Chapter 1

In the vicinity of Xinfu, the capital of the State of Jin, stood a sturdy little city surrounded by rammed earth walls. This city was known as the Palace of the Zhao Clan, a private domain of one of the six major noble families of Jin, the Zhao Clan.

However, it had a more widely known name: Xiagong! Over seventy years ago, the "Xiagong Tragedy" saw heads roll and blood fill the fields. The entire Zhao Clan was exterminated, with only one orphan surviving. Subsequently, the Zhao Orphan rose from the brink of despair, and this devastated city gradually regained some of its vitality. The surviving serfs marveled that this was due to the blessings of their ancestors.

However, in a spacious stable within the domain, a young man from the Zhao Clan sneered at this so-called "blessing." He muttered to himself, in a voice no one could hear:

"The Peking Opera and movies are full of fabricated nonsense. I only realized, after coming to this era, that there was never a person named Tu Anji in the world!"

"Curiosity killed the cat. I shouldn't have asked questions that shattered my worldview. Who would have thought that the chaste and loyal woman, Lady Zhao Zhuangji, who is my great-grandmother in this body, was actually a widow who wore mourning clothes to seduce her uncle. After being caught, she slandered to the king, leading to the extermination of the entire clan. Truly, a beautiful woman can bring disaster!"

The young man shook his head and sighed. He had not yet reached the age of capping, and his conical hair bun was wrapped in a blue headband. His left lapel tightly overlapped the right, tied at the right armpit, forming the right lapel style favored by the Chinese. However, his lower body was casually clad in a pair of trousers, a foreign import from the Di region, resembling the pants of later generations. This combination was rather awkward, and if the strict family teachers and tutors in the Palace of the Zhao Clan saw him, they would surely criticize him.

In the stable, filled with the scent of livestock, he stood out: though his appearance was ordinary, his sword-like eyebrows made his eyes particularly spirited. His eye sockets were slightly sunken, and his nose was slightly high, suggesting some Di blood. His hands and feet were clean, and his complexion was rosy, with neat teeth, clearly indicating a life of ease and plenty. Yet, it was unclear why he had come to this lowly and dirty stable.

Moreover, he did no work, just idly sitting on a wooden horse trough, chewing on a blade of grass. The Zhao Clan's minor official in charge of the stable only dared to turn a blind eye.

A newly arrived stable official wanted to use a whip to teach him a lesson but was pulled aside by his seniors and slapped. "Thief! Do you know who he is?"

"Who?"

"He is Lord Wuxi, the young noble!"

The newly transferred stable official, holding his face, suddenly understood. It was him!

This incident caused a stir in the Palace of the Zhao Clan: this young noble, for some reason, sat cross-legged during a banquet and, when greeting his father, Lord Yang, did not bow and touch his head to the ground but instead used the empty-handed salute of equals!

This was intolerable, and he was severely reprimanded by the clan head and his mother, then sent to the stable to reflect on his actions. It had been ten days since then.

Although he was the least favored of the four sons and one daughter of the clan head, a noble was still a noble. After the capping ceremony, he could at least become a minister and lead a hundred-household domain. He was not someone these lowly serfs could offend!

To be honest, the protagonist, Zhao Wuxi, was truly innocent. As a person from two thousand years later, how could he understand the ancient rites of the Spring and Autumn period?

His surname was Zhao. According to his grandfather, their family was from the Tian Shui Zhao Clan, which had once been wealthy and could trace its lineage back to the royal family of the State of Zhao during the Warring States period and the Zhao Clan of the State of Jin during the Spring and Autumn period.

His grandfather often flipped through the family's line-bound books, pointing to the top of the long genealogy and showing him:

"This is Lord Jian, Zhao Yang, and this is Lord Xiang, Zhao Wuxi, our ancestors who founded the State of Zhao." The stories of these two ancestors were ingrained in his mind through his grandfather's annual nagging.

But he never imagined that after a car accident, he would trace his ancestors' bloodline and suddenly travel back to the Spring and Autumn period.

At first, the world seemed dim and hazy, and he saw a young man in ancient attire bowing to him.

"I am a descendant of the Zhao Clan, named Wuxi."

"I have spent my life in military campaigns, enduring the siege of Jinyang, leading Zhao, Wei, and Han to destroy Zhi Bo, and dividing the State of Jin. However, the State of Zhao was severely weakened under my rule and was suppressed by Wei and Han for a hundred years."

"I also have one regret in my life..."

The dream ended abruptly, and his mind was filled with fragmented memories, from a child learning to walk to a young man. After a brief moment of panic upon waking, he understood.

His former name was no longer important. From now on, he was Zhao Wuxi! His family was the Zhao Clan!

However, who would have thought that the much-touted story of the Zhao Orphan was such a dark history... Knowing the truth, he dared not ask about it again.

Who would care about the chaotic private life of his great-grandmother?

With such a stain, how could the Zhao Clan have the face to continue? If it were him, after founding the State of Zhao, he would force the historians to erase this sordid affair and rewrite it as a tragic epic that would make the masses weep and gnash their teeth at the fictional villain Tu Anji.

However, the time traveler did not have the luxury of grand plans. He was unlucky, or perhaps the inherited memories were fragmented, or this Zhao Wuxi had not received proper noble training. In the first few days after his arrival, he repeatedly made mistakes in speech and etiquette, which led to his reprimand by the young lord, the son of the main wife, and his subsequent banishment to the stable to reflect on his actions.

Fortunately, from the few remaining memories, Zhao Wuxi learned ancient Chinese. The phonetics of pre-Qin China, with many uvular trills, sounded strange to modern ears, like Tibetan. However, perhaps due to the body's familiarity, he did not encounter significant language barriers and, after some practice, found it relatively smooth.

In just ten days, his mouth was so fluent that he could sit there and tell stories to the stable boys and herdsmen.

The Zhao Clan's ancestors were famous for raising horses and driving chariots during the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties. Although their descendants became pampered ministers, they did not entirely forget their ancestors' trade. The stable was home to many fine horses from Yan and Dai, as well as horse experts from the State of Qin.

The stable boys and herdsmen, who mostly had disheveled and withered hair and wore short brown clothes, gathered around Zhao Wuxi in the rare leisure time before their morning meal, their eyes wide with anticipation.

Seeing that the crowd had gathered, Zhao Wuxi cleared his throat and said to the stable boys and herdsmen, "Today, I will tell you the story of the stone monkey from the East Sea who follows Tang Sanzang... no, assists the Zhou Emperor Mu in his western journey!"

This opening line made the stable boys and herdsmen shift uneasily, both nervous and excited.

Wuxi, holding the horsewhip, began, "In the East Sea of the State of Qi, there is a land called Ao Lai, and in the mountains, there is a famous mountain called Huaguo Mountain..."

"Little Lord, where is the State of Qi?" a tall, thin stable boy asked bluntly.

Zhao Wuxi tapped his head with the whip, "You ask the most questions. The State of Qi is to the east of our State of Jin, in the direction of the rising sun. Walk a thousand miles, and you will reach it."

The stable boys and herdsmen gasped. To them, their entire life's range was within a hundred miles, or even ten miles.

A thousand miles? Unimaginable, unimaginable.

This young noble, who knew stories from a thousand miles away, was almost seen as a messenger of the god Taiyi, omniscient and all-knowing.

Zhao Wuxi's purpose was merely to pass the time. Entertainment in pre-Qin times was scarce, and as an unpopular family member, he could not indulge in the pleasures of the rich and powerful. Before entertaining his sister with stories, he decided to practice on these stable boys and herdsmen.

Perhaps he could have someone record the legendary story of the Zhao Orphan to confuse the public.

In the 5th century BC, China still maintained a relatively primitive mythological system.

People knew of the Eastern Emperor Taiyi, the Western Queen Mother, and the deities Nuwa and Fuxi, but there was no Buddhism in the Spring and Autumn period, and certainly no monks. The Buddha, Shakyamuni, was probably still a child, crawling around in a palace in Nepal filled with bodhi trees.

Thus, Zhao Wuxi playfully replaced the role of Tang Sanzang with the Zhou Emperor Mu, who had traveled west to Kunlun Mountain to meet the Western Queen Mother. He decided that the role of Zhao Zao Fu, the ancestor of the Zhao Clan, would be played by a loyal and hardworking character like Sha Wujing.

Unconsciously, the story reached the end of the first chapter, "The stone monkey closed his eyes, crouched, and with a leap, jumped into the waterfall..."

At this point, he stopped, stood up from the horse trough, and stretched his waist. The stable boys and herdsmen, still squatting on the ground, eyes wide open, waited for the next part.

In their short lives, they had never heard such an interesting story. The obscure poems chanted by the elders during the archery ceremony and the hymns read by the priests during the clan sacrifices were incomprehensible to them.

Seeing Zhao Wuxi stop, the stable boys and herdsmen felt an itch, as if their hearts were being tickled by dog grass. However, someone was even more anxious.

"What happens next? What's in the waterfall? Did the stone monkey become the monkey king?"

A silver bell-like voice came from behind Zhao Wuxi.

Turning around, he saw a beautiful girl, engrossed in his story.

Her hair was like a cloud, her eyes clear and bright, her lips like cherries, and she wore a deep robe adorned with red flowers. Her feet, which would make future foot fetishists drool, were clad in wooden clogs, and only the thin, white foot coverings were visible beneath her skirt.

It was his sister, Ji Ying.

The clan head, Zhao Yang, had four sons and one daughter. The youngest, Wuxi, was the least favored, known as a "low-born son." The most beloved was the fourth daughter, Ji Ying.

Interestingly, among her brothers, Ji Ying was closest to Wuxi. In Zhao Wuxi's memory, this was perhaps because both had lost their mothers in a major epidemic and saw each other as kindred spirits, sharing the same loneliness.

Although he had seen Ji Ying several times since his rebirth, Zhao Wuxi could not help but admire her from the bottom of his heart. She was only a few months older than him, just thirteen years old, and already so beautiful that she would surely grow up to be a stunning beauty.

At the same time, he felt a tinge of regret.

"Alas, she is my sister."