Zhao Hezhen was only sad for a while, then asked Fu Changrong to search the histories for news of her mother and brother.

But in all the books Fu Changrong could find, he searched thoroughly. She also went to the library and felt through all the braille books related to the Wei-Jin period. Nothing.

Zhao Hezhen repeatedly ran her fingers over the passage evaluating her grandfather. Below was a summary by later generations. Zhao Changyu was indeed as contemporaries commented—Jin’s thousand-zhang pine. Not long after his death, Dajin completely fell into chaos. The Divine Province sank, most Han people died in disasters and warfare. In the chaos of war, Han people were called “two-legged sheep.” Not only did common people exchange children to eat, some armies even kept Han people as military provisions, penned up. Whenever disaster struck, tens or hundreds of thousands died.

Only a small portion of Han people fled south, and an extremely small portion survived under northern barbarian regimes.

Zhao Hezhen’s heart ached unbearably, not knowing whether Mother and her brother faced which situation. But regardless of which, it made her grieve endlessly.

When the nest is overturned, no egg remains unbroken. With the country like this, how could one expect the family to be stable?

Fu Changrong closed the history book: “A few brief strokes encapsulated their entire lives.”

Zhao Hezhen: “In this space-time, my parents and brother don’t even have one stroke. History is too cruel—how could a small history book record it all?”

Zhao Hezhen’s desire to return home reached its peak: “I want to go home!”

Even if going back might mean death from Second Household’s schemes, might mean death in war, might even mean being penned as provisions as recorded in the histories—still, she wanted to go home.

Mother was weak, Erlang was so foolish—how could they possibly protect themselves and Mother?

Seeing Zhao Hezhen clench her fists, Fu Changrong consoled: “The situation might not be as bad as we imagine…”

Zhao Hezhen raised her tear-streaked face. Fu Changrong’s belly full of words couldn’t come out.

Nearly three months in this world, even when she first walked a few steps and fell, constantly bumping into tables and chairs, she never cried or had red-rimmed eyes.

She was stronger than any outstanding man he’d seen. Yet now she was covered in tears from worrying about family.

Fu Changrong’s heart softened. He changed his words: “I’ll inquire about how to return.”

His identity made inquiring more convenient.

Over three months, he and Zhao Hezhen had realized that the people he contacted were the most knowledgeable and top-tier people in this world.

They called their borrowing of corpses to return to life “transmigration.”

Supposedly, long, long ago someone proposed time machines, parallel universes and such theories. Although no one had proven them, since they were proposed, it meant people were researching them. Perhaps someone knew how to return.

Fu Changrong himself felt somewhat confused. He both wanted to return and didn’t want to return.

The longer he stayed in this world, the more interested he became. He had so many things he wanted to learn, and these three months he’d been learning with great enjoyment.

Much knowledge—just going through it once, he could integrate it. He knew this was related to the original body having learned it before.

But after learning, he had more questions. For example, parallel spaces and time machines. If such phenomena and things truly existed and humans built them, couldn’t one go to whichever space-time they wished?

Thus, apart from this original space-time, wouldn’t other parallel space-times be thrown into chaos?

He’d always believed the Dao of Heaven was constant. A seemingly good thing might cause bad results, while a seemingly bad thing might achieve good outcomes.

But all these thoughts disappeared when facing Zhao Hanzhang’s tears and sorrow. Never mind, their return could be considered “correcting chaos and returning to the proper course.”

Fu Changrong’s hesitation had another reason: he wasn’t his relatives’ first choice. In Dajin, whether grandfather, father, or mother—they weren’t people who couldn’t function without him.

To them, his existence was dispensable.

So he somewhat envied Zhao Hezhen: “Although your days are difficult, whether your mother or brother, you’re the first person they rely on, the first person they choose. Even your grandfather cared greatly for you, paving a way forward for you.”

Unlike him.

The Fu family’s internal relationships had a feeling of “gentlemen’s friendship is as light as water.” Not only was his relationship with his parents distant and with grandfather unfamiliar, even his several uncles didn’t often interact with grandfather.

They scattered to different places, each serving as officials. As his grandfather said, “Each should live their own life well.” He devoted himself to the country, couldn’t care for his sons, and had no extra energy, so he basically didn’t require the children to do anything.

Except for his father.

But that was because his father Fu Xuan was the eldest son and also the Prince Consort, so grandfather was quite strict with him, hoping he and mother together would devote themselves utterly to Dajin, fulfilling a Prince Consort’s proper responsibilities.

Thinking about it sometimes, his father was quite pitiable.

He was also quite pitiable.

Mother had the same requirements of him, because he was the Emperor’s grandson, imperial kin, believing this was his duty.

Hmph, but he didn’t want to be Dajin’s imperial grandson at all.

His maternal grandfather was foolish and obtuse, his great-grandfather disregarded the state for private feelings. Not to mention what the ancestors did to the previous dynasty—those unjust and faithless acts. The education he received from childhood made him unable to accept it from the bottom of his heart.

So Fu Changrong was very rebellious. Combined with his distant relationship with his parents, unable to bear the arguments and pressure from them, he escaped Chang’an to return to Luoyang.

From Chang’an to Luoyang took less than five days on foot. He walked for nearly half a year. In that half year he saw all the world’s suffering. He couldn’t find his own path forward or the country’s path forward, once wanting to retreat into the mountains as a hermit.

But with devastation everywhere, the young Fu Changrong’s heart hadn’t completely cooled. Even though the path ahead was unclear, he still wanted to strive for this country, for himself, and for the common people.

So he gritted his teeth and walked toward Luoyang.

Now deciding to return, he had vaguely found the path forward.

“Since we’re returning, let’s learn more things and find the way to save the country,” Fu Changrong’s eyes grew brighter and brighter, full of ambition: “Who says that returning means we can only be fish and meat for others to slaughter? We have this strange fortune—we should forge ahead bravely, not only saving ourselves and family, but also saving the people of the world.”

Zhao Hezhen’s entire face lit up, her heartstrings plucked, calling out loudly: “Good!”

After deciding to return, the most precious thing for them was time.

Zhao Hezhen’s blindness ultimately affected her greatly. Learning things was much slower than Fu Tinghan, so they decided to spend heavily to accelerate the surgery process.

“Though utilitarian, this is reality. Nothing in the world can’t be achieved through exchange of interests. If there is, it’s either that the interests aren’t great enough, or what’s exchanged isn’t the interests they want.” Fu Changrong consolidated Fu Tinghan’s assets and had Shen Yan throw money outward.

The medical equipment they wanted to bring back was very valuable. Their own country’s customs had no problem at all—it was the customs of the other country that wouldn’t release it, blocking it at every审核 checkpoint.

Fu Changrong kept throwing money down, barely opening a crack. Combined with help from the consulate there, the other side finally released it. The medical equipment began loading onto ships.

Once the items were on the ship and entered international waters, the rest was much easier.

Shen Yan had already found a receiving hospital for them. This was also negotiated from the start—Fu Tinghan would donate the medical equipment to the hospital, the hospital would invite doctors and assemble an expert team to operate on Zhao Hanzhang, ensuring follow-up treatment.

And each year there would be a certain number of slots open for charity, providing treatment for poor, blind patients.

This was negotiated in the original contract. Besides the medical equipment, Fu Tinghan had also agreed to inject a sum annually into this project specifically for charity.

While Shen Yan threw money around for him, he clicked his tongue: “You’ve given too much for Zhao Hanzhang. Won’t you tell him any of this?”

Fu Changrong fell silent.

He had told Zhao Hezhen, but Zhao Hanzhang might never know. The two privately felt much regret for Fu Tinghan’s secret love, feeling fate had been unjust to them—the accident came too quickly.