"Where is your husband?"
"Your servant replies, he still lies on his sickbed."
"When will your family pay the taxes?"
"Rest assured, Your Excellency, we shall not miss the deadline."
...
In the darkness, Chen Lei overheard a man and a woman conversing. The man's voice was domineering, the woman's submissive.
"Sss—"
He struggled to pry open his eyelids, only to be greeted by a completely unfamiliar environment. Where am I?Wasn't I working late?
"Sss—"
A sudden, searing pain lanced through his skull, and a flood of foreign memories surged into his mind, forcing him to confront an undeniable truth: Have I transmigrated?
This place was Poyang County, a remote border town of the Great Sheng Dynasty. The original owner had lived in Yanbian Village outside the county seat—a poor scholar who relied on his father's hunting for survival. Life had been bearable until six months prior, when his father never returned from a night hunt in the mountains. With the family's pillar gone and the original owner failing the child examination, a dual blow had left him gravely ill. And into this body, Chen Lei had awakened.
"Ah, Brother Lei, you're awake!"
A young woman entered the room carrying a bowl of herbal medicine, her face lighting up with joy at the sight of the waking youth. She hurried to his bedside, her ill-fitting clothes swaying like two rabbits tumbling inside as she moved. Her name was Qinglian, a child bride bought by the original owner's father when the latter was very young. She had always cared for the original owner like an elder sister, staying by his side even after his father's death and his own illness.
Only… the original owner had looked down on her. Because she was the descendant of a criminal, exiled to the border and nearly sold into a brothel—she was of the lowest slave caste. The original owner, arrogant and conceited, believed he would one day pass the imperial exams, marry into a noble family, and become a son-in-law of distinction. He thought she was unworthy of him, treating her like a servant in daily life.
"Brother Lei, how are you feeling?"
Qinglian sat by the bed, placing her hand on the youth's forehead and exclaiming in surprise, "You're not feverish anymore?"
Chen Lei sat up, testing his limbs. Apart from some weakness, he felt fine—his illness had vanished with his transmigration.
"Blessed be the Bodhisattva."
Qinglian's joy was visible: "Brother Lei, drink your medicine first. I'll go make you something to eat."
Watching her walk away, the movement of her hips like a millstone, Chen Lei took ten minutes to digest his new reality. Since I'm here, I must make the best of it.He had always adapted quickly to new environments; now, he needed to find a way to survive in this world.
He drained the bitter herbal medicine in one gulp and went to the next room. There, he saw Qinglian almost entirely buried in the rice jar, only her hips sticking out as she struggled to scoop out grain. After much effort, she managed to fill a small handful of millet. Since the original owner's father died, the family had lost its source of income, and the original owner's recent illness had exhausted their savings. Now, they were penniless.
"Was that the tax official coming to collect the autumnal tribute earlier?"
Chen Lei stood behind Qinglian. "How much did they demand?"
"Three taels of silver."
"Three taels?"
Chen Lei gasped. "Are they counting Father as well?"
"Mhm."
Qinglian nodded softly. "The tax clerk said since they couldn't find Father's body, he wasn't considered dead,they wouldn't cancel his household registration, and we still had to pay taxes. The hunt tax isn't exempt either."
Chen Lei cursed inwardly. The Great Sheng Dynasty's taxes were already exorbitant, and with frequent wars in recent years, the levies kept increasing.
"Brother Lei, don't worry."
Qinglian's eyes were filled with worry, but her words were reassuring: "I found work at a tailor shop recently, and I also do laundry for people. I can scrape together some money, little by little."
Clearly, the original owner had been completely unproductive. Even after his father's death, he refused to find a way to earn a living, insisting that Qinglian work herself to the bone. Doesn't he know his own limits?Chen Lei thought, exasperated. He couldn't even pass the scholar exam, yet he dreamed of passing the provincial graduate someday—wasn't that a pipe dream? He couldn't let this continue; he needed to find a way to make a living. Otherwise, if they couldn't pay the taxes, the man would be sent to perform corvée labor, and the woman would be sold into a brothel—both fates worse than death.
"I'll cook."
Qinglian busied herself. Soon, the meal was ready: two bowls of coarse grain porridge mixed with millet, no pickles. This was likely the last of their food.
Chen Lei noticed that his bowl had more millet, while Qinglian's was mostly bran. Bran— the husk of rice, wheat, or soybeans—was rough and dry, almost inedible. In his previous life, it was used as animal feed.
"Eat, Brother Lei."
Qinglian picked up her chopsticks and ate slowly, her fingers red from scrubbing clothes, with small sores on her knuckles. She did everything she could to support the family, short of doing heavy labor reserved for men.
Chen Lei watched her, his heart aching, and lowered his head to eat the unpalatable bran.
"Brother Lei."
Halfway through the meal, Qinglian put down her chopsticks, hesitating before speaking: "Actually, besides the tax silver, we still owe Aunt Li twenty cents for her medical bills. I— I just wanted to suggest, maybe you should rest a few more days, then find work too? If we can't raise the tax silver by the end of the month, I heard they'll take people away…"
She spoke while stealing glances at his face, her fingers nervously picking at her clothes. Every time she mentioned this before, Brother Lei would fly into a rage, saying a scholar shouldn't do manual labor.
"Eat."
Chen Lei shoveled rice into his mouth, silently calculating their finances. Qinglian didn't dare say more, finishing her meal quietly and hurrying off to do needlework.
Chen Lei sat still, deep in thought. In ancient times, unlike the modern world, having strength was enough to find work. He had no land, no scholarly title—all he could do was hunt. The original owner had learned some skills from his father as a child, though he had neglected them over the years. But the basics were still there; he could pick it up again. Plus, since they had to pay the hunt tax anyway, he might as well hunt. There was an old bow left at home.
Chen Lei went to the inner room and took down the dusty longbow from the wall. It should still be usable.But I have no arrows—need to find a way to get some money to buy some.The family had sold almost all their books to survive; the only things left were the writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones that the original owner had treasured as his lifeblood. Without hesitation, Chen Lei packed them up and took them with him. Even though they were low-quality, they sold for two hundred copper coins—about two tenths of a tael of silver. This proved that "poor scholars and rich warriors" wasn't absolute; studying was also expensive.
Chen Lei took the money to the market, heading to the stall that served hunters.
"Xiao Shitou, here to buy arrows?"
The stall owner, Old Xu, a former soldier and old acquaintance of the original owner's father, greeted him: "You planning to go hunting instead of studying?"
"Mhm, I'm buying some old arrows."
Chen Lei selected five second-hand willow-leaf arrows from the stall. "How much?"
"Seventy wen."
Chen Lei haggled: "Old Uncle Xu, old arrows aren't worth that much. Fifty wen at most."
"Fine, fifty wen for you."
Old Xu agreed readily: "I told you, you should have gone hunting long ago. Learn your father's skills, at least you can make a living. Insisting on reading that useless book—can a poor kid like you become an official?"
"Old Uncle is right."
Chen Lei didn't argue. After confirming the arrows were of good quality, he nocked one on the bowstring and aimed at the ground. Suddenly, a few lines of small text appeared before his eyes:
[Skill: Archery (Uninitiated)]
[Progress: (20/100)]