Northern Dynasties.
Narcissus Village.
A farmer's family was holding a funeral, and many villagers came to watch the spectacle; the house was packed with people both inside and out.
"Aunt Zhao, it's been a day and a night, it's time to prepare the scholar's body for burial."
After the village's old mortician finished speaking, he anxiously awaited Aunt Zhao's reply.
Aunt Zhao cried even harder. She looked again at the young man lying on the door panel. This was her eldest son. How she wished her son could come back to life.
She noticed her son's finger twitch slightly, and thinking she was seeing things, she looked again more closely.
Now we can see clearly that the son's finger moved three times in a row.
"Zhao Xian didn't die, he's alive!" the woman shouted excitedly.
Everyone was shocked and looked at the door panel. The person who had been lying stiffly on the door panel was now moving not only his fingers but also his eyes.
"The scholar has come back to life."
The crowd scattered and fled, even the old mortician disappeared without a trace.
At this moment, Zhao Xian's head was throbbing with pain, a pain he had never experienced before. It was at this moment that he felt a large amount of memory information that did not belong to him flooding into his mind.
He finally realized that he had traveled through time.
Zhao Xian was then helped up and seated in a chair, and the door panel was quickly removed.
Once this information was received, it became his memory, and it was very clear.
Gradually, his head seemed to hurt less, and his tightly furrowed brows began to relax.
He was thirty-eight years old, a double PhD in mechanical engineering and materials science. After years of hard work, he had become a senior executive of a listed company with an annual salary of one million and a promising future. How did he end up transmigrating into the body of this poor scholar?
What on earth happened? I had been working for days on end and was so tired that I just lay down on my desk to take a nap. Could this be what happened?
Zhao Xian looked around. It was a brick and tile house. In ancient times, a family that could live in a brick and tile house must have been well-off.
However, the house didn't have many things; apart from some ordinary tables and chairs, there wasn't any decent furniture.
He looked at the people around him; they were all his family members, thin and frail, dressed in tattered clothes. Although there were still tear stains on their faces, they had been replaced by surprise.
Standing next to me was a woman around forty years old, my mother, Li Chun'e. Due to overwork, she looked to be over fifty.
Standing beside them were two young men and a little girl, who were the original owner's two younger brothers and sisters.
The second brother, Zhao Xiaosheng, is twenty years old; the third brother, Zhao Xiaoshan, is sixteen years old; and the girl, Zhao Lingling, is only nine years old.
Because of poor family conditions and lack of food and clothing, the younger siblings were all very thin, especially the younger sister Zhao Lingling, who looked only six or seven years old due to malnutrition.
A wave of sorrow washed over Zhao Xian; these circumstances were all thanks to his scholar brother.
He was a time traveler who had inherited the original owner's body, so they were now a family, and he should do his part for this family.
The original owner of this body was the only scholar in the surrounding villages. He was twenty-four years old this year and had passed the imperial examination at the age of fourteen. In ancient times, he was already a genius.
"Brother, are you hungry? I'll get you something to eat."
The one who spoke was the second brother, Zhao Xiaosheng. He brought out a bowl from the kitchen, which contained several dark cornbread buns.
Zhao Xian was very interested in these cornbreads; he wanted to know what people ate more than a thousand years ago.
He picked up a cornbread and examined it carefully. He didn't know what it was made of; it contained rice bran and wild vegetables. He wondered what it would taste like.
He broke off a small piece, put it in his mouth, and tasted it.
The cornbread had a bitter taste and was hard to swallow. Is this what they usually eat?
He glanced at his mother and siblings, realizing that the cornbread he found hard to swallow was an important staple food for the family.
"You guys eat, I have no appetite."
Zhao Xian handed the bowl to Zhao Xiaosheng.
Li Chun'e sighed. She knew that the scholar's son wouldn't eat cornbread. She would go out later to borrow some flour and make some pancakes.
The younger siblings picked up the cornbread and ate it heartily. No wonder, they hadn't eaten all day.
They wanted a second one, but the bowl was already empty.
"well"
In his past life, after becoming a high-level executive with an annual salary of millions, he was surrounded by beautiful women.
As a single man, he already had a girl he liked, but how did he end up in this time-traveled world? What's the point of all his struggles in life?
He began to rack his brains, trying to figure out how to get back in time. The only way was to commit suicide now, but the cost of doing so was too high, and he might be completely ruined if he tried.
Zhao Xian sighed. Since he was already there, he might as well make the best of it and face reality. He would try to solve the problem of feeding his family first.
"Mom, I'm going out for a walk."
After saying that, he walked towards the door.
His family was already used to this; that's just how the scholar was. He rarely stayed at home and was indifferent to his family.
When he spoke to the villagers, he quoted Confucius and the Book of Poetry, using classical allusions and contemporary references. Most of the villagers were illiterate and had no idea what he was talking about.
Seeing Zhao Xian leave, Li Chun'e sighed. She was the head of the household and had to support the family.
"Xiao Sheng, go fetch water; Xiao Shan, go chop firewood; Lingling, go find some wild vegetables."
"Yes, Mother, we'll go get to work now."
As soon as Zhao Xian stepped out of his house, people started pointing and whispering about him.
"I heard that the scholar has come back to life. It seems to be true. He is still walking around in the village."
"What nonsense are you spouting? What do you mean by 'resurrected corpse'? That's all rubbish, and you actually believe it?"
That day, Master Ma was celebrating his sixtieth birthday and asked the scholar to write a few couplets. The scholar, in high spirits, drank a few too many cups of wine. On his way home, he tripped and fell, losing consciousness. He didn't wake up until a day and a night later.
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