Lu Zigan played with the jade material in his left palm, pondered for a moment, then picked up his brush to draw withered leaves on the jade. Each leaf was drawn precisely on the brown Hetian jade seed material’s preserved skin. Though just a few strokes, the desolate meaning of autumn wind immediately filled the entire piece of jade.

After finishing the withered leaves, Lu Zigan paused for a moment, lifting his brush several times and lowering it again, ultimately not putting it to jade.

He unconsciously picked up the cutting knife beside him, aimed it at the jade in his hand, and applied slight pressure. The knife tip cut through the jade material like cutting tofu.

Since thousands of years ago, jade craftsmen’s tools had been a type of grinding machine commonly called a water bench. The grinding wheel was a disc-shaped object that, when rotated, used this uniform friction to carve jade. Though over thousands of years the method of driving the grinding machine had improved from manual to electric power, jade craftsmen still used grinding machines of various sizes to carve jade—all except Lu Zigan.

His cutting knife, lacking the companion file knife for rough work, could only carve small jade pieces, but with greater precision.

In this life, he had never learned any carving techniques, but since his previous life’s memories returned, whenever he held the cutting knife, his entire body seemed to have autonomous consciousness. At first there was some rustiness, but after working on dozens of pieces of jade, his touch became increasingly refined. He even felt uncomfortable every moment he wasn’t holding a piece of jade in his palm.

Withered yellow curled leaves appeared one by one under the cutting knife’s carving. Lu Zigan then continued carving entirely by feel without even sketching.

The Changxin Palace lamp in Mute House flickered brightly, yet was exceptionally luminous, not hindering Lu Zigan’s jade-carving vision at all. Soon, beneath the scattering withered leaves, appeared a corner of an ancient-style building. A long bead curtain hung down, and below the curtain showed a pale, slender hand, touching the railing with infinite melancholy. Above the bead curtain seemed to hang several traces of clear, secluded frost.

Though only the silhouette of a hand, it still drew one’s gaze irresistibly, making one long to lift the bead curtain and see what captivating beauty lay hidden behind.

Lu Zigan brushed away the jade shavings, stared intently for a long while, then turned the jade over and carved Wang Changling’s poem “Autumn Words at Changxin Palace”: “Golden well, plane tree, autumn leaves yellow; bead curtains not rolled up, night brings frost. Incense burner, jade pillow, colorless now; lying, listening to Southern Palace’s long night watch.”

The cutting knife was extremely sharp, but Lu Zigan wrote these twenty-eight characters with graceful beauty, lingering and flowing, then habitually signed with a “Zigan” mark at the end.

Lu Zigan stared blankly at this freshly completed jade piece for a while. Though unpolished after carving, under the yellow lamplight it reflected a weathered, obscure texture.

Smiling self-mockingly, Lu Zigan tossed this piece of jade into the bamboo basket under the counter, hearing a crisp sound of jade collision. That bamboo basket already contained more than half a basket of unpolished, semi-finished jade pieces—all practice works Lu Zigan had used to exercise his skills these past days. If anyone saw them, they would surely be impressed, perhaps even commenting that this jade craftsman’s imitation of Zigan-style pieces was quite excellent.

After washing his hands, cleaning and wiping the counter to remove jade dust, and cleaning the cutting knife before placing it in his sleeve, Lu Zigan finally picked up the longevity lock from the brocade cloth, closed his eyes to feel its patterns, and leaned back in his chair to rest.

He didn’t know how much time passed until the doctor entered with dinner. The aroma of steamed buns mixed with hospital disinfectant, carried on the cool autumn breeze, penetrated the incense of Mute House and struck him head-on.

“Today’s the day this month, right? Still have some time. Let’s eat quickly and hit the road.”

The doctor efficiently opened the food box, skillfully found his usual chopsticks from Mute House’s counter, picked up a steamed bun and began eating.

“Hit the road”—was that really appropriate to say here? Lu Zigan’s temple twitched twice, but he didn’t criticize the doctor’s careless words. After hanging the longevity lock around his neck, he silently devoured his box of steamed buns completely.

Both moved quickly. After the doctor took the food boxes out to dispose of them, he raised his hand to check his watch: “Do we need to wait a bit before leaving? Can I sleep a while? Today’s surgery lasted over eight hours—I’m exhausted.”

Lu Zigan watched the doctor sprawl ungracefully on the yellow rosewood reclining chair while talking, then said in a deep voice, “No sleeping. We need to change clothes this time.” He stood and walked toward Mute House’s inner room, soon returning with two sets of clothes and two wigs.

“Whoa! Playing cosplay? Is that necessary? We only stay briefly each time we travel through time. Why change outfits? Besides, aren’t we targeting a few months ago? How are you so certain we’ll end up hundreds of years or more in the past again?”

The doctor grumbled but didn’t refuse the costume change suggestion. Instead, he enthusiastically removed his casual wear and, under Lu Zigan’s guidance, put on the wide blue cloth straight-body robe.

“Even for a short time, we should be perfect. I don’t want to be stared at on the street like some crazy monster.” Lu Zigan complained half-seriously.

The doctor didn’t notice why Lu Zigan could so precisely predict what era they’d travel to, since each era’s clothing differed, and what Lu Zigan had given him was clearly mid-Ming Dynasty attire. The doctor only vaguely felt something strange, but before he could think deeply, he heard familiar bird calls and fighting sounds from Mute House’s inner room.

“San Qing and Ming Hong are fighting again?” The doctor grimaced with concern but showed no intention of rushing in to support his San Qing. What a joke—that was a battle between divine-level birds. If he, a mere mortal, rushed in, wouldn’t he be finished? “Where’s Hu Hai? Why doesn’t he come get his bird?”

“I don’t know either.” Lu Zigan put on his wig. Since Hu Hai said he’d come use the Luoshu Nine Stars Compass together next time, he hadn’t appeared again.

Ming Hong had flown to Mute House looking lost and forlorn a month ago, clearly separated from its master. Lu Zigan wasn’t a deity with Hu Hai’s contact information, so he could only care for Ming Hong. As for its willingness to fight with San Qing, he had specially cleared a separate room for them with nothing inside, letting them battle to their hearts’ content.

The doctor had initially worried greatly, but later discovered San Qing and Ming Hong were evenly matched—at most they’d each lose a few feathers. He became accustomed to it, even collecting their feathers to make shuttlecocks with Mute House’s copper coins.

With Lu Zigan’s help, the doctor put on his wig and donned a square flat cap, removed his glasses, and looked in the mirror—he really did have a scholarly feeling. After taking some selfies with his phone and posting them to social media to show off, the doctor noticed Lu Zigan staring blankly at the compass: “What’s wrong? Is there a problem with the compass?”

“Nothing.” Lu Zigan took a deep breath and silently adjusted the compass by a few notches.

The doctor didn’t suspect anything, set his phone aside (since tech products would completely malfunction due to magnetic fields after time travel—otherwise he’d really want to bring his phone to ancient times for photos as souvenirs). As usual, the doctor quietly complained while placing his hand on the compass together with Lu Zigan.

After familiar dizziness, the doctor first smelled an indescribably fresh scent of grass and trees that immediately revived his lungs, polluted by urban smog.

But before he could open his eyes to confirm where they were, he felt a great force strike his knees. He immediately lost his footing and fell into grass, with someone roughly pressing a blade against his back. The wig he’d just put on was yanked off, revealing their inch-long short hair.

The doctor struggled to open his eyes in the grass, unsurprisingly finding Lu Zigan in a similar predicament, both captured by several fully armed ancient soldiers. Lu Zigan’s compass had fallen to the ground and been confiscated by a soldier. The doctor was at a loss—if they couldn’t retrieve the compass, wouldn’t they be unable to return?

Just then, the doctor heard the soldier restraining him report loudly: “Report to Madam! Captured two Japanese pirate spies!”

As this shout ended, the doctor felt a shadow block the sun, falling over his head.

He struggled to raise his head and saw a heroic woman in military dress, holding a war spear with red tassels, looking down at them with sharp eyes.

The doctor rubbed his bruised knee while listening to Lu Zigan explain their origins to the armored woman. Lu Zigan’s speech tone and manner differed somewhat from modern Mandarin, like he had a strange accent, but the doctor could mostly understand, just surprised how fluently he spoke.

They hadn’t appeared in a bustling town like previous times, but in desolate wilderness. In the distance, he could see banners flying and smell traces of salty sea breeze.

The doctor couldn’t tell what era they were in, so he focused on the young woman conversing with Lu Zigan.

The woman appeared just over twenty, with bright eyes and fair skin, beautiful features, and standing about five-foot-seven. Her black military dress outlined her graceful figure. In modern times, she’d definitely be a sought-after model or star. Even without makeup now, her beauty couldn’t be concealed.

The doctor usually saw plenty of attractive women, but for such a young woman to lead a troop of soldiers made him look twice.

The surrounding soldiers immediately glared angrily at the doctor, instantly blocking his view with their bodies. The doctor quickly raised both hands to show he meant no harm.

Wang Ying also heard the commotion but only lifted her eyelids slightly, paying no mind.

These two people of unknown origin should, by convention, be thrown in prison for severe interrogation. But seeing their soft, white, powerless hands, and hearing one speak fluent Beijing-area official dialect, discussing capital affairs eloquently, then claiming to be from Suzhou and switching to the soft Wu dialect of the Jiangsu-Zhejiang region with perfect fluency, she lowered her guard somewhat.

However, Wang Ying didn’t believe them because of this. The coastal pirates now weren’t all Japanese. Since the court canceled tributary trade and implemented the sea ban, many Chinese willingly posed as Japanese pirates for maritime trade, building their own forces. Simply put, they were another form of mountain bandits, changing territory to become sea pirates. The court preferred self-deception, still using “Japanese pirates” as a blanket term.

But seeing these men’s short hair, Wang Ying pursed her lips—she’d never heard of pirates having shaving customs.

Just then, another troop of soldiers jogged over and respectfully saluted Wang Ying: “Madam, the General requests your presence.”

Wang Ying’s willow brows drew together, but she said nothing more, waving at Lu Zigan and the doctor: “Take them away.”

Though their spy suspicions weren’t cleared, their treatment improved considerably. Lu Zigan claimed the compass was for finding auspicious feng shui locations, and no one made difficulties, returning the compass to him.

Seeing this, the doctor quickly asked quietly: “How is it? When can we return?”

Lu Zigan walked while looking down at the compass, then smiled bitterly after a moment: “Probably damaged from the fall. The compass needle’s backward movement is quite slow. We might have to stay here for a while.”

“Stay for a while? Then what dynasty and place is this? Why is a woman leading troops? It doesn’t look like Mulan or the Yang family generals!”

Hearing the compass still worked but they needed to stay longer, the doctor wasn’t too worried and became curious about their era.

“Looking at these soldiers’ clothing—knee-length, narrow sleeves, cotton-filled interior, red color, also called red padded jackets—this is typical Ming Dynasty soldier attire. Moreover, they suspect us of being Japanese pirates, so this is likely the Jiajing period of the Ming Dynasty. Judging by their accents, this should be the Shandong area.” Lu Zigan’s comprehensive analysis of their time and location impressed the doctor greatly.

“Then guess who that woman is?”

The doctor pointed with his chin at the armored woman walking ahead. He didn’t believe Lu Zigan could be that prescient.

“Actually, it’s easy to guess.” Lu Zigan smiled slightly. “Qi Jiguang, courtesy name Yuanjing, was indeed from Shandong. At seventeen, following his father’s orders, he inherited the position of Assistant Commander of Dengzhou Guard—a proper fourth-rank official position, truly a high-ranking family’s son. His wife was also historically famous, daughter of a general, a tiger daughter from a military family. Legend says Madam Qi practiced martial arts from childhood, wielding spears and staffs. When angry, even Qi Yuanjing was no match for her.”

Since they were discussing someone behind their back, Lu Zigan kept his voice as low as possible, but he clearly saw Wang Ying’s steps slow slightly ahead.

“That formidable? You’re certain it’s her?”

That was the anti-piracy hero Qi Jiguang! Even if General Qi yielded to his wife, that was still terrifying… The doctor swallowed hard, feeling he was incredibly lucky to still be alive and intact.

“I just asked—it’s currently the thirty-third year of Jiajing. Qi Yuanjing is twenty-six and should already be Shandong Regional Military Commissioner, a proper third-rank military official, truly a regional governor. When we meet him, don’t rush up asking for autographs or anything—too embarrassing.” Lu Zigan warned uneasily, mainly because the doctor was unreliable.

“The way you talk…” The doctor looked sheepish, but suddenly paused: “Jiajing period, Lu Zi… that Lu Zigan was also from Jiajing period, wasn’t he?”

Lu Zigan’s hand holding the compass trembled, then he said calmly: “Ah, my previous life should have been executed two years ago.”

“What a coincidence…”

The doctor momentarily didn’t know what to say. He’d never considered his previous life related to himself, wouldn’t think of Fu Su as himself, so he kept things separate. Even when they traveled to the Warring States period, he felt no discomfort or desire to see Fu Su of that time. But Lu Zigan’s situation seemed somewhat different, though he couldn’t specify how.