Yun Ye had always hoped to live like a pig.
In his previous world, marriage, children, and buying a house had consumed almost all his time and energy. The grand ambitions he’d sworn as a youth had long been crushed to powder beneath life’s chariot. Now that his life had reset to zero and he could start over, he couldn’t find a goal.
The appearance of his family rekindled his enthusiasm for struggle. Yes, he had eight younger sisters who needed adequate dowries, which made his eyes practically turn into copper coins. In Chang’an, there was a home waiting for him. Whether cold or warm, Yun Ye urgently wanted to throw himself into its embrace and was willing to pay any price for it.
Yun Ye was confused. Hadn’t he always wanted to escape such burdens in life? How was it that as soon as he shouldered this burden, his spirits multiplied a hundredfold? Was this the meaning of life? The continuation of life, the maintenance of family ties, sending off one’s elders, finding food for the young, then being buried in the earth by those who’ve grown, becoming a ghost in dimensional space watching generation after generation of descendants cycle through the same?
Occasionally, one or two people would forget this responsibility, or perhaps grow weary of it, finding all sorts of reasons to escape—for glory, like Yi Ya cooking his son; for ideals, like the Prince of Zhao who starved his own father to death; for righteousness, like Liu Bang sharing his broth.
Yun Ye wasn’t that kind of superior person. As long as the enemy put a knife to his wife and children’s throats, he’d do whatever they asked, absolutely without conditions. So he couldn’t become famous or distinguished, and naturally wouldn’t be remembered by history, along with everyone else. Among the masses, people like himself were absolutely the majority—otherwise Chinese history wouldn’t have lasted five thousand years. The more abnormal someone was, the more likely history would remember them—this was truth, just like on the internet, the most popular were absolutely the most abnormal. Rule-following ants received no attention, but an ant wearing a hat was different—it had transcended the concept of “ant,” and being remembered in ant history became inevitable.
Although Yun Ye was an ant different from the others, he decided he must align himself with the common ants, striving to become a member of the common ants. So like everyone else in the military camp, he trained diligently, deliberately imitated their words and actions, studied classical Chinese earnestly, and practiced calligraphy with a brush.
Whenever this happened, Yun Ye was immensely grateful for that obsessive Taiwanese boss—it was he who had forged Yun Ye’s solid ability to read and write traditional characters. Although there were still some differences from Tang Dynasty classical characters, this was enough for Yun Ye. Cheng Chumo didn’t recognize as many characters as he did.
In autumn, once the rain started, it went on endlessly. Even the air was damp, and the blankets were ice-cold without a trace of warmth. Yun Ye really couldn’t understand why, when there was a spacious city to live in, Old Cheng camped outside the city and strictly forbade entry. Taking ten thousand steps back, even if over ten thousand men built a simple military camp, it would be better than living in damp tents. Yet Old Cheng remained unmoved, preferring to live in a tent himself, rubbing his aching knees and cursing the damned weather, but just wouldn’t give that order.
“Without an imperial decree, one cannot build fortifications. This is a great taboo for generals, and also His Majesty’s great taboo.” His brother was the best—Cheng Chumo secretly told Yun Ye why they couldn’t build houses. Yun Ye had almost forgotten he was in the peak period of a feudal dynasty. Normally in Chang’an, Old Cheng could throw tantrums and roll on the ground anywhere without anyone troubling him, but once he became a commanding general, the strict military law was a sharp sword hanging over his head. At the slightest disobedience, steel blades would chop off heads without a moment’s hesitation.
I’m going to check on my potatoes—who dares stop me?
Something strange happened. Just as Yun Ye walked to the edge of the thatched pavilion, two armored men holding steel blades blocked his way, asking Yun Ye for an authorization token. Yun Ye was stunned. I need an authorization token to look at my own things? Just as he was about to explode, he saw cold light flashing in the armored men’s eyes, very much looking like they’d cut him down. Yun Ye obediently shut his mouth and was just about to turn and leave to find Old Cheng for an explanation when Li Chengqian walked out of the pavilion. Clearly this fellow was also bored with nothing to do. Yun Ye hastily clasped his hands in salute. Li Chengqian smiled and returned the courtesy, but unlike Yun Ye’s perfunctory gesture, he stood straight, clasped his hands together, leaned forward fifteen degrees—his etiquette was perfect and beyond reproach.
“Brother Yun wishes to view the auspicious treasure? This way please.” As he spoke, he extended his hand to invite the guest. The two armored men sheathed their blades and stood by the fence like two stone sculptures. Yun Ye walked inside in a daze, feeling that the Crown Prince’s gesture just now should have been his own. When had he become the guest?
Li Chengqian seemed to see through Yun Ye’s confusion and explained as they walked: “The treasure Brother Yun presented has been designated by Father Emperor as our Great Tang’s foremost auspicious sign, demonstrating that the Great Tang is blessed by Heaven and is the legitimate ruler of all under Heaven. Only thus would such an auspicious treasure appear in the world. Brother Yun’s merit in presenting it will be recorded in the historical records. Congratulations and felicitations.”
Yun Ye’s first reaction was that Li Chengqian’s face merged with the face of the civil servant from his past life who, when processing his property certificate, told him he only had usage rights but not land ownership rights.
“Your Highness is too kind. Being able to contribute to our Great Tang is Yun’s honor.” After saying this, Yun Ye felt like a Japanese person—after being abused, still lavishly praising how comfortable the abuse was. The radiance of feudalism had finally shone upon him.
The conversation with Li Chengqian was extremely pleasant. His words always struck the most emotional part of your heart, combined with his handsome face, soothing voice, and naturally flowing hand gestures—the imperial education was displayed to perfection. He made you feel that not respectfully presenting the potatoes to the imperial family was practically treason, and you should present your family property as well, without regret afterward. If he had this ability himself, he’d have long since been a manager, damn it. Would he still need to carry a backpack searching mountains and valleys for foreigners? Then get thrown into the Tang Dynasty by a wormhole to be trained as special forces?
Alright, Yun Ye surrendered. The potatoes should indeed be presented to the imperial family. All treasures in the world should be献给 献给 the great, glorious, omnipotent King of Kings, His Majesty Li Er.
“Since the day before yesterday, the leaves of the auspicious treasure have been turning yellow. Has the time for harvest arrived?” Not until Li Chengqian pointed at the yellowing potato leaves and asked Yun Ye did he pull him back from his passionate fantasy of dedicating his life to the Great Tang. Wiping away the drool about to flow out, he carefully recalled the potato growth period and realized it was indeed close to harvest season. So he said to Li Chengqian: “The potato growth period is about five months. Now it’s been four and a half months, meeting the harvest conditions. This subordinate truly doesn’t know how long potatoes need to grow in the Great Tang. Why don’t we dig one up and have a look?”
He really wanted to eat roasted potatoes too much, so he instigated Li Chengqian to dig one up and look, taking the opportunity to get a few potatoes back to roast and eat.
Li Chengqian sternly rejected Yun Ye’s improper scheme, claiming they must wait until the potatoes were completely mature before harvesting. This greatly disappointed Yun Ye. Something that clearly belonged to him—now even approaching it was life-threatening, and even when mature, people weren’t allowed to eat them. The feudal era had no human rights!