Chapter 1: I Gave Myself to You

“Ah Chuan…”

“Tonight, Yun gave herself to you…”

“From now on, just pretend Yun is dead…”

In the midst of his hazy stupor, the sound of a young woman’s soft sobbing reached his ears. A warm, supple body pressed close, fragrant and feverish.

He had no idea how much time passed.

Lin Chuan opened his eyes.

What lay before him was not the military hospital, but a dilapidated thatched cottage. The coarse bedding reeked of mildew, straw raincoats hung upon the mottled earthen wall, and the corners were cluttered with odds and ends.

Where was this? And… what happened last night? The girl…

Before he could make sense of it, his mind erupted in a blinding roar. An ocean of memories detonated within his skull.

“I’ve crossed into another world?”

This was the Great Qian Dynasty—a dynasty that had never existed in any history book. The place was Willow Village, a tiny settlement on the borderlands.

The body he now occupied was also called Lin Chuan, a poor and destitute scholar. He and the girl next door, Liu Yun, had been childhood sweethearts, betrothed since infancy.

Three years ago, Yun’s father passed away, delaying their wedding indefinitely. Now, in just two months, her mourning period would end.

But Old Master Zhang, the local landlord, suddenly appeared at their door with his house guards, brandishing a promissory note. He claimed that before Yun’s father died, he had borrowed twenty taels of silver and never repaid it. With interest piling up, the sum doubled each year—forty taels the first, eighty the next—now demanding a hundred and forty taels.

If they could not pay, then once the mourning was over, Yun would be seized as collateral.

One hundred and forty taels! An astronomical sum! The villagers, toiling all year long, would be lucky to earn even a fraction of that.

Everyone knew what was really going on. Yun’s father had been an honest, upright man—he would never have borrowed money from the Zhangs. The truth was, the Zhang family’s second son had been gravely ill for years, and some wandering charlatan had convinced Old Master Zhang that only a virgin whose birth chart matched his could save the boy.

Relying on his cousin, Zhang Hongdao, a captain in the provincial garrison, Old Master Zhang was always tyrannical. He dared to forge a promissory note just to snatch Yun for his sickly son’s wedding.

Poor Yun and her mother, left all alone, had no way to resist such banditry and could only weep day and night.

As for Lin Chuan’s predecessor, a penniless scholar with no academic honors, he was beneath the Zhangs’ notice.

Recalling these memories, Lin Chuan realized everything that had happened the previous night was real—

Yun’s snowy, delicate waist, her half-exposed bosom pressed against his chest. She bit her lip, whimpering, her breath warm and damp. The strings of her undergarment hung loose, and only soft gasps escaped her lips…

It had not been a dream!

His gaze fell upon a small, dark-red stain on the coarse bedding.

His heart pounded violently.

The former Lin Chuan and Yun truly loved one another, yet could not defy the world’s cruelty. Their desperate act was an attempt to use Yun’s lost innocence as their last line of defense.

Lin Chuan fell silent, his soul scoured by grief. Though his own spirit now inhabited this body, the original’s feelings and memories had merged with his own. Yun was a good girl—her selfless act entrusted her entire life and honor to him.

But they were far too naïve. Did they really think the loss of her maidenhood would keep Yun from the Zhang household? They never considered Old Master Zhang’s fury if he found out. Who knew what monstrous acts he might commit?

This was a man who wouldn’t hesitate to drown someone alive in a pond…

Lin Chuan frowned.

The memories offered up only images of cowardice and evasion—silent tears, endless regrets for failing to earn a scholar’s title. He used to boast that “a true scholar dies for his confidant,” yet now, with Yun in desperate peril, he could not protect the woman he loved.

What sort of man was that?

With a sudden surge of anger, Lin Chuan slammed a fist into the bed.

“Chuan’er, you’re awake?” came a voice, wrinkled and weary, as an old woman pushed open the door.

“Mother?” Lin Chuan blurted instinctively.

This was the original Lin Chuan’s mother, Madam Lin, her temples streaked with gray, her hands calloused and cracked, the nails still caked with ashes from the stove—she had clearly just finished her chores.

She approached the bed, her withered fingers gently brushing his forehead.

“I know you’re full of resentment…” Her voice caught. “But that Old Master Zhang is wealthy and powerful. We can’t fight him…”

Looking at his mother’s gnarled hands and stooped frame, Lin Chuan’s chest tightened.

He knew all too well—this was no one’s fault.

It was the way of the world.

These were storm-tossed times. The Great Qian Dynasty, founded more than a century before, now teetered on the brink of ruin. Northern wolf-rider hordes raided the borders each year, leaving the frontier people destitute. In the south, floods raged ceaselessly, refugees wandered, and bandits ruled the land. The imperial court was corrupt, and crushing taxes left the people gasping for breath.

Willow Village, perched on the border, suffered most of all. Wolf riders often crossed over, looting money and food. Life was barely tolerable—who could possibly stand against the Zhangs? Especially with a captain of the provincial garrison behind them.

In these days, when lives were as cheap as grass, such forgeries and the seizing of women were all too common. The common folk dared only to seethe in silence.

This was the harsh reality.

In this world, power and silver reigned supreme.

The blood of a special forces soldier coursed through Lin Chuan’s veins, surging with defiance.

Troubled times give rise to heroes.

If fate had sent him to this era, he would not merely eke out an existence.

“I’m all right, Mother,” Lin Chuan said softly.

Madam Lin said nothing, but produced a rough cloth napkin from her bosom, unfolding it to reveal half a rock-hard, stale bun. She broke off a small piece and pressed it into Lin Chuan’s hand. “Eat a little to fill your stomach.”

The crumbs scratched his palm, yet Lin Chuan could not bring himself to eat. Suddenly thrust into this world, facing such a predicament, he had no appetite at all.

His mother rose, glancing at the disordered books on the table with a sigh. She and her husband had struggled all their lives to send their son to school, but her husband had died of illness last year, and she wondered how many more years her body could endure.

She began to tidy the table.

“Mother, burn those books,” Lin Chuan said.

She flinched and turned.

“I’m done studying,” he said. “I want to find work.”

She was stunned, then nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Very well. Your father was friendly with Uncle Zhao—the village blacksmith. I’ll ask if he’ll take you as an apprentice…”

“I won’t be an apprentice,” Lin Chuan shook his head. “I want… to join the army.”

The border wars had grown fierce of late. He remembered the border garrison had posted a reward: kill a Tartar and earn ten taels of silver, three severed heads and you’d be promoted to junior flag officer.

Junior flag officer—though the lowest rank, it held real power in the army. One did not have to bow to county officials and could command auxiliary troops.

Most importantly, the border garrisons and the local militias were long at odds. If he made a name for himself in the border army, Old Master Zhang would no longer be a threat.

“What?” Madam Lin hadn’t caught on. “Join the army?”

Her face turned ashen. “No! You’re a scholar, how could you join the army? Absolutely not…”

“Without academic honors, a scholar’s life won’t fill our bellies,” Lin Chuan said. “At least soldiers get paid…”

He didn’t dare reveal his true intentions—his mother would never approve.

Hearing this, she hesitated. She hated the idea, but her son was right. The world was a mess, the county was conscripting village braves, the prefecture was expanding its garrison, the border army even more so. The court was building new forts and recruiting soldiers in every village.

But she was just a woman—she understood none of this. Who could say which army would offer both safety and wages?

“My son, why don’t you… ask your Uncle Zhao?”

“Why Uncle Zhao?” Lin Chuan was puzzled.

“He knows a lot of people. Just the other day, some soldiers came to ask for his help…”