A thousand years later, a lost soul wandered aimlessly about, his beautiful face serene and at peace. A few people stopped to look at him, vaguely concerned for his welfare, although he was gone as quickly as he had arrived.
—
Xuan Cheng could only feel a dull ache throbbing against his temples. He tried to rub the kinks against his sore neck and shoulders, although his hands felt heavy, as if he wasn’t fully in control of them.
From somewhere close to him, a voice seemed to be saying, “Xuan Cheng, Xuan Cheng!” Listening carefully, however, he realized that the person wasn’t calling out his name, but rather something similar.
Xuan Cheng wrinkled his nose. A sudden desire to see his parents swept through him, followed by a fond afterthought of Pig Head, Little Yellow, and Radish. Though he was clearly sober, however, he found that he wasn’t able to fully open his eyelids.
His body was running. From behind there was something chasing him, and yet suddenly his feet were leaden and tired, as if he had exhausted all of his energy. But his feet were still moving, he realized, although it didn’t seem like he was getting anywhere.
Suddenly, in front of him, a large precipice appeared. He tried to forcibly take control of his body and stop himself from plunging forward, when suddenly the drop became replaced by a torrential river current, the water roaring loudly as if it could sweep away anything. He felt a new fear grip over him as he eyed the water, reminded of that large river that had haunted his nightly dreams.
Before he was able to jump in, the river suddenly shifted into thousands of troops, and the familiar ear-splitting sounds of hand-to-hand combat and death filled the air. This time, however, all the bows and lances being thrown were suddenly directed towards him, and the very air itself was filled with a sea of weapons. As they hit him, life itself seemed to end, and he gasped for breath.
“Pig Head!” he screamed.
The eyelids that had been tightly closed for the whole time suddenly sprung open.
Crouching over him was a handsome face with sharp brows and clear eyes that glistened with a warm smile. “Younger brother.”
“Ha,” Xuan Cheng stared blankly.
“Younger brother?” he said, bewildered, as if he had encountered a strange creature. “You called me younger brother?” He took time now to properly look over the person in front of him: long hair, a belt, a crown, and black robes.
He suddenly erupted in a despairing laugh. “You’re really wearing it. I’ve wrought some kind of evil over myself.”
“Who are you?” he asked directly, feeling his head clear up a little bit.
The man in front of him had a attendant. The attendant bowed at the waist, walking in front of him and deferentially saluting him. “Yangping Duke, you’ve awoken.”
“Ah,” Xuan Cheng’s mind turned into a scrambled mess. He grabbed at his hair, asking another question, “What year is it right now?”
The attendant said, “Replying to the Yangping Duke, it is the fourth year of establishment.”
“Emperor Wu’s fourth year of establishment?” he replied.
“No, King Fu’s fourth year of establishment.” After finishing, the attendant bowed deeply again, retreating to the side.
Ah, heavens, he ended up in Former Qin!
Xuan Cheng wanted to die. This really was a case of you reap what you sow! He had idolized the Former Qin period and sympathized with the Duke of Yangping, but this was of course only something he had said in words. How exactly had he ended up transmigrating through time?
I want to go back, he thought, feeling his heart pang. He missed his parents; they had lived separately for many years now, and their relationship had soured through absence. It had been a long time since he had last seen them.
He wanted to cry. However, he knew that as a man, he simply couldn’t cry.
He thought back to Pig Head and the others, and the happy memories they had shared through the years.
He once again repeated, “Pig Head.”
The man he had first seen when he woke up wrinkled his brows. “Ah, are you calling me a pig head?”
“Little Yellow?”
“What?” That person’s face relaxed again.
“Radish.”
“Younger brother,” the other man said, unable to bear it anymore. He bent over, supporting Xuan Cheng’s head. “Younger brother, what happened? Why are you saying those kind of things?”
Xuan Cheng twisted his head, looking around. He was sitting on a bed, in what looked like a military tent used during wartime. It was very s.p.a.cious, with a large map displayed on one of the corners. He recognized it as an early map of the Sixteen Kingdoms, with Former Yan, Former Qin, Former Liang, Former Zhao, Later Zhao as well as a few other small kingdoms. Towards the southern area of the map was the territory of the Jin Dynasty.
He stayed quiet. After a while, he heard that person speak again, “Nan’an, go have someone bring the Yangping Duke a bowl of pig head and radish broth.”
The attendant made an affirmative noise, about to exit the tent.
“Wait!” Xuan Cheng hoa.r.s.ely yelled. “Pig head and radish broth, what is that? What are you trying to make me eat?”
That person gave a gentle smile. “Wasn’t it younger brother who said that he wanted to drink pig head and radish broth? As for little yellow, I don’t know what that is. Younger brother, you won’t blame me for that, will you?”
Xuan Cheng didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Those were people’s names.”
“People’s names?” The man froze, an embarra.s.sed flush covering his face. After a while he closed his mouth, smiling again. “Since when were there such weird names?”
Xuan Cheng wanted to tell him to shut his d.a.m.n mouth. However, the man spoke first. “How about this. Nan’an, why don’t you go out first and let Jinglue wait for me for a while. When I’m done with this I’ll join you.”
“Yes.” The attendant left the tent.