Chapter 1: Encountering Time Travel Again

Su Jin stood in the small garden of a grand residence on East Street by the water in Luzhou Prefecture, contemplating life for the first time in earnest amidst the blooming gardenias, wood roses, and the vibrant spring crabapples.

The young master was knocked unconscious by a book that fell from the bookshelf. "Little Sui'er replied cheerfully.

Su Jin's physique is somewhat frail, yet he is well-versed in the Four Books and Five Classics, poetry, and the knowledge of rites and etiquette. However, this Su Jin seems to be rather dull and oblivious to worldly affairs. This can be observed from the attitudes of those around him; the members of the Su family appear to regard him as a child. Even the two maids, Xiao Mi'er and Xiao Sui'er, who seem younger than him, speak to him in a tone akin to that of an older sister addressing a younger brother

The steaming bird's nest porridge was served, something Wang Feng had never tried before. He did not expect to indulge here, and his stomach was indeed quite hungry. He immediately took a bowl and, under the concerned gazes of those around him, drank two bowls in quick succession. Mrs. Wang, feeling heartbroken, had tears welling up in her eyes.

Young master, you are awake; you nearly scared this little maid to death. The young girl, her expression filled with joy, struggled to support his head and helped him sit up

Young Master? Wang Feng felt somewhat confused; who is this woman? Dressed like a maid, could she be a caregiver from the hospital? When did it become fashionable for hospitals to address patients as Young Master?

Wang Feng suddenly sat up with his eyes wide open, startling the two young maids who were surrounding the bed

Wang Feng was deeply disappointed. After all, this is the Song Dynasty. Could it be that the lifestyle issues of the great official Ximen are fabricated by others? The books state that in the Song Dynasty, such matters were commonplace, often occurring in wealthy families. Fabrication, it is all nothing but fabrication! Those who write books are all frauds!

Wang Feng understood that what she said was reasonable, so he put down his chopsticks and stopped eating; the mother and son exchanged a few casual words, and Madam Wang went off to handle business, instructing Xiao Sui and Xiao Mi to take good care of things.

Wang Feng felt a strong sense of discomfort, but considering that she was the biological mother of this body, and that maternal affection was indeed genuine, he found that although he was uncomfortable, he did not feel any aversion

"Yes, yes, you must be hungry. Xiao Sui, quickly ask Aunt Wu to bring a bowl of bird's nest porridge. My poor son has been hungry for several days; just look at how sunken his eyes are." As she spoke, Madam Wang's hands once again began to explore Wang Feng's face.

Wang Feng maliciously speculated whether this good-for-nothing had any connections with the two young girls beside him. However, it appeared that the situation was not as he had hoped; this good-for-nothing had no ties with the girl next to him. Moreover, it seemed that even the young woman in the house and the cook in the kitchen had no hidden connections with this Su Jin.

Wang Feng leaned against the headboard of the bed, chatting casually with the two young girls standing by. These two girls came from impoverished families and were completely unaware of the prominent figures in the world today. After asking for quite some time, he only learned that the current capital is called Bianliang. With this alone, Wang Feng confirmed his judgment that the memories of the body he had possessed contained extremely limited information in this regard. Upon careful examination, he discovered that this young master named Su Jin was a bookworm who was oblivious to the affairs of the outside world, solely focused on reading the classics. Although he understood some aspects of music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, he was utterly ignorant of worldly matters and human emotions.

Wang Feng still wanted to drink more, but Madam Wang said: "My child, you have not eaten for three days and your body is weak. It is not advisable to eat too much at once. First, take care of your stomach and gradually increase your food intake, so as not to harm your stomach."

Wang Feng propped himself up, struggling to sit up in the direction of her force. He caught a faint scent of sandalwood at the tip of his nose and, with bleary eyes, searched for the source of the fragrance. Finally, he spotted a hollow copper jar standing on a red wooden stool in the corner, from which a light blue smoke was wafting out of the bird's beak at the top of the jar

Wang Feng opened his eyes again on the morning of the third day. During these three days, he had been suffering from a high fever that would not subside, and he had been rambling incoherently. However, his consciousness was extremely clear; he could hear many people crying by his bedside and was aware that someone was feeding him a bitter liquid, which he knew to be medicine

He had a question in his heart that remained unresolved, so he asked the young maid named Xiaoshuier, "How did I faint? I can't remember anything at all."

Wang Feng's face was contorted with rage as he gritted his teeth and said: "Since we are here, we might as well make the best of it. I happen to have some literary questions to discuss with these fellows. Losing something in the east can be compensated by gaining something in the west; I will just consider it as being assigned to a peripheral task, at least it aligns with my professional expertise"

"Young master, young master, what is wrong with you?" A delicate voice called out anxiously. Wang Feng felt a splitting headache and wanted to tell that voice to be quiet, but he still opened his eyes. It was no joke to irritate his girlfriend; he would face a punishment of several days without being able to enjoy the charming curves of her body.

Wang Feng thought the same way, so when he saw his long-awaited girlfriend, the campus beauty, throwing him a luxurious Chinese edition of "The Butterfly Effect" while acting coy, he chose to approach her with a mischievous smile, his hair styled in a middle part.

Young Master, you are awake... How wonderful! Xiao Mi, quickly go and report to the Madam..." exclaimed the delighted maid in green; another maid dressed in pink hurriedly rushed out to inform the old lady.

Wang Feng rolled his eyes and thought to himself: "Indeed, there are such people in the world"

Wang Feng was at a loss for words. Before he could sort out his thoughts, a loud explosion echoed in his mind, as if a detonator had gone off in his head, leaving his brain in a state of chaotic confusion. Suddenly, he felt he had grasped some information, but the intense pain quickly overwhelmed his consciousness. He fell backward and lost consciousness.

Before me slowly emerges a tender little face adorned with two tufts of hair, its large eyes brimming with tears of urgency, while its rosy little mouth opens and closes repeatedly, calling out to him: "Young Master, Young Master"

... ...

Madam Wang hurriedly rushed into the room, embracing Wang Feng's head while both crying and laughing

Human adaptability is remarkable; each individual possesses the ability to find contentment in their circumstances, and Wang Feng is no exception. Merely half a day after regaining consciousness, he readily accepted his new identity with a sense of peace.

Life is like that; rather than complaining, it is better to adapt to it or even enjoy it. From today onwards, Wang Feng no longer exists; only Su Jin appears.

What the hell is this? Am I really going to be separated from my lovely classmate, who is like a beautiful illustration, across time and space? Moreover, if she throws a book at me, will she end up in a women's prison scrubbing toilets? And what about my parents? Am I never going to see them again? Wang Feng was overwhelmed with anxiety and couldn't take it anymore

As he turned his gaze again, he saw the spider plant, the brocade stool, the calligraphy and paintings on the wall, and two large bookshelves filled to the brim leaning against the wall. Then he noticed an antique-style table behind him, on which rested a guqin that one would typically only see on television. Following that, he observed the window directly opposite the table; it was a pentagonal wooden lattice window covered with colorful fine gauze. Next to the window, on the wall, hung a long sword. On the table, there was a guqin that one would typically only see on television. Following that, he observed the window directly opposite the table; it was a pentagonal wooden lattice window covered with colorful fine gauze. Next to the window, on the wall, hung a long sword.

In fact, at dawn on the third day, Wang Feng woke up, but he was reluctant to open his eyes and accept this reality. The feeling of confusion in his mind had completely vanished, and at the same time, he realized that he had traversed through time and inherited all the memories of this physical body.

However, at the moment when the corner of the book wrapped in copper flew towards him with a beautiful arc, he realized how foolish his actions had been, but it was already too late to turn back. The point of impact of the copper corner struck his fragile temple precisely, and with a barely audible sound of a brittle bone breaking, he collapsed to the ground, killed by a book.

The first year of the Qingli era? Isn't this the era name of Emperor Ren of the Song Dynasty? Wang Feng's shallow historical knowledge indeed lacks a concrete impression of this period, but as a Chinese major, he suddenly thought of a few names: Fan Zhongyan... Yan Shu... Ouyang Xiu... Aren't these great literary figures of the Northern Song Dynasty all from this era and its literature?

If I were to ask you what the consequences would be of being hit on the head by a book, you would surely say: "What does it matter? It's just a book. It might hurt for a while, but a little rubbing and it will be fine. The worst outcome is just feeling a bit dazed; it definitely won't be life-threatening."

My child, you are the only one we have. If anything were to happen to you, how would I explain it to your father and the ancestors of the Su family

... ...

This guy seems to be a useless rich second generation! He is essentially a disabled person who cannot take care of himself.

Wang Feng felt both like crying and laughing. The misfortunes of unfortunate people are always similar. He had crossed over after being struck by a book, and the body he inhabited had also died from being hit by a book. Suddenly, Wang Feng found it amusing to think: if this reasoning holds, then this bookworm named Su Jin should also be transported into the body of someone from a certain dynasty who is currently being killed by a book. Wouldn't this be a muddled account?

Dressing requires assistance, meals need reminders, and even at midnight, they occasionally come to help him adjust his blanket. During the day, they follow him like two little tails, tirelessly reminding him to watch his step and be cautious of what lies ahead, leaving Su Jin both amused and exasperated.

Wang Feng was covered in her snot and tears, and after finally breaking free, he mustered the courage to say: "Isn't the child doing well? Mother, please don't cry."

Su Jin, sixteen years old, the only son of the Su family, one of the four wealthy households in Luzhou Prefecture. His father has passed away, and his mother, Wang, is in charge of the family business. Wang Feng closed his eyes and recited in his heart; he could not accept this reality. He, a well-off elite university student majoring in Chinese literature from a later era, had been transported to ancient times by a book. This dynasty is called the Song Dynasty, and the era is known as Qingli.