Chapter One: Tianshui Village

The ancient frontier was bleak and chilly, the autumn clouds hung low and vast. The wings of the yellow crane drooped with rain, while the hungry hawk pecked at the mud.

In Tianshui Village during the tenth month, frost had already arrived and the crops were ready for harvest. Tenant farmers sweated profusely in the fields, working with great vigor. Tianshui Village, nestled between mountains and water, was a place of picturesque beauty. Although it lay in the north and felt the chill earlier than the southern lands, the cold could not diminish its charm. The mountain forests remained lush, and the streams teemed with fish and shrimp. In every little fenced courtyard, vegetables grew in abundance, their leaves a vibrant green.

At the eastern entrance of the village, two small hills stood sentinel. From their summits, one could nearly take in the entire village at a glance. Groups of children played and tumbled on the hillsides, but among them, one boy stood out—a sturdy little fellow with a bright, clear gaze.

Like their parents, children of tenant farmers were wild and free, their bodies often caked with mud like little monkeys. Yet this boy was conspicuously clean, setting him apart from the rest. Standing atop the hill, this six or seven-year-old let out sigh after sigh, lamenting his turbulent fate and the twists of his life.

Such words from a child of six or seven would surely draw ridicule—what hardships could a child so young have possibly known? Yet this was no ordinary child. The soul within this body belonged to a modern, ambitious young man of science and engineering—a master's graduate, newly promoted to R&D manager at a company, earning tens of thousands, destined soon to become a CEO, marry a beautiful and wealthy woman, and reach the pinnacle of success. At the height of his ambition, he had found himself inexplicably inhabiting this child’s body.

His new name was Li Zisheng, though at home he was called Li Zhuangzhuang, a nickname given because of frequent childhood illnesses and the fact that he was his parents’ precious only child. A wandering Taoist had advised his parents to give him this name, for which they had thanked the man profusely and rewarded him handsomely. Yet fate had intervened, and the real Zhuangzhuang was replaced by Li Zisheng.

He had been in this unfamiliar place for some time. Through idle chats with villagers and local children, he learned that this was Tianshui Village, under the jurisdiction of Lingzhou, during the glorious Tang Dynasty—a golden era celebrated in literary history for its poetry and cultural flourishing.

Upon first hearing this, Li Zisheng was elated. The Tang Dynasty was also known as the Li Dynasty—the royal house shared his surname. He wondered if, perhaps, he was of royal blood. The thought filled him with excitement, but discreet inquiries soon put an end to those hopes.

Standing atop the hill, gazing at the night sky as faint stars began to appear, Li Zisheng reflected on his situation. Since he was here, he might as well make the best of it. Although composing poetry was a challenge for an engineer, his fondness for literary salons and national studies back in his old life had filled his mind with a treasury of verses and knowledge—enough to let him navigate this golden age of poetry with ease.

Since his arrival in this unfamiliar Tang Dynasty was now an unchangeable fact, he resolved not to waste his days in idle longing. Instead, he would pursue his ambitions in the Li Dynasty and leave his mark.

“Zhuangzhuang, Zhuangzhuang, it’s time to eat!”

The call came from his cousin, the eldest daughter of his uncle. Following behind her was his cousin, two years his senior and already at school age, a cloth satchel slung across his body—he looked as if he had just finished his lessons at the village school. They had come to fetch him home.

His cousin, now at the age of maturity, was beginning to show signs of beauty. In this feudal society, a girl of her age was already considered ready for marriage, and her mother busied herself daily with the matter, her worries written all over her face.

“Yes, big sister!” Li Zisheng shouted, his short legs carrying him as he dashed down the hill.

The three of them hurried along the field path toward home. As they walked, Li Zisheng glanced around. In the tenth month, night fell early, and lights were already glowing in every household.

It was the Kaiyuan era of the Tang—a time of prosperity and abundance. The state policy was to enrich the people, and every family had their savings. The houses were not crude huts, but substantial dwellings built of wood and earth, enclosed by fences. Only a few thatched huts could be seen along the way, used for storing surplus grain. Especially with the village backed by the Yellow River, the land was fertile, and most families owned their own permanent plots. After paying their taxes, they still had ample surplus grain.

The Li family was among the more prosperous in Tianshui Village. With grandparents still alive and a large household, Li Zisheng’s father was the youngest son, with three elder brothers and a sister. Among his generation, there were only three boys—his two cousins and himself—while the girls were more numerous. In this patriarchal society, sons were especially cherished.

Despite the family’s wealth and prosperity, the many mouths to feed meant expenses were high. After harvesting their own land, they would work as tenant farmers for the Yang family in the county to earn extra silver. Today was the day his father and uncles were returning home from their work, so the womenfolk were busy preparing a family banquet, inviting the village elder as was customary.

In the strict feudal tradition, such banquets were presided over by a respected village elder to symbolize the family’s good fortune and prosperity—a custom firmly established in village life. Today, with the household gathered, one of the family’s elders had slaughtered an old sheep to celebrate the harvest. Yet only a third was used for the feast; the rest would be dried, sealed with lotus leaves and yellow clay, and saved for the New Year.

“Zhuangzhuang, we’re going ahead,” his cousin said, and she and her brother hurried to the eastern wing of the compound, where their father and second uncle lived. Li Zisheng’s father and third uncle’s family lived in the western wing, while the grandparents resided in the main house.

“You little rascal, you finally remembered to come home! Go change your clothes—there’s a family banquet tonight; don’t embarrass us!” This was Li Zisheng’s mother, Madam Wang, dressed in a slightly faded blouse and skirt, her hair piled high with a wooden hairpin. She fixed him with a stern gaze, but her eyes smiled, and her whole manner radiated a lively energy, as if she’d been waiting for him to return.

“Mother, you look beautiful today—even your best hairpin makes an appearance!”

“You little imp, always teasing your mother! Today is a special day, hurry and change. And wash up, you little mud monkey.” Though she knew her son loved cleanliness, she still reminded him.

“Mother, what’s the special occasion? The house is so lively, I saw a sheep slaughtered, and the village elder is here. Does that mean we can have a real feast?” Li Zisheng asked, feigning ignorance.

Madam Wang burst out laughing, shaking her head affectionately before hurrying off to help in the kitchen, not forgetting to urge him once more to change his clothes before she left.