In the early autumn morning, a faint light glowed on the eastern horizon, and a milky mist floated above the ancient city. Boats glided silently on the Qinhuai River, shrouded in thick fog, resembling ethereal palaces floating in the sky.

Amidst the dense mist of late autumn, Ning Yi jogged along the banks of the Qinhuai River, humming a tune to himself. His morning routine had become a regular practice—after all, he had plenty of time. As he ran, the ancient brick-and-wood buildings lining the road appeared intermittently, with various trees and drifting boats on the river. Occasionally, he spotted boatmen or weary courtesans lingering on the decks.

This time of day marked Jiangning’s most interesting rhythm of renewal. The chaos and revelry of the night had faded, while the fresh vigor of the morning had just begun. The city gates had already opened, allowing farmers and vendors to enter the city, heading to the markets. Though there weren’t many people on the streets, the atmosphere exuded a sense of greenery and life. Now and then, he also encountered people walking hurriedly along the roadside, some disheveled, having spent the night in a brothel, rushing off to take care of daytime business.

Although Jiangning was considered a prosperous city, it still couldn't compare to the modern metropolises Ning Yi had once known. To him, even the bustling scenes of ancient cities like Jiangning were ordinary. Nevertheless, he appreciated the genuine and simple atmosphere that pervaded this place. The people who lived here were easily content—if they had enough to eat, they were happy.

Ning Yi occasionally discussed these matters with Old Master Qin. Although Jiangning was considered a prosperous city, beggars roamed the streets in large numbers, and it was not uncommon for impoverished families to sell their children. However, for those fortunate enough to be sold into a decent household, where they could work as servants, they would at least be fed and clothed, which was considered a stroke of good luck, thanks to the accumulated merits of their ancestors.

The abundance of brothels along the Qinhuai River provided an additional path for beautiful but impoverished girls. If they were lucky and could learn poetry and music, some might even rise to become renowned courtesans who sold their talents rather than their bodies. If fortune smiled upon them, they could eventually marry into a wealthy household as a concubine. However, for the vast majority who were not so lucky, they were forced to sell their bodies for life. As they aged and lost their beauty, those with kinder brothel madams might be set free, allowing them to eke out a living in other ways. In such places, the unwritten rules of the trade provided some protection, ensuring that even aging prostitutes could find some work sweeping floors or running errands until the end of their days.

If not for cities like Jiangning or Yangzhou, where the industry was well-established, these women would have no guarantees of survival in their later years. Some establishments even raised young girls, referred to as “slim horses.” Although the famous slim horses of Yangzhou wouldn't become a recognized phenomenon until the Ming Dynasty, the practice had already begun to take shape. These girls, raised for their future potential, were better off than common brothel girls. They were given the opportunity to learn music, chess, painting, poetry, and song, providing them with a chance to rise to the status of famous courtesans.

Every flood season brought in refugees, though the numbers varied depending on the year. In good years, there were fewer, but in bad years, such as when the Yellow River flooded or other natural disasters struck, the city would be tense for a time. The city gates would be guarded by the military, barring refugees from entering. The governor would call on wealthy merchants to meet, not so much to discuss but to solicit donations for relief efforts—setting up soup kitchens and distributing food. During the winter months, it wasn’t unusual for people to freeze to death on the streets, particularly in bad years. When snow fell, it was common to find frozen beggars huddled together the next morning. It was a sight people had become accustomed to.

Seeing these things often, one grows used to them, though Old Master Qin would occasionally remark, “This isn't a good year.” There had been good years, of course—back in the early days of the Wu Dynasty, there had been peace and prosperity under the reigns of Emperor Wu Heng and Emperor Wu Hui, men of great talent. But Ning Yi always found such stories tiresome. Every dynasty had its moments of peace and prosperity.

At this time, the Wu Dynasty was very similar to the late Northern Song Dynasty. Outside the relatively prosperous regions of Jiangnan, several groups of peasant rebels were rising, and bandits and warlords were not uncommon. To the north, the Liao Empire, ruled by the Yelü clan, had repeatedly invaded the borders. Every time they invaded, the government would negotiate peace, only to face further invasions soon after. A treaty had been signed a few years ago, establishing a brotherly relationship between the two nations—though naturally, it was a case of the elder Liao brother and the younger Wu brother. Even with the treaty, small-scale border skirmishes had never ceased.

Ning Yi wasn't particularly worried about these matters. The infamous Jingkang Incident hadn’t happened yet, and even if it did, the specifics were bound to differ.(Jingkang Incident: The Jingkang Incident refers to the catastrophic event in 1127 during the Northern Song Dynasty when the capital, Kaifeng, was sacked by the Jurchen-led Jin Dynasty. The emperor, along with many members of the royal family and high-ranking officials, was captured and taken north as prisoners. This marked the end of the Northern Song Dynasty and led to the establishment of the Southern Song. The event is often seen as a moment of great national humiliation in Chinese history.) The capital hadn’t been moved to Jiangning, and the country’s strength was still intact. If war broke out, the dynasty would likely be able to hold on for some time. Even if the emperor eventually fled south, like in the Southern Song, they had still managed to survive for quite a while. When the Jurchen invaders of the future Jin dynasty arrived, Ning Yi figured he would have long since lived out his life.

The famous line, "In the mists of the four hundred eighty temples of the Southern Dynasties,(The "Southern Dynasties" refers to the period of Chinese history when the south of China was ruled by successive dynasties from 420 to 589 AD. The temples and towers described evoke the remnants of a once-glorious past, now veiled in the mist of time.)" often came to mind when Ning Yi thought of the future, although it wasn't technically about the Southern Song. He dismissed the thought—what did it matter? Life in the Southern Song had been decent, and that was all that concerned him.

He had no grand ambitions to save China or to build some long-lasting legacy in this ancient world. Those dreams were long gone. He had grown tired, as if the fiery passion of his youth had burned out, and the injustices and darkness he had witnessed over the years had hardened him. Modern society had been dark too, after all. Although the world’s suffering no longer moved him as it once had, it wasn't that he had no empathy—it simply wasn't enough to spur him into action. As for thoughts of becoming an emperor or achieving some great feat that would be remembered for centuries, such ideas seemed childish to him now. What could a man with only sixty years of life realistically accomplish in a hundred years?

Still, from time to time, Ning Yi couldn’t help but entertain small, fleeting ideas about how he might make his life more comfortable. For example, as he stood sweating from his morning run, resting near a quiet bend in the Qinhuai River, he casually tossed stones into the water and let his thoughts wander.

One idle thought was about starting a business. Being a son-in-law made things complicated, but there were plenty of business opportunities in this era. There was no monosodium glutamate (MSG) in the food, and although Ning Yi had a rough idea of how to make it, the process was more complex than he had originally thought. However, if he spent a year working on it, he might be able to mass-produce it. With MSG and some new dishes, he could even open a high-end restaurant, and that would surely turn a profit.

There was also no music in this era—at least, not the kind that Ning Yi was used to. For anyone who had lived in a world where music could be downloaded and listened to endlessly, the silence was stifling. The performances in brothels were often mediocre, and even the songs sung by famous courtesans weren't particularly impressive. But for people who had never heard better, even a decent tune would sound heavenly. He mused that opening some sort of entertainment venue could be a lucrative venture—music, dance, and all sorts of performances. Modern song lyrics wouldn’t work, but the melodies and styles could be adapted, and traditional instruments could be used to create something new. He could even teach some famous poetry to be sung.