The silence shattered as Auntie was the first to react, letting out a piercing shriek: "My son—!"
The couple scrambled into action, working in perfect sync to rescue their utterly uncooperative son from his makeshift noose. Auntie clutched her precious boy to her chest, weeping so hard her delicate frame trembled. Uncle Xu stood nearby, heaving long, world-weary sighs.
Xu Qi'an observed his cousin's soul-seemingly-vacated expression and felt nothing but empathy. After all, there were few things more mortifying in a young man's life than:
Being caught mid-"self-exploration" by one's parents.
Having your whispered commentary about a female teacher's ample proportions overheard—by said teacher.
Having your cringe-inducing, edgy teenage poetry exposed to the world.
Each scenario was potent enough to make a man wish the ground would swallow him whole.
Well, physiological death might've failed, but social death? Mission accomplished.
"A trained professional... wouldn't laugh..." Xu Qi'an muttered to himself, shoulders shaking. Xu Lingyue turned her head, shooting her elder brother a reproachful glare that plainly accused him of schadenfreude. Little Xu Linyin, who'd been about to pester her brother for sweets, wisely reconsidered upon witnessing the scene.
But Xu Xinnian—ever the quick-witted scholar—proved his mental agility once more. With a strategic roll of his eyes and a full-body twitch, he promptly feigned unconsciousness.
...
In the quiet courtyard belonging to Xu Qi'an, steam rose from the wooden bathtub in his chamber as he sank into the cool water, his well-honed Refined Essence Peak physique making the chill inconsequential. With the life-or-death crisis behind him, he could finally relax and ponder some philosophical questions about his new existence.
"Why don't I have any memories of the original host's death—or even the moments before he lost consciousness?"
Xu Qi'an vividly remembered his own demise—most likely alcohol poisoning. But the original owner of this body seemed to have left no such recollections.
As for himself, his downfall had been a classic case of celebrating too hard. After quitting the police force, he'd tried his hand at entrepreneurship, only to be swiftly humbled by reality. Swallowing his pride, he'd started from the bottom again, grinding away as a diligent corporate drone.
That night, he had marched out of his apartment with a triumphant laugh, gathering friends at a bar to toast his hard-won stability. A mortgage he could handle, betrothal gifts he could afford, a wife and kids in his future… As long as his neighbor wasn't surnamed Wang, life would be peaceful.
"Damn it!"
He slapped the water's surface, sending droplets flying. "I finally clawed my way into the middle class, only to get isekai'd into a feudal society. Talk about bad luck."
His bank account had held a solid 600,000 yuan—enough for a down payment on an apartment. "The cruelest tragedy isn't outliving your savings," he mused bitterly. "It's dying with money still in the bank."
Well, at least his parents would inherit it. "Hope the estate taxes aren't too brutal…"
A pang of regret hit him. "One more season and I could've hit King rank… I never got to see Attack on Titan's finale… And the national soccer team never won a damn thing—guess I can die mad about that. Oh well."
Then his eyes widened in horror.
"Wait—my 120GB 'waifu' folder! I forgot to delete it!"
If his parents found that, his social death would be absolute.
He drifted off without realizing it, waking only when dusk painted the sky. His skin had pruned from prolonged soaking, fingertips wrinkled like dried plums. Xu Qi'an changed into fresh clothes and stood before the bronze mirror, tying up his hair.
The reflection showed a young man's face—thick, dark brows framing sharp eyes, the angular jawline of someone who'd spent years honing his body through martial training.
"Not quite on par with my past life's looks that could shame Tony Leung, humble Louis Koo, or even alarm the Party with their sheer handsomeness... but passable, I suppose." He gave a grudging nod. At least this body was infinitely stronger than his previous one. Being a martial artist had its perks.
"Though that might not be entirely good. I'd have preferred transmigrating into a proper historical era—where everyone's equally weak. Here? Too many overpowered freaks around. Your head could be rolling before you even blink."
This world wasn't just home to demons and monsters; its cultivation systems were dizzyingly varied. Beyond the notoriously luck-based "Non-Champion" path of warriors like himself, there were spellcasters, Confucian scholars, Buddhist monks, Daoist priests, shamans, and even gu masters. Six centuries ago, when the Dafeng Dynasty was founded, the first Imperial Astronomer had standardized ranking systems for all these disciplines.
Xu Qi'an was stuck at the ninth rank of the Non-Champion path—Refined Essence. His uncle had reached the eighth rank's peak, Qi Refining, while the seventh rank involved Spirit Tempering. Beyond that, he had no clue.
Ironically, he knew more about the Imperial Astronomers' system—a flamboyant, state-exclusive practice whose sixth-rank alchemists had revolutionized daily life with their inventions.
Their ranks go: Ninth—Physician, Eighth—Aura Diviner, Seventh—Geomancer, Sixth—Alchemist... The higher tiers remained a mystery. As for other systems? Growing up in the capital hadn't granted him much insight.
A rustle of skirts interrupted his thoughts. A green-clad maiden entered the courtyard—Lü'e, his aunt's personal maid.
"Eldest Young Master, the master summons you for dinner." Though her voice carried relief, exhaustion lingered in her eyes. Sold to the Xu family at ten, she'd been dismissed during the crisis and had been agonizing over survival until—miraculously—the family's fortunes reversed within five days. Rumor had it this was all the Eldest Young Master's doing.
Now the eighteen-year-old maid stood before him with an odd mix of reverence and shyness.
"Uh, please don't call me 'Eldest Young Master'..." Xu Qi'an cringed.
"But you are the Eldest Young Master," Lü'e blinked, perplexed.
...Whatever. At least my surname isn't Wu.
As they walked toward the main house, Lü'e hesitated before whispering: "The master and madam were arguing earlier."
"Over what?"
"Madam kept demanding to know how the tax silver was swapped and who did it. When the master couldn't answer... well." She lowered her voice further. "You already know about that, right?"
During their return, Xu Qi'an had explained to his uncle that the tax funds hadn't been stolen—but substituted. His aunt had stayed silent then. Apparently, she'd been stewing over it ever since.
...
The moment Xu Qi'an stepped into the inner hall, an ear-piercing wail assaulted his eardrums. There stood little Xu Linyin, with her tiny arms stretched backward to counterbalance her forward-leaning posture. She tilted her head up like a battle horn and unleashed a devastating sonic attack toward her mother at full volume.
Uncle Xu calmly sipped his wine, Xu Lingyue kept her head down as she ate, and Xu Xinnian—still reeling from his shattered dignity—chewed his food in silence.
Auntie massaged her temples with a pained expression. When Lü'e approached, she immediately waved her hand. "Take her away, take her away!"
Xu Qi'an glanced at his wailing little sister and asked gently, "What's wrong?"
"Mommy lied! Mommy said if we could go home, she'd take me to Moon Osmanthus Pavilion!" The tiny bean sprout sobbed dramatically. "Daddy just mentioned Moon Osmanthus Pavilion!"
Moon Osmanthus Pavilion was one of the capital's most exclusive restaurants, catering only to nobility and high-ranking officials—commoners and wealthy merchants weren't even allowed through the door.
For a child who couldn't even remember her siblings' names, recalling this particular establishment was impressive—mainly because she'd been there once before.
Proof that this kid isn't stupid—just that all her brain cells are dedicated to food.
Xu Qi'an shot a look at his uncle, who was sipping wine with an air of practiced innocence, and then at Auntie, who looked like she was fighting off a migraine.
Well played, Uncle Xu. Using your own daughter as a distraction.
"It was just something I said in the moment—we were in such dire straits back then..." Auntie sighed.
"Even children you deceive, Auntie. How faithless." Xu Qi'an couldn't resist needling her, earning a glare as the beautiful matron's chest heaved in indignation.
"Big Brother! Big Brother, take me!" Seeing Xu Qi'an taking her side, the little bean sprout immediately switched allegiance, scampering over to cling to his leg like a determined little monkey.
Moon Osmanthus Pavilion... where a single meal costs at least a tael per person...
Xu Qi'an's expression darkened. "Lü'e, take her away!"
The little menace was promptly removed.
Auntie kicked her husband under the table and subtly jerked her chin toward Xu Qi'an.
Xu Pingzhi hesitated, embarrassed. He glanced at his usually inquisitive son—but Xu Xinnian was still socially deceased, leaving him no backup.
The food was mediocre, lacking the rich broths they were used to—understandable, given they'd only just returned home. Xu Qi'an chewed listlessly before finally snapping at his sister.
"Lingyue, why do you keep sneaking glances at me?"