north as a hostage.

In his memories, Chen Fangqing had gotten along well enough with this younger sister. He ought to greet her, but he did not dare talk too much for fear of giving himself away. Little did he know that his manner gave Chen Jiao the wrong idea.

"I know what's bothering you." Little Chen Jiao bounced over and handed him the book. "Read this first. It'll settle your mind."

"What is it?" Chen Cuo took it and saw four characters on the cover: Notes from the Green Studio.

"Notes from the Green Studio, by the brilliant Lu You! Don't tell me you've never heard of it? He lives in seclusion on Eastern Mountain, cultivating the Dao and building his reputation. He often writes down poems and reflections, and his servants collect them. Soon they'll be all over Jiankang!" Stars practically shone in Chen Jiao's bright, Black and White eyes. "I hear the Literary Talent Lu is handsome and elegant. He's not just a scholar of heaven and earth—he has Divine Ability, too."

Seeing his little sister look like a starstruck admirer, Chen Cuo shook his head. He flipped through the book. It was mostly poetry, with some discourse on metaphysics, but none of it caught his interest.

Chen Jiao looked unconvinced. "Second Brother, you're worried Mother will scold you, so you can't concentrate. If you read carefully, you'd see how talented the Literary Talent Lu is! His notes are all the rage in Jiankang City. Countless young lords from aristocratic clans imitate him, but barely any earn such universal praise!" She proudly puffed out her chest, though her slight frame lent the gesture little force.

Chen Cuo nodded along and asked casually, "From the sound of it, is this Lu You a Daoist?"

Delighted that he had asked, Chen Jiao answered at once. "A Celestial Master thought highly of him and took him as his final disciple. But I know what you really want to ask about—the Daoist in the main hall, right?" Her eyes darted. "Very well. I'll save you this once, but remember, you owe me a favor. Buy me rouge from Dong Shou Pavilion a few more times!"

That caught Chen Cuo's attention. She's already interested in makeup at her age? Aloud, he asked, "How will you help me?"

Chen Jiao giggled and took a Paper Crane from her sleeve. Holding it before her in both hands, she blew gently on it and called, "Fly!"

Chen Cuo was about to ask a question when his expression abruptly changed.

At her command, the Paper Crane trembled. Its paper wings fluttered, and it hopped twice in Chen Jiao's hands before floating into the air. It circled above their heads, chirping as it went, so lively it seemed real!

At last, the Paper Crane paused on Chen Jiao's fingertip, and she whispered a few words to it.

Chen Cuo watched the Paper Crane leave Chen Jiao's finger and soar like a bird. It flew over the courtyard wall and vanished.

So this really isn't a historical world?

Instead of alarm, he felt relief, as if a weight had fallen away.

Chen Cuo was certain Chen Jiao had neither thrown the Paper Crane nor tugged it with a string. She had simply held it in her palms, blown on it, and spoken one word. Then the Paper Crane had flown on its own, as though alive!

Ancient technology? Mohist mechanisms?

Or was it immortal magic?

He was about to ask her more.