Morning broke after a quiet night. In the kitchen, smoke curled from the stove, white porridge bubbled in the pot, and a jar of medicine simmered.
Out in the courtyard, Chu Mu gripped his long saber, practicing each move deliberately. When his body warmed up, he stopped, stretched a bit, and headed inside.
Breakfast was simple: a bowl of porridge, a side of pickled vegetables, and a few steamed buns he'd made himself.
Oh, and a big bowl of bitter medicinal broth, of course.
After eating, Chu Mu grabbed his cloth bag stuffed with brush, ink, paper, and inkstone… and headed out… to school.
If he had it right, the body he'd inherited was seventeen. Starting school at seventeen—late bloomer or just embarrassing?
Chu Mu wasn't sure, but it definitely felt awkward.
The private school had plenty of students his age, but they were seasoned scholars prepping for the imperial exams.
The beginners? A gaggle of six- or seven-year-olds, maybe a few just past ten.
Even if this body was scrawny, a seventeen-year-old parked among kids, reading the same books, learning the same words…
It looked wrong. Felt worse.
The day dragged on forever.
By dusk, surrounded by the chatter of children, Chu Mu trudged out of the private school.
He paused, glanced back at the plaque above the gate. He could read the two characters now.
The teacher's name was Chang, and this was his home, so the plaque read "Chang Residence."
"Big mistake," he muttered.
A day studying with kids was hard to stomach.
He'd already sunk twenty silver into this. Back out now, and that money was gone for good.
Good thing today was just a trial run. Once he started his Patrol Division job, he'd study after shifts, dodging the humiliation of sitting with children.
Otherwise, he'd seriously look for another way to learn.
"Take it slow," he sighed. Learning to read from scratch wasn't easy.
He checked his mental screen. The "Spirit Radiance Value" had jumped nearly twenty percent from a day of focused study. At this rate, he'd hit a hundred percent in a few days.
"Gotta plan this out."
Clutching his bag of school supplies, Chu Mu mused. Spirit Radiance was too precious to waste on basic studies.
Lost in thought, he walked toward his courtyard home, the sunset's glow lighting his way.
"Move it! Hurry up!"
"No slacking! Any slower, you're not eating!"
He'd barely left the alley when shouts hit his ears. Looking up, he saw a group at the street's end: patrol officers on horseback leading the way, others escorting, herding dozens of ragtag commoners. The yells came from the escorts.
The sight instantly triggered memories. Chu Mu's face tightened, and he stepped aside, watching the procession pass.
He knew this scene—or rather, the original owner did.
Forced labor was a cornerstone of ancient dynasties.
This was clearly another round of conscription in Qinghe County.
In Nanshan Town, it was routine. The state-owned mines used conscripted laborers, swapped out every six months. Nothing new.
The original owner's father had died on one such job.
Word was, the prefecture drafted a thousand laborers from Qinghe County to fix a river. His father was part of the escort team.
It was supposed to be a standard gig. Who'd have guessed he'd never come back?
Not just him—the thousand laborers and all the escorting officers vanished.
The prefecture's report? A sudden flood, tens of thousands dead. Qinghe's laborers, working downstream, all perished.
That was the official story. The truth? No one knew. Like, why would escorting officers end up at the work site?
Qinghe's patrol was only supposed to deliver the laborers to the prefecture. After that, per custom, it was out of their hands. When the job was done, the prefecture would notify the county, and they'd send officers to bring the laborers back.
Something wasn't right.
Chu Mu eyed the departing procession, shaking his head. Over a thousand lives—strong young men, each a family's backbone in this era.
Gone, just like that. For Qinghe County, that was no small thing.
Dead officers got hefty compensation from the county office, plus Chu Mu's inherited post as a gesture.
But those thousand laborers?
Proper compensation for all of them? From the original owner's memories of the county office, fat chance.
And now, at such a tense time, more conscription?
Chu Mu shook his head, shoving the thoughts down. For now, as an outsider in this world, this wasn't his fight. No need to stir up trouble.
"Things might get messy, though…"
He scanned the bustling streets, lips tight, and walked home alone.
"Mu, my man!"
A few steps in, a voice stopped him. He turned to see a young guy in patrol armor, face full of youth, jogging over.
As usual, the face brought up old memories.
"Xu Yuan?" Chu Mu said, not quite sure.
"What's all this, Mu?"
Unlike Chu Mu's hesitation, the teen was all ease, trotting up and eyeing the book bag with a grin.
"Just some brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. Nothing special."
Chu Mu smiled, the memories clicking into place.
Xu Yuan was another hard-luck case, just like the original owner.
Mother gone early, father a patrol officer, dead in that same corvée escort mission.
His father and the original owner's were tight, their families close. They'd even transferred to Nanshan Town together, so Chu Mu and Xu Yuan were naturally good buddies.
*(End of Chapter)*