When Chen Ye opened his eyes again, excruciating pain greeted him all over his body.
"Hiss..."
Chen Ye sucked in a sharp breath, then struggled to look around.
Before him stood a statue of a deity with half its head missing. Cobwebs covered it, and the compassionate smile on its face looked especially eerie.
The shrine had long since collapsed, and broken walls surrounded him. A musty smell of dust and decay filled the air.
This was a ruined temple.
He lay on its floor, aching all over.
Just then, memories came flooding back...
This was an age of chaos at the end of a dynasty.
His predecessor had been a young master's study attendant in the Lin Family of the capital.
Three days ago, Lin Yan, the third young lady of the household, had claimed that she had lost a precious jeweled hairpin and insisted that his predecessor had stolen it.
No matter how his predecessor defended himself, no one believed him. Or rather, no one cared about the truth at all.
It was just one servant's life. In the eyes of the rich and powerful, it was worth less than a dog's.
And so, his predecessor had been beaten to death by the household guards, and his corpse had been thrown away like garbage in this ruined temple beside a mass grave outside the city.
Damn it, another heaven-collapsing start!
Chen Ye gave a bitter chuckle and struggled to prop himself up.
He checked himself and found that the fatal internal injuries had vanished, leaving only superficial wounds.
Fortunately, things aren't too bad yet.
Chen Ye sighed and searched himself, only to find that he had nothing but the tattered clothes on his back.
In his memories, his predecessor really hadn't stolen the hairpin.
As for why that pampered third young lady had targeted him, it seemed that a few days earlier, his predecessor had accidentally overheard a conversation during her secret meeting with someone in the garden. Although he had immediately gone into hiding, the third young lady might still have noticed him and found an excuse to have him beaten to death.
Better to kill the wrong person than let one get away.
What a ruthless heart that woman has!
Through his predecessor's memories, Chen Ye also discovered that the dynasty called Great Zhao was indeed in its final days.
At court, the powerful schemed against one another, corruption ran rampant, and the people could barely survive. Beyond the dynasty's borders, powerful neighbors surrounded it, and the flames of war could erupt at any moment.
But none of that concerned Chen Ye right now. What he cared about most was how he would fill his stomach.
After all, a man who couldn't even get a meal had no right to pity the world.
Just then, a notification suddenly appeared.
[Beginning profession assignment]
Chen Ye perked up and immediately waited with his full attention.
A moment later, a screen of light slowly appeared.
[Name: Chen Ye] [Profession: Petty Thief (lv1)] [Talent: Lingering Fragrance on the Hands (your hands become exceptionally nimble when performing certain specific activities, and are less likely to be noticed)] [Skills: None]
Chen Ye fell silent.
He sensed a trace of deep malice in the choice of profession.
Was this telling me to smash the cracked pot and go straight into the trade after being falsely accused?
Still, complaints aside, having something was better than having nothing.
Chen Ye staggered out of the temple and found a vast mass grave outside.
It was already afternoon. Not a soul was in the graveyard, and only the cries of crows echoed in the distance.
Chen Ye found a small creek and washed his face. Though desperately thirsty, he didn't dare drink the water.
After all, in his current weakened state, getting diarrhea from drinking untreated water could be fatal.
He had to get back to the city as soon as possible.
Out here in the wilderness, even setting aside jackals, wolves, tigers, and leopards, hunger alone was enough to kill him. Going to another city was even more of a pipe dream; in his current condition, he would collapse before he had walked ten li.
His only chance of survival was to return to the city.
Of course, he absolutely couldn't let anyone from the Lin household discover him.
The Lin household was enormous and had many servants, while he was only an inconspicuous little study attendant who had now been "beaten to death" and thrown out, so the chances of his being recognized were slim. Even so, it was best to be careful.
Having made up his mind, Chen Ye hesitated no longer. Dragging his exhausted body along, he trudged step by step toward the city in his memories.
He deliberately took a wide detour and entered through a different city gate.
As a result, it was completely dark by the time he entered the city.
Few pedestrians were on the streets, and most of the shops on either side had already closed. Only a few restaurants still had lanterns lit, with faint sounds of revelry coming from within.
Chen Ye was dizzy with hunger, his stomach burning as though on fire. Every step felt like walking on cotton.
He saw a few beggars on a street corner and thought of following their example to beg for something to eat. But just as he was about to make a move, the beggars all shot him vicious looks, like wild dogs guarding their food.
Clearly, the turf here was already claimed.
Left with no choice, Chen Ye withdrew to a dark corner and slowly sat down against the wall, intending to rest for a while before looking for another opportunity.
His spot happened to be near a restaurant. The smell of food kept wafting into his nose, stoking the fire of his hunger.
After an unknown amount of time, a swaying figure emerged from a brightly lit restaurant not far away.
It was a man who was dead drunk. Reeking of alcohol and cursing under his breath, he couldn't even walk in a straight line.
Chen Ye's heart gave a sudden leap.
Then a thought sprang up, impossible to suppress.
He forced down his nervousness, rose from the shadows, and walked toward the drunk, pretending to be a passerby.
He didn't even dare look at the man's face. He kept his head down, his target clear-the money pouch at the drunk's waist.
The instant he brushed past the drunk, he held his breath and reached for the pouch at the man's waist, his right hand quick as lightning.
His Lingering Fragrance on the Hands talent made his movements exceptionally swift, and he "took" the drunk's pouch in the blink of an eye.
Then Chen Ye forced himself to stay calm and left without looking back.
After ducking into an alley, Chen Ye leaned against the wall, panting heavily.
It wasn't just the nervousness of making his first move; his body was also far too weak.
Fortunately, the haul was substantial.
Chen Ye opened the pouch with anticipation, only to find nothing inside but a stack of copper coins. There wasn't even a trace of the gold or silver he had imagined.
Chen Ye wasn't disappointed, though.
Times were hard for everyone. The drunk might have been dressed well, but judging by the fact that he still had to walk home by himself after getting drunk, he probably didn't have much money either.
Chen Ye wasted no more time. He tucked away the pouch, slipped out the other end of the alley, and soon found a noodle stall still open on a street corner.
"Boss, a bowl of noodles!"
"Coming right up!"
Soon, a steaming bowl of noodle soup was served.
The tempting aroma filled his nose, and Chen Ye's eyes reddened slightly. He picked up his chopsticks and wolfed the noodles down without caring how hot they were.
The noodles were smooth, and the broth was rich.
As they slid down his throat into his stomach, warmth instantly spread through his limbs and bones, driving away the cold and weakness in his body.
This was the first hot meal he had eaten since coming to this world.
A sense of satisfaction and security unlike anything he had ever felt nearly brought tears to Chen Ye's eyes.
He soon finished the bowl of noodles, drinking every last drop of broth. Still wanting more, Chen Ye smacked his lips, feeling that he had finally come back to life.
He paid and was just about to get up and leave, to find somewhere he could settle down.
Just then, several figures blocked his path. The man at their head cupped his fists, smiling without a trace of warmth in his eyes.
"Friend, whose turf are you working?"