Chapter Three: I Want to Read a Book

April 26, the sixteenth year of the Feng calendar.

In Lin’an, located in the southern region of the Great Zhou Dynasty, summer had already arrived.

This was the thirteenth day since Chen Xiaofu came into this world.

The wound on the top of his head had completely healed, but the tuft of hair that the physician had cut off remained short, making it somewhat conspicuous and even a bit comical when viewed from above.

It was ill-suited to his otherwise fair, refined, and delicate face.

Therefore, when Cuihong was arranging his hair, she braided a small section of the surrounding long hair atop his head into a bun.

She secured it with a peachwood hairpin, perfectly concealing the flaw of the short tuft, making the young man in the bronze mirror look neat, sharp, and quite handsome.

Chen Xiaofu, touching his delicate face, did not particularly like it.

It looked a bit effeminate.

He needed to tan a little to showcase masculine vigor.

His constitution was inherently weak, and after lying in bed for over ten days, he felt a bit unsteady stepping out of his room.

He needed to exercise; everything else was superficial—only a strong body truly belonged to him.

In fact, he had already seen this garden before.

When he first arrived, he had looked around.

It was vast and beautiful.

The garden covered roughly three to five acres, filled with exotic flowers and plants, artificial hills, lotus ponds, as well as small bridges and pavilions.

It bore a striking resemblance to the Su Garden he had seen in his previous life, both epitomizing exquisite elegance.

Walking slowly along the bluestone-paved path, there were flower beds on both sides, fragrant scents wafting, with butterflies fluttering gracefully.

The back garden was very quiet—

The matriarch had long since decreed that the young master needed to rest quietly. Apart from Cuihong and Old Huang, no servants were allowed to enter the southern courtyard.

Cuihong was his personal maid.

Old Huang...

Old Huang was the gatekeeper of the southern courtyard of the Huaxi Villa.

He was a scruffy, fifty-something-year-old man with a limp and a beard, known for his drinking.

Apparently, besides the matriarch and the old master, he was one of the few people here who cared deeply for Chen Xiaofu.

Because in these thirteen days since Chen Xiaofu awoke, Old Huang had visited his room thirteen times!

Only on the first day did he come in the evening with Cuihong.

The other twelve visits were all secretive, late at night.

He thought Chen Xiaofu was asleep, unaware that Chen Xiaofu was only pretending.

His internal clock had not adjusted yet.

Through the slitted eyes, aided by the bright moonlight outside the window, Chen Xiaofu could see a trace of warmth in Old Huang’s somewhat cloudy eyes.

During those thirteen days, Old Huang did not drink a single drop of alcohol.

On the thirteenth day—last night—Old Huang leaned on his cane beside the bed and muttered a cryptic phrase:

“Ah... is this a blessing or a curse? Whatever it is, you need to learn some martial arts to defend yourself.”

What did he mean by blessing or curse?

Chen Xiaofu thought it was a blessing to be alive, but Old Huang’s words seemed to carry a deeper meaning. Could it be that the Divine General’s Residence in the imperial capital feared Chen Xiaofu, now grown, might compete with their son for the estate’s inheritance and thus meant him harm?

Martial arts?

The original owner had no memory of martial arts, only of crickets, ants, and the pale ankles of Lin’an girls in long skirts.

Chen Xiaofu was both curious and somewhat hopeful about martial arts; invulnerability was obviously impossible, and lightness skills even less so.

But since he had already crossed into this world, the notion of science itself seemed unreliable.

If Old Huang came again tonight, he would have to ask him about martial arts.

As for potential dangers from the imperial capital, he would indeed need to be cautious.

Just as these thoughts crossed his mind, a sharp “Ah!” sounded ahead.

Looking up, he saw Cuihong in a pale green long dress, carrying a tray as she emerged from behind the screen wall.

Her voice bore a hint of reproach:

“Young master, the matriarch said you must rest indoors!”

Chen Xiaofu smiled faintly.

That smile caught a ray of morning sunlight that fell upon his face.

Suddenly, the smile gained warmth and color.

The warmth was a little intense, the colors vibrant and splendid.

This caused Cuihong to freeze momentarily.

Then she was stunned—

The young master rarely smiled.

Even when he did, it was forced.

Cuihong knew it was because after learning he was a child born out of wedlock, all his hopes, expectations, and fantasies had been shattered—perhaps despair, or a deep-seated inferiority.

In all the years since she had entered Huaxi Villa at age five to serve him, she had seldom seen him genuinely smile.

Especially not a truly joyful smile.

But now, she saw it.

That handsome face blossomed like the flowers in the courtyard.

No!

In that instant, Cuihong felt the young master’s smile outshone every flower in the garden.

So much so that after a few lingering breaths, she shyly lowered her head.

“Young master,”

“Ah, servant here.”

Cuihong looked up; Chen Xiaofu stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the vibrant red sunrise cresting the eastern rooftops.

She was struck with awe again!

The young master wore pure white robes, whiter than snow.

His long hair fell to his shoulders.

He straightened his back—as stiff as the pillar in the corridor, sturdier than the green pine in front of the mountain temple on the hill!

The young master... reborn, seemed changed!

Could it be that he had seen through life and death, accepted his status as an illegitimate child, and faced it calmly?

She recalled accompanying the matriarch to that temple to make a wish.

The matriarch had prayed only for the young master’s lifelong safety.

The old Taoist said... the young master’s name was not Chen Ping’an.

He was Chen Xiaofu; if all was taken calmly, Xiaofu would be safe!

If all was taken to heart, his fate was fraught with misfortune!

Cuihong did not understand, especially the word “all.”

The matriarch fell silent for a moment, as if she understood, then descended the mountain and never returned to that dilapidated temple.

“My bones feel loose from lying down so long. I want to go out for a walk.”

Chen Xiaofu’s words snapped Cuihong from her wandering thoughts. She immediately sobered and shook her head decisively.

“The matriarch’s orders cannot be disobeyed. Young master, you have just recovered from a serious illness. When Divine Doctor Zhang came yesterday, he also advised that you should not be exposed to wind these days.”

Lowering her gaze, Cuihong carried the tray toward the lotus pond pavilion in the back garden.

“Just walk around this courtyard.”

Placing the tray on the stone table inside the pavilion, Cuihong turned and hurried back to Chen Xiaofu.

“I will support you. Have some breakfast here. When you’re fully recovered, I will accompany you outside for a walk...”

Supporting Chen Xiaofu toward the pavilion, she thought for a moment and added:

“If young master feels lonely, the few big generals, Er Gouzi, are still here for you. They are well cared for. I will bring them to you for play in a while, how about that?”

She expected the young master to nod happily, but instead, he shook his head.

“Tell Er Gouzi to set them free.”

Cuihong was stunned.

“…But they are your beloved companions!”

Chen Xiaofu waved his hand, stepped into the pavilion, and sat down, flicking his robe’s hem.

“The young master no longer likes those things.”

Cuihong was dumbfounded.

“Then, what does young master like now?”

Chen Xiaofu pondered for three breaths, then suddenly turned to Cuihong, his smile blooming like a flower again:

“I want to read books.”

Chen Xiaofu truly wanted to visit the library.

Firstly, the original owner’s knowledge was too scant; he needed books to understand this world.

Secondly... the letter from his fiancée, An Xiaowei, was still in the library. He wanted to see what this fiancée had written.

Cuihong was startled.

Her body trembled, her small mouth suddenly agape.

The sky was clear and bright.

Yet what she felt was... a thunderclap on a sunny day!