Chapter 1

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In the western frontier of the Song Dynasty, in the Yizhou Road, lies the familiar Sichuan Basin.

The Min River, broad and long like a jade belt, runs through the north and south of the Western Sichuan Plain. The *Classic of Mountains and Seas* states: 'The Min River has three branches, the largest being the Yangtze, which originates from Mount Wen.' From the pre-Qin period to the present dynasty, people have regarded it as the main source of the Yangtze River. Therefore, although the Min River flows southward, it is still referred to by many literati as the 'Great River flowing east.'

It was now the peach blossom flood season, and the river water rushed down from the rugged mountains at the border of Sichuan and Gansu, seemingly posing a constant threat of a thousand-mile surge and a rush in all directions. However, with the Dujiangyan Irrigation System, the fierce and wild river water was magically transformed into a gentle stream, nourishing the land of Sichuan. From then on, the land of Bashu, which had been plagued by unpredictable droughts and floods, became a land of plenty, free from famine, known as the 'Land of Abundance.'

Therefore, some say that the most reliable engineering project in China is not the Great Wall but the Dujiangyan Irrigation System. A thousand years after its creation, the Han people had lost the protection of the Great Wall, but the people of Sichuan still enjoyed the protection of Dujiangyan, with fertile fields stretching for a thousand miles, vast forests and bamboo groves, abundant vegetables and fruits, and the beauty of rice, fish, and shrimp. Everywhere, people enjoyed a life of happiness, free from the worries of bad years, all thanks to its blessings.

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It was March, and the mountains around Qingcheng County, about a hundred and eighty miles south of Chengdu, were layered and undulating. Mountains and ridges, deep gorges, and misty clouds, all covered with green bamboo, formed a lush and verdant landscape. The spring breeze blew, and the green waves rippled, the bamboo swayed like waves, the mist changed, and the scenery was magnificent, making the viewers forget their worries and feel as if they were in a fairyland.

The famous Shiwang Village was nestled in the midst of these vast bamboo forests, surrounded by green mountains, with a large lake to the east, whose water was always clear as a mirror.

The abundant bamboo and water resources made Shiwang Village suitable for making bamboo charcoal. In the Northern Song Dynasty, the north used stone coal (coal), the south used wood charcoal, and Sichuan used bamboo charcoal. The charcoal made from the giant bamboo of the region was easy to ignite, smokeless, and durable, and was highly favored by the residents of the city.

Scattered around the lake were several charcoal kilns, each about ten feet high, indicating that the people here had not failed to take advantage of nature's bounty. In fact, the bamboo charcoal produced by this village was top-notch in the entire bamboo sea, and it had a market not only in the county and Meizhou City but also attracted merchants from Chengdu, making the village naturally prosperous.

In this land of happiness, seemingly free from sorrow, a faint cry could be heard.

Upon closer inspection, the sound came from the largest kiln on the east side of the lake. It was the noon break, and the kiln was quiet, allowing the sound to be heard. The sound came from a small shack in the northwest corner.

This small, arched shack was made of bamboo poles for the walls and thatched grass for the roof, and it was dilapidated and in need of repair. It could barely accommodate a person and did not protect from the wind and rain, forming a stark contrast to the whitewashed walls and black-tiled roofs of the village.

Through the slightly open door, one could see inside, where there was only a bamboo board serving as a bed, with no other furnishings. A thin, small boy lay on the bamboo board, covered with a thin blanket, his eyes tightly closed, and his face pale.

Two boys, one older and one younger, were kneeling by the bed. The older one, who looked about the same age as the one lying down, was tightly holding his hand. The younger one, only three or four years old, was just crying, repeatedly saying in a Sichuan-accented Mandarin, "Third Brother, wake up, Xiao Liux doesn't want to eat the steamed bun anymore..."

His continuous crying made the other boy's heart ache, and tears welled up in his eyes. He held the hand with all his might, as if afraid that the person lying down would disappear.

Suddenly, a faint cry of pain was heard, and the two boys' eyes widened.

After a moment, the person on the bed slowly opened his eyes. His pupils slowly focused, and he looked at the two boys, then couldn't help but smile. Although weak, he was delighted and said, "Whose parent is so irresponsible, thinking they're the Bull Demon King, turning their child into, cough, the Red Boy?"

His accent was strange and his words were muffled, but the two boys didn't mind. The younger one immediately pounced on him, rubbing his neck and saying, "Third Brother, you're awake..." The older one, no longer looking so miserable, wiped his tears and smiled, saying in a hoarse voice, "Third Brother, you scared us to death."

The person lying down, though it was hard to understand, could still grasp the simple sentences. He widened his eyes and said, "You... you, what do you call me?" As he spoke, he slowly raised his hand to separate the child rubbing his cheek, saying, "Little friend, you should use a handkerchief to wipe your nose, not Uncle's face..."

Before he could finish, he froze, because as he raised his hand, he saw a wrist thin like a reed. Shocked, he looked down, from the wrist to the forearm, from the forearm to the upper arm, and then to his body...

What the hell, this wasn't an adult's arm. Had he been eaten by a water ghost after falling into the water? The shock spread throughout his body. He touched his chin, which was smooth like an egg, and then down, no Adam's apple, and further down, no pubic hair... He was completely stunned.

The two boys were also dumbfounded, watching him lie there, touching himself as if possessed, not daring to breathe. Then they saw him struggling to get up, and the older boy quickly went to help him. Being young, he didn't know what to say, just staring blankly at him.

"Don't just stare, where's a mirror, I want to see too," he said, looking at the bald-headed, thick-headed child with short braids on both sides of his head, feeling quite close to him.

"Does Third Brother want a bronze mirror?" The child guessed, and seeing him nod, he said sadly, "The Big Lady won't give it to you..."

"Alright, alright..." He didn't argue with the child, lying back down and saying, "Find the Big Lady, the one in charge..."

"Must it be so?" The child hesitated, clearly afraid of the Big Lady.

He didn't insist, as the child was speaking normally, and it seemed that was his accent. He quickly calmed down... The situation was too bizarre, and it was better not to make a fuss before figuring things out: "Forget it, let me rest for a while."

The two boys obediently closed their mouths and squatted by the bed, giving him peace and quiet.

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In the silence, he began to sort out his thoughts... He had been doing morning exercises by the river when a minivan lost control and fell into the water. Without thinking, he jumped in. He didn't remember how many people he saved, but he eventually ran out of strength, choked on water, and sank, losing consciousness.

How did he wake up and revert to a pre-adolescent child? What was going on? It made no sense! The more he thought, the more his head hurt, and the pain became unbearable, as if his skull was about to split. At the peak of the pain, with a loud bang, his skull seemed to crack open, and memories clearly not his own flooded in from all sides. His vision went black, and he fainted again.

When he woke up again, it was already dark, and the shack was pitch black, but he didn't mind, as the darkness conveniently hid his terrified expression... His mind now contained the memories of a ten-year-old child from ancient times.

In the memories, the child's surname was Chen, and he had a father but no mother. He had four brothers... The two in front of him were his two younger brothers, the older one called Wulang and the younger one called Liulang. The names sounded a bit confusing because, in this era, cousins were ranked together. His father had two brothers, and the two families had six sons in total, ranked from oldest to youngest.

He was called Sanlang, and he had an older brother, Chen Erlang, who had been studying in the county since last year. As for the child's father, Chen Erlang, he was a scholar and, coinciding with the year of the imperial examination, was traveling to study with his peers, leaving the child and his two younger brothers at home...

Clearly, this shack was not Chen Erlang's home. Chen Erlang's home was in the village, with a spacious courtyard. To be precise, it was the home of both Chen Erlang and his older brother, Chen Dalang. Although both brothers had families and children, they had not divided the household after the deaths of their parents.

The Chen family had made their fortune from making bamboo charcoal and owned the largest charcoal kiln in Shiwang Village. Although they were not extremely wealthy, they had a pair of maids and over a dozen workers, making them one of the wealthiest families in Shiwang Village.

But why were Chen Erlang's three children living in a shack at the charcoal kiln?

The ten-year-old child's mind was simple. He only knew that after his father left, they were driven to this shack by the Big Lady. The older brothers, Sanlang and Wulang, had to work every day... Making charcoal required a lot of water, and the kiln had a water wheel, but it broke in the spring, and the Big Lady didn't have it repaired. She made the two brothers draw water together, and they had to bring enough water every day to get their dinner.

Even with all their might, the ten-year-old child couldn't supply enough water. Fortunately, the workers, seeing the brothers' pitiful state, would help out when they had time, allowing the three brothers to have food.

Even with help, even with each cart of water only filled to a third, it was still an excessive and time-consuming task for two ten-year-old children. For over a month since the water wheel broke, the brothers had been doing this, no wonder Wulang looked so miserable...

But today, the Big Lady acted unusually, staying at the kiln all morning to supervise the work. This made it even harder for the brothers, who had been drawing and transporting water since morning, working for nearly two hours, until they were dizzy and weak. During the last water draw, the weaker Sanlang, whose constitution was not as strong as his younger brother, stumbled and fell into the water... This was the last memory of the child.

Why did everyone fall into the water, but the result was a complete transformation? Was he now the child, or was the child now him, or were they intertwined? He couldn't figure it out, and he doubted he would ever figure it out.

Ultimately, he was an optimistic person and decided to pretend to be the child until he found a solution, to avoid being mistaken for a monster and killed...

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