Chapter 1

"Xu Yi, get the hell out of here!"

"Second Young Master, you can't go in... Fourth Young Master has caught a chill. You might catch it too."

"Move! Damn bastard, daring to block my way? Tell that scoundrel to stop playing dead and face me!"

A sharp slap pierced the air, cutting through the stream of insults.

Xu Yi jolted awake.

He looked around dazedly at the cramped room. A square table, a round stool, a worn canvas cot—nothing else.

Where on earth am I?

As his thoughts churned, fragments of memory suddenly flooded his mind. A searing pain nearly knocked him unconscious, but it came and went swiftly.

Xu Yi wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, a strange expression settling on his face... He had crossed over.

He had been a special forces commander on Earth, killed in action when his heart was pierced in a firefight. Now, somehow, he found himself in the body of someone with the same name?

This was the Great Jing Dynasty—a dynasty absent from any history he knew.

But the original owner of this body had lived a wretched life.

His father, Xu Ziming, was the Minister of Rites, a Second Rank Jia Official. Yet within this household, Xu Yi lived worse than a servant.

Years ago, when Xu Ziming traveled to the capital for the imperial examinations, he had promised Xu Yi's mother he would return for her once he achieved success. She waited five years.

In truth, Xu Ziming had placed second in the exams five years prior. Favored by the Left Chancellor, he married the Chancellor's daughter and had already fathered three children.

The Great Jing Dynasty held filial piety as paramount. Xu Ziming's only reason for returning was to honor his ancestors. Xu Yi's mother, oblivious to his new life, believed he had come to take her to the capital.

But after just one night, the scoundrel left her a letter of divorce and vanished.

Soon after, Xu Yi's mother discovered she was pregnant.

When Xu Yi was seven, his mother died of a broken heart. Afterward, he survived by begging for scraps and relying on neighbors' charity.

At twelve, Xu Ziming sent men to find him and brought him to the Xu residence. Xu Yi later learned it wasn't out of guilt, but fear for his own career.

Xu Ziming heard his political enemies knew about his abandoned wife and child. So he found Xu Yi first, spinning a perfect tale to cover his tracks.

But the lady of the house, Chang Ruyue, and her three sons feared Xu Yi might one day claim a share of the family fortune. They never accepted him.

Xu Yi treaded carefully, daily trying to please everyone, yet suffering only crueler abuse. He endured it all—anything was better than returning to begging and sleeping on the streets.

What he failed to realize was that no matter how low he bowed, they would never see him as family. They wanted him dead.

Autumn had arrived, and Xu Yi, clad in thin clothes, caught a chill. They refused to call a doctor, even secretly pouring cold water into his bedding. The result? His condition worsened, and the original Xu Yi died, uncared for.

Xu Yi sighed, thinking of the original owner. Eight words summed it up: Pity for his suffering, fury for his resignation.

Just then, the door opened. An old man in coarse hemp clothing, limping, entered. Seeing Xu Yi sitting on the small cot, he froze for a second, then broke into a relieved grin. "Fourth Young Master! You're awake? Thank the heavens..."

This lame old man, called Lao Chai (Old Chai) by others but Uncle Chai by Xu Yi, had lived in the Xu residence long before Xu Yi arrived. He was the only person in the Xu household who had ever shown Xu Yi kindness.

Xu Yi usually ate leftovers and often went hungry. It was Uncle Chai who secretly shared portions of his own rations with him.

"Fourth Young Master, you're still ill. Lie down quickly." Uncle Chai hurried to pour a cup of water. "Here, drink this... You must be hungry. I'll go fetch..."

Before he could finish, the door was kicked open violently. A young man in splendid robes, radiating fury, stormed in. It was Xu Yi's second elder brother, Xu Xing.

Xu Xing pointed at Xu Yi the moment he saw him, roaring, "I knew you were faking, you bastard! Hand over my jade pendant! If you don't, I'll beat you to a pulp today!"

"Second Young Master, Fourth Young Master just woke up. Can we discuss this matter later, please?" Uncle Chai quickly stepped in front of Xu Xing.

Xu Yi had barely survived, just regained consciousness, and was far too weak to withstand Xu Xing's beating. Uncle Chai had seen Xu Xing hit Xu Yi before—mercilessly, as if determined to kill him.

"Get lost, you old cripple!"

Seventeen-year-old Xu Xing, burly and strong, kicked Uncle Chai to the ground. "Daring to shield this bastard? I'll teach you a lesson too!"

As Xu Xing raised his hand to strike again, Xu Yi's eyes turned cold—but his face stretched into an obsequious smile. "Second Brother, I’m sorry. I’ll return your pendant… Don’t be angry."

He fumbled around the head of the cot as he spoke.

Xu Xing strode over. "I knew you stole my pendant, you bastard! Stealing from me? Wait till Father gets back—you’ll regret it."

The day before, after crossing paths with Xu Yi, Xu Xing had claimed his pendant was missing, accusing Xu Yi outright and pestering him endlessly. Whether it was truly lost or not, only Xu Xing knew.

"Found it!" Xu Yi suddenly said, holding out his hand.

Xu Xing fixed his gaze on it—only to see Xu Yi open his palm, empty.

Chapter 2

A carriage pulled up at the Xu residence gate.

Servants hurried to fetch a footstool.

First to step down was a tall, sharp-featured young man in rich silk robes—Xu Gan, the eldest son of the Xu household.

Moments later, a man in his fifties emerged from the carriage: refined in appearance, with an air of quiet authority. This was Xu Ziming, the current Minister of Rites.

Xu Gan roughly shoved a servant aside, then fawned as he helped Xu Ziming alight.

"Gan’er," Xu Ziming said, "I’ve had a stewed old hen prepared. Eat your fill at dinner—you must be exhausted these past few days."

The past few days had marked the Great Jing’s triennial imperial examinations. Xu Gan had just taken them, and Xu Ziming had gone to fetch him personally—they’d only just returned.

"Thank you, Father," Xu Gan replied, guiding him inside.

Hardly had they crossed the threshold when they spotted Xu Mao, their third brother, flanked by several servants. All brandished cudgels, their faces twisted with menace.

Xu Ziming’s brow furrowed. "What’s all this about?"

At the sight of his father, the ferocity drained from Xu Mao’s face, replaced by a pout of feigned grievance.

"Father, you must stand up for Second Brother!" he cried.

Xu Ziming’s voice turned stern. "What happened to your second brother?"

"Father, that bastard Xu Yi... he stole Second Brother’s jade pendant," Xu Mao sniffled, squeezing out a tear or two. "When Second Brother went to get it back, Xu Yi not only played the rogue—he smashed a porcelain pillow over his head, splitting it open! If Second Brother hadn’t run fast, he might’ve been killed!"

Xu Ziming’s face darkened, a mix of concern and surprise. Xu Yi had always been timid, never even daring to speak loudly in his presence. How could he have struck so violently?

Xu Gan chimed in angrily, "Our Xu family feeds him, clothes him—how have we wronged him? Yet he’d lay such a vicious hand on his own brother. An ungrateful wolf, through and through."

Xu Ziming paused, then asked, "Where is Xu Yi?"

"The West Courtyard," Xu Mao blurted.

The West Courtyard was where the servants lived. No one in the Xu household saw anything amiss with Xu Yi dwelling there.

They arrived at the West Courtyard to find Xu Yi standing atop a pile of firewood, clutching a torch. The air reeked of pine resin.

"Xu Yi, what nonsense are you spouting?" Xu Mao shouted harshly.

Xu Gan, more calculating, spoke first: "Xu Yi, what are you doing? You see your father, why aren't you kneeling? Have you forgotten all propriety?"

Xu Ziming looked at Xu Yi with undisguised disdain.

Some men, once risen high, strive desperately to erase past shame. To Xu Ziming, Xu Yi was that shame. Arrogant and obsessed with face, he loathed anyone knowing his origins—especially that his first wife had been a country bumpkin. It made him seem base.

Xu Yi met Xu Ziming's gaze calmly, his tone flat. "Do I have a father? I don't recall one."

Xu Ziming's face flushed crimson. "Ungrateful son! Do you know what you're saying?"

Xu Gan joined the chorus: "Xu Yi, this is too much! Father feeds you, clothes you! Without Father, you'd still be begging in the streets!"

Xu Yi sneered, a flash of contempt in his eyes.

"Feeds me? Clothes me?" He plucked at his ragged shirt. "This? Minister Xu gave it to me when I first arrived. Must be two or three years old now?"

"And food? I am the Fourth Young Master of this house, yet forbidden from the dining table. I get your leftovers. If there are any."

Xu Ziming frowned. He genuinely hadn't known. Household finances were his wife's domain; he never bothered with such trivialities.