Chapter 1: The Intersecting Worlds

Great Zhou Dynasty, Shuntian Prefecture.

Within the city of Beiping, at Xiaohuazhi Lane.

It was the deep of night. Winter’s moonlight, like a bolt of torn silver satin, lay evenly upon the dilapidated one-courtyard, three-chamber dwelling.

“Damn it, those useless brats Jia Rong and Jia Qiang are the very definition of wastrels—sloppy and careless in everything.” Remembering the night’s events, Wu Tiande could not help but grumble with indignation.

At the banquet, they had sworn before Jia Lian that they would see the drunken Wu Tiande safely home. Yet once through the courtyard gate, disdaining the filth and squalor, they had tossed him inside and quickly slipped away. Thus, Wu Tiande spent most of the night asleep on the cold blue-brick ground, waking only when the chill seeped into his bones.

In truth, he had frozen to death. The soul now inhabiting Wu Tiande’s body had crossed the vastness of hundreds of light-years from Blue Star.

In his previous life, Wu Tiande was a rich young man who squandered his family’s millions under the pretense of studying music at Berkeley, indulging in pleasure and romance with aspiring starlets. His wanton ways drew the wrath of his elders, who soon cut off all support. Only his kind-hearted aunt could not bear to see him homeless, and so found him a place in the prestigious “4+4” extended clinical medicine program at Beiping Medical College. After years of study, he finally graduated, doctorate in hand, and secured a position at a top hospital in Beiping. Just as he was poised to prove that even an arts graduate could excel in clinical medicine, fate played its cruel hand—he died in a drunken stupor at his welcome banquet. Who could he blame for such irony?

He could only regret the trove of passionate videos he’d left hidden in his computer’s C drive, uncertain whose hands they would fall into—or if they might one day mar the shining futures of his ex-girlfriends: Nana, Qiqi, Wenwen, Runrun, Mimi, Bingbing, and others. But such matters hardly concerned him now.

He had read Dream of the Red Chamber thoroughly and even perused the infamous “Rebirth at the End of Red Chamber” by the Shaanxi-Gansu rogue. With ready-made templates for survival, the prospect of transmigrating into the Red Chamber world did not dismay him.

“Since I am here, I’d best make peace with it,” Wu Tiande sighed.

As he worked to absorb his predecessor’s memories, he realized his circumstances were far from favorable.

Wu Tiande’s family had once been servants of the Wang household, under the Grand Marshal and County Earl. His mother died young in childbirth, and his father and two elder brothers, serving as household guards, lost their lives in battle while escorting Lord Wang Zidah back to the capital.

For this meritorious service, the Wang family not only rewarded Wu Tiande with wealth, but also freed him from servitude and recommended him for study at the Jia Clan’s charitable academy.

But Wu Tiande was then but a boy in his early teens—suddenly unshackled, flush with cash, and bereft of guidance. Falling in with classmates and cronies like Jia Lian, Jia Rong, Feng Ziying, and Liu Xianglian, he quickly succumbed to pleasure and extravagance, burning through his compensation and plunging into debt.

If not for his uncle, Wu Xindeng, steward of the Rong Mansion’s treasury, who had forcibly held on to the deed to this house, Wu Tiande would have sold off even this last property.

In short, his predecessor had shown himself utterly worthless.

His uncle believed that, since the path of scholarship was closed to his nephew, perhaps the martial path was an option. Noting Wu Tiande’s knack for firearms and having learned a few tricks from his ne’er-do-well friends, Wu Xindeng pulled strings to get him into the Shenji Battalion as a junior flag officer—a seventh-rank post, with an annual salary of forty-two taels of silver, an official saber and musket, and ten men under his command. He was, on paper at least, a man of some standing.

Yet this left Lady Wang Xifeng, wife of Jia Lian and candidate for prefecture, in an awkward position.

Back when her father Wang Zidah was recuperating in Beiping, he had promised to choose a beautiful, loyal maid from the household to wed Wu Tiande when he came of age—a pledge her uncle Wang Zitong also endorsed. After all, Wu Tiande’s father and brothers had given their lives for the family; arranging a good marriage for the boy was only fair.

---

But during marriage negotiations between the Jia and Wang families, Wang Xifeng, wanting to display her own prowess, swept up all the pretty maids in her father’s household, leaving none for Wu Tiande. At the time, she considered Wu Tiande a lost cause, addicted to dissipation, and felt no qualms about offending him.

Now, however, Wu Tiande had reformed and held an official post. The situation was different. If her uncle Wang Zitong were to ask, would it not be embarrassing if Wu Tiande was still unmarried? It would reflect poorly on her and make it hard to answer to her elders.

With Wang Zitong now serving as the commander of the capital’s garrison, and the Shenji Battalion under his jurisdiction, it was entirely possible he might encounter Wu Tiande. Should the matter arise, a few careless words could cost Wang Xifeng dearly in family esteem.

Wu Tiande’s marriage, a trivial matter in itself, now touched on the reputation of the Wang clan of Jinling—a grave affair. The family could not afford even the suspicion of faithlessness, lest others hesitate to serve them in the future.

With this in mind, Wang Xifeng tasked her husband Jia Lian to invite Wu Tiande to a banquet at the Fengyue Pavilion, with Jia Rong and Jia Qiang from the Ning Mansion as companions. Ostensibly, the four were old classmates from the Jia Clan Academy, so matters could be spoken of openly.

Jia Lian, emboldened by wine, spoke plainly and without pretense: “Your sister-in-law brought four maids as part of her dowry. Over the past year, misfortune has claimed all but one—Ping’er. Now that she serves me, I cannot in good conscience give her to you, especially as she is now a woman and likely beneath your notice.

“My father-in-law’s branch, though it left a few young maids in Beiping, saw every pretty one defiled by my worthless brother-in-law, Wang Ren. It is truly infuriating.

“In this short notice, there is no suitable girl to marry you, and none befitting your present rank. Your sister-in-law proposes to grant you a hundred taels of fine silver, so you may find a wife of your choosing. Whatever lady you wed, the Jia and Wang families will support and recognize her, and never raise objections.”

Jia Rong added, “A hundred taels is no small sum. Just recently, Granny Lai bought a clever ten-year-old maid for only twenty taels. With a hundred taels in hand, what beauty could you not obtain?”

Not stopping there, Jia Lian produced a blue-covered booklet and pressed it upon Wu Tiande. “I’ve long known you’re fond of sword and gun. This manual is the blade technique of the Luoyang Golden Sabre Wang family, who wish to ally with the Wang clan of Jinling. As a gesture, they sent this to your sister-in-law. Neither of us can read much or endure the hardships of training, so it’s of no use to us. Take it as our apology and goodwill.”

With the couple’s sincerity, the generous offer, and Jia Rong and Jia Qiang’s encouragement, the original Wu Tiande happily agreed. “Rest assured, Second Master Lian. If General Wang inquires, I need only say, ‘The Mongols are not yet vanquished, how can I think of marriage?’ I’m sure Lord Wang will have no objection.”

“Excellent, excellent,” Jia Lian replied, satisfied that the matter was settled.

Still riding the happy momentum, Jia Lian invited Wu Tiande to attend a hundred-day feast at the Rong Mansion in the near future.

“A hundred-day feast?” Wu Tiande slurred, already inebriated from their relentless toasts.

Jia Lian patiently explained, “My wife bore me a daughter, and I did not wish to make a fuss over a money-loser, but her birth fell on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month—a day of ill omen. My wife hopes to host a grand banquet to dispel the inauspiciousness and pray for blessings.”

Jia Lian thought: with the dinner eaten, silver bestowed, and Wu Tiande invited to a family banquet, their relations were now clear—should Wang Zitong ask, there would be nothing more to say.

The original Wu Tiande, understanding but in no position to refuse, agreed readily.

That feast lasted long into the night, ending only when Wu Tiande was thoroughly drunk and dead to the world.

For most, such favor from Jia Lian and Wang Xifeng, plus the goodwill of Jia Rong and Jia Qiang, would be a windfall. But Wu Tiande, as a transmigrator, knew well that none of the four great clans of Jinling came to good ends. Marked as an associate of the nobility’s faction from the moment he entered the Shenji Battalion, he feared this might hinder his future prospects.

Fortunately, the downfall of the four great clans was still some ways off, and as a mere seventh-rank flag officer, he was unlikely to attract much attention. In time, he could find a way to transfer elsewhere and gradually distance himself from these powerful families.

With his plan settled, Wu Tiande ceased to worry. Drunk and blurry-eyed, he collapsed onto his kang and slept deeply.

When morning came, Wu Tiande finally had leisure to examine his three-chamber courtyard: a main room, two side rooms, and east and west wings. No wonder Jia Rong and Jia Qiang refused to come in—the place was so dilapidated that, in the faint purple glow of dawn, it seemed a haunted house.

---

The main room’s window lattice was half missing, the paper long since gnawed away by wind and rain. Light slipped through the holes, casting slanting patches upon the dust-laden immortal table. The doors to the side wings hung ajar, their hinges rusted so badly that every breeze set them to groaning, like muffled sighs in the dark. In the corner, a pomegranate tree stood bare, its branches clutching at the air like the wrinkled limbs of an old painting. In the center, the stone table had a broken corner; its legs, warped and askew, barely supported the top. A few empty wine jars lay scattered nearby, their mouths capped with a thin layer of dust.

Everywhere he looked, desolation reigned.

Though Beiping’s land was precious, such a humble dwelling was worth no more than thirty or fifty taels—perhaps less than the pigeon eggs served at the Rong Mansion’s banquets.

Wu Tiande let out a bitter laugh. If this was not hell’s starting point, it was little better.

“System? Where is my system?”

He shook his head, hoping to jostle out the legendary transmigrator’s system, but only succeeded in making himself dizzy. The fabled, omnipotent cheat never appeared.

Would he have to wait until he married, sired children, and grew old before some “polygamy-makes-you-strong” or “late-bloomer” system arrived? Wu Tiande remained cautiously optimistic.

He knew well: if a thing did not appear at the beginning, it was unlikely to show up later.

“Where is my golden finger? Why don’t I even have a cheat?”

He examined himself inside and out, scanning for any miraculous change. He did not expect clairvoyance or telepathy, but even a certain enhancement below the waist would have its uses. Was there no transmigrator’s benefit—no memory boost, speed reading, or photographic recall to help him ace the civil service exams and enjoy a meteoric rise?

Recalling the Wang family blade manual Jia Lian had stuffed into his hands, Wu Tiande’s thoughts stirred. He took out the manual and flipped it open. Thankfully, his friends Feng Ziying and Liu Xianglian had taught him some basic martial moves, so the techniques were not wholly foreign to him. As for speed reading or perfect memory, there was no sign of either.

“Damn it—without a cheat, how am I supposed to survive?” Wu Tiande cursed at the heavens.

When he turned to the title page and saw the signature “Wang Yuanba,” he was stunned. The Wang family of Luoyang, the chivalrous Wang Yuanba of the Central Plains? Wasn’t this the minor character from the martial novel “Smiling, Proud Wanderer”?

Could it be that he hadn’t transmigrated into just the Red Chamber’s world, but also into that of “Smiling, Proud Wanderer”? Or was this realm a fusion of both?

“Now this is interesting,” Wu Tiande mused.