Chapter 1, Yong'an

Wang Yuan recognized the identity of the short-statured person; the memories he had merged revealed that this person was named Huang San, someone he was quite familiar with. The other individual was Zhao Fangzheng from the local area, with whom he had hardly interacted on a daily basis, and he was unsure of the reason for their visit.

After enduring the torment of the drumbeats at various times throughout the day, he finally had to accept reality. In the darkness of the following night, he found an explanation for it all in his mind: there was only one possible explanation for the current situation, he had encountered the legendary first prize known as "crossing over".

The figure slowly rose, sitting on the edge of the bed in a daze. After a moment, he gradually put on a tattered robe, and after getting out of bed, he stepped out of the room with unsteady footsteps, slowly opening the door to the main hall. Outside, the daylight had brightened significantly, and the morning light illuminated the young man's face, revealing a weary and haggard countenance. Looking at the small courtyard before him, strewn with desolate yellow leaves, the young man furrowed his thick brows and let out a long, helpless sigh.

Huang San bowed and said: "Thank you very much for your care, Fang Zheng. Erlang will never act recklessly again. If there are any matters, they will fall upon me, Huang San. You can rest assured a thousand times."

In the west wing, the young man silently washed his face and rinsed his mouth with the icy cold water from the water tank, spending a long time tidying up his wrinkled clothes. Hearing his stomach rumble loudly, he bent down and searched through a pile of jars and containers for a long time, finally finding half a jar of millet in an open jar by the stove. He then carelessly grabbed a handful and added it to a pot with cold water, placing it on the fire to cook. Although he had no appetite, it had been three days since he had eaten a single grain of rice, and if he did not eat something soon, his life would be in danger. Thus, he carelessly grabbed a handful and added it to a pot with cold water, placing it on the fire to cook. Although he had no appetite, it had been three days since he had eaten a single grain of rice, and if he did not eat something soon, his life would be in danger.

Zhao Fang was just sitting inside the room. Wang Yuan bowed and clasped his hands.

After enduring the long, seemingly endless bombardment of drumbeats, when everything finally quieted down, the person in bed found himself unable to sleep any longer. Outside the house, the sounds of neighbors getting up, talking, and opening doors and windows could be heard. He knew that a new day in Chang'an was beginning amidst this soul-stirring drum sound

The eastern dawn revealed a pale white hue akin to fish belly, and the drumbeats from the Shuntian Gate tower sounded as usual, thumping steadily. It was as if a massive stone had been cast into the water, with the ripples of the drumbeats' sound waves swiftly spreading outwards, prompting the street drums in the surrounding streets to follow suit in succession. Within a quarter of an hour, the resounding drumbeats filled the entirety of Chang'an, echoing throughout the city

Three days ago, the young man was awakened amidst the same resounding drumbeats that filled the city just now. In that moment of awakening, he could hardly believe his eyes and was unable to comprehend the strange memories that flooded his mind. After half a day of confusion and cautious glimpses into the outside world, the young man nearly went mad

Confusion and bewilderment, loss and disappointment intertwine. Although he is reluctant to believe that such absurdity could happen to him, the situation has come to this, and he must accept all this absurdity, accepting the identity of Wang Yuan, a stranger who will forever follow him and whom he cannot abandon

Huang San bowed and said, "Fang is just about to leave, thank you very much." Seeing Wang Yuan standing dazedly at the door, he hurriedly gestured to him. Wang Yuan understood his intention and cupped his hands to bid farewell as Zhao Fangzheng's figure disappeared outside the courtyard gate

Although this job is somewhat arduous, it is still easier than many other jobs. I believe it suits Erlang's current situation, as he at least does not have to carry heavy burdens. How could Erlang manage such physically demanding work? Erlang, do not worry; I have already spoken with Chen, the head of the workshop, and arranged for you to join me on the night shift. I will teach you what you do not understand; I will take care of everything.

Wang Yuan cried out in pain, but Huang San laughed heartily and said: "It’s just as well that it’s broken; a new task has been assigned. This is indeed a cause for celebration. Come on, let’s go to Aunt Wen’s shop on Cross Street for some fried dough soup and sesame cakes."

Huang Sanpei smiled and said, "Alright, alright." He then turned to Wang Yuan and said, "Er Lang, Zhao Fangzheng is kind-hearted and took time out of his busy schedule to visit you, which clearly shows his affection for the neighbors. Moreover, ... ... "

... ...

Zhao Fang waved his hand to interrupt, saying: "Huang San, you don't need to flatter me. If it weren't for your persistent pleas, who would care about his trivial matters? Wang Erlang, originally this good opportunity wouldn't have come to you, but Huang San has been begging me for half a month. I see that he is loyal to you and is a good young man who values friendship and loyalty, so I agreed to help him. You know your own situation; originally, no one in Yong'an Fang was willing to help you. Consider yourself fortunate to have such a sincere and devoted friend like Huang San to advocate for you."

"It is best as you say." Zhao Fang snorted, turned around, and walked away with his hands clasped behind his back, taking measured steps.

Wang Yuan, a resident of Yong'an Fang in Chang'an Wannian County, is eighteen years old and has lost both parents

Wang Yuan felt somewhat awkward, having been in a daze these past few days, unaware of his surroundings, and lacking the energy to care about his own image

Zhao Fang gently stroked his beard, frowned, and cast a sidelong glance at Wang Yuan, clearly expressing his disdain for Wang Yuan's disheveled appearance. He waved his hand and said, "Enough, let's just discuss the matter here and then leave. I have many other things to attend to."

"Huang San, you can explain the remaining matters to him yourself. I have something to attend to and will leave first; however, I must say this upfront: I do not have a good opinion of Wang Erlang. If it were not for your earnest pleas and my recognition of your sincere treatment of friends, I would never allow such good fortune to fall upon him. You must ensure that he performs his duties properly; if there are any mistakes, I will not seek trouble with him, but with you instead." Zhao Fangzheng said with a serious expression.

The young man sat by the fireplace, warming his cold hands, as the flickering flames illuminated his chiseled face and the slightly upturned corners of his tightly closed mouth. His face seemed to be filled with question marks, and his expression was one of confusion and disappointment

"Er Lang, how did you end up looking like this? Just look at you, your hair bun isn't even done properly. Oh dear, why is your face so pale? After just a few days of not seeing you, you've become so dispirited. Is it possible that you are unwell?" Huang San frowned and stepped forward, staring intently at Wang Yuan, his face filled with genuine concern.

The millet porridge on the stove emitted a bubbling sound, and fragrant steam wafted from the clay pot. Wang Yuan's stomach also growled happily; having not eaten for three days, he was already feeling the pangs of hunger. At this moment, the aroma of the porridge ignited his appetite, and Wang Yuan eagerly prepared to drink up the half pot of yellow millet porridge.

Huang San exclaimed in astonishment: "Are you confused? I told you half a month ago that there was a vacancy for the position of the workshop attendant. I had already informed Zhao Fangzheng and pleaded with him for more than half a month, and only then did he agree to let you fill the vacancy. From today onwards, you will be, like me, a workshop attendant of our Yong'an Workshop."

"Here I am, Sanlang," Wang Yuan replied as he opened the door to the main hall. Initially, he was somewhat concerned that his voice might reveal his identity as a time traveler, but as soon as he spoke, he was taken aback himself. It turned out that his voice and intonation had long since diverged from those of the future, seamlessly and perfectly integrating into the context of Chang'an during the Tang Dynasty.

Wang Yuan hurriedly got up and went to the main room. Through the slightly ajar door, he saw two people walking towards the main room in the courtyard. One of them was wearing a tattered sheepskin short coat, with a short stature and not very old; walking beside him was a middle-aged man in his forties or fifties, sporting a black beard. He was dressed in a satin overcoat, with a collar lined with snow-white wool, and he wore a leather hat on his head

Farewell, twenty-first century, farewell! Dear father and mother, farewell! Friends of future generations, farewell, to everything that once was

Wang Yuan understood about eighty to ninety percent of the situation. His good friend Huang San used his connections to help him secure a job as a workshop assistant. From the way he spoke, it seemed that he was like an unemployed drifter, with many memories being blank. No matter how hard he tried, he could not recall what he used to do. It appears that he can only gradually understand and recover his past.

... ...

Wang Yuan comforts himself with the spirit of Ah Q: at least he has not crossed over into a chaotic era, for people in chaotic times are worse off than dogs in peaceful times. If he were to traverse to a time of war, it would indeed be an extremely terrifying matter. The early years of the Tianbao era in the Tang Dynasty were the most glorious period in the history of the Celestial Empire. Although it cannot be compared to the extremely prosperous times of later generations, being transported to this era, he should at least be able to survive.

Wang Yuan had little concept of the term "fang ding" in his mind, but as the name suggests, a family has its own servants, who are responsible for guarding the home. The so-called "fang ding" probably refers to the role of the guards in this Yong'an neighborhood.

Wang Yuan found himself in a perplexing situation, as a dignified university lecturer who had crossed over, only to end up with the role of a security guard at a watchtower. To put it mildly, it could only be described as that of an auxiliary police officer.

"What is that smell?" Huang San wrinkled his nose

Oh, I see. Erlang, why aren't you showing respect to Zhao Fangzheng and inviting him to sit? Zhao Fangzheng is quite busy with his affairs, and I have gone to great lengths to invite him here. Quickly, let him into the room to sit down.

Despite the intertwining of fear and confusion, hesitation and loss in the heart, everything has already been set in motion. The invisible forces that dictate fate are beyond one's ability to resist, and one can only calmly embark on another chapter of life

It is nothing, I simply did not sleep well last night. I have just gotten up and have not had time to tidy up, I apologize for the rudeness

An identity that is simple and utterly ordinary, after carefully sifting through the scattered fragments of memories in his mind, Wang Yuan's mood improved slightly. This is the fourth year of the Tianbao era in the Tang Dynasty, during which Emperor Xuanzong, Li Longji, is in power, and the Tang Dynasty is experiencing a period of great prosperity and flourishing.

I have traveled through time! I have come from the future to the Tang Dynasty, thirteen hundred years ago

Wang Yuan questioned, "What task? What task is it?"

"Oh no, my porridge." The burnt smell reminded Wang Yuan that the millet porridge on the stove was still cooking, and he hadn't had a single bite yet

... ...

Wang Yuan rushed into the west chamber, reaching out to lower the earthen pot on the stove. A sudden, intense pain struck him, and with a cry of "ouch," he dropped the pot, clutching his earlobes with both hands. The pot shattered with a loud crash, and half a pot of thick, charred porridge splattered all over the ground

As Zhao Fangzheng left, Huang San immediately jumped up, pulling Wang Yuan's arm and laughing, "Er Lang, you are truly lucky. This is great; the matter has finally been settled, and you have a job to do now. Look at you, what a state you are in. With this job, you will earn at least two guan a month, and life will gradually improve from now on."

Is Erlang in the house? Erlang, Erlang!" The sound of footsteps came from the courtyard outside, and someone was calling out loudly.

The chaotic thoughts and consciousness led him to believe that he was still dreaming. After the drumbeats ceased, he hurried to bed, clutching the musty bedding, hoping to fall asleep again, wishing that when he awoke, everything would return to normal. However, regrettably, after being startled awake several times by the annoying drumbeats, he found that everything remained the same.

He was originally a university lecturer in the twenty-first century, yet the memories in his mind told him that his current name was Wang Yuan, and his identity was that of a young man in the city of Chang'an during the Tang Dynasty

In the east wing of a dilapidated courtyard located in the southern section of Yong'an Lane in the west of the city, a figure huddled in the darkness of the room, covering their head and face with bedding, trembling and cursing amidst the sound of drums

I know that this task is not quite suitable for Erlang, but it is certainly better than Erlang being destitute and without a livelihood. As a brother, I can only offer you this little help.

Wang Yuan, the monk of stature, was at a loss; he did not understand what Zhao Fang was saying, and there were no related memories in his mind. It seemed that the memories of this Wang Yuan who had taken over were somewhat lost. No wonder he always felt that something was amiss. When recalling fragments of memories, he often sensed many blanks. Perhaps this was a side effect of the time travel.

On the fourteenth day of the twelfth month in the fourth year of the Tianbao era of the Great Tang, this was a windless yet extremely cold morning in the capital city of Chang'an