Chapter Four: The Library

To read? The Young Master actually wants to read? How could that be?

"Young Master, you are going to scare me to death!"
"This absolutely must not happen!"
"You... you should just go back to fighting crickets. The Old Mistress can only rest easy when she sees you playing with your crickets."
"As for reading..."

Cuihong thought to herself, You can barely recognize a few characters, what books are you going to read?
"Let's just forget about reading; it’s too taxing on the mind."

Chen Xiaofu’s slender eyebrows arched slightly, and his lips curled into a faint smile. He withdrew his gaze and let it fall upon the tray.
A bowl of bird’s nest soup.
A bowl of porridge.
A boiled egg.
And two small side dishes.

He was a bit hungry. Eating had to come first.
As Chen Xiaofu ate, Cuihong stood behind him, still stunned by his previous remark. The Young Master had once thrown himself from the third floor of the library to his death just to avoid being forced to read! Thankfully, he was blessed with deep good fortune; despite the many physicians in Lin'an City declaring him dead, he had somehow come back to life on his own.

The Old Mistress always said that being alive was the greatest blessing.
Jian’an... he had already achieved a modest prosperity; to ask for anything more would be a grave sin. Yet now, the Young Master actually claimed he disliked crickets and wanted to read!

Cuihong felt another surge of panic. It seemed the Young Master’s brain had developed a problem. She would have to report this to the Old Mistress and the Old Master later.

"Are you full? Dr. Zhang said the diet should be light, and seven-tenths full is enough."
"Hmm. Tomorrow morning, add another egg to my breakfast."
"…Very well."

Cuihong cleared the dishes and turned to leave, but she stopped and looked back, saying, "Young Master, how about I call a theater troupe to perform for you later?"
Chen Xiaofu waved his hand. "No need. Go about your business; I will sit for a while longer."
"…Very well."

Cuihong walked away, and Chen Xiaofu began to organize his memories once more. There wasn't much useful information, but he could be certain that this was not a dynasty from the world he was familiar with. Although it was called the Great Zhou Dynasty, it was not the world of the Ji clan; naturally, there were no King Wen of Zhou, Ji Chang, or King Wu of Zhou, Ji Fa.

It belonged to Her Imperial Majesty!
The Empress’s surname was Zhou, and the dynasty had been founded only sixteen years ago. Beyond that, there was nothing left in the original owner's memories.

Chen Xiaofu stood up, turned around, and left the pavilion.

He had not yet adapted to this frail body, so he walked rather slowly. He passed the screen wall and crossed the moon gate. Everything remained silent. Following the impression in his mind of the library, he exited the gate of the South Courtyard.

To the left of the main gate was a side room, the residence of Old Huang, the gatekeeper. Under the eaves of the room sat a table and a chair. In his memories, Old Huang spent almost all day lying in that chair, sipping wine with peanuts while staring vacantly at the distant sky with dull eyes. This was the case through all four seasons. No one knew what he was looking at or thinking about. He was a reclusive man who had almost no interaction with the original owner. He seemed to be merely fulfilling his duty as a gatekeeper, yet it now appeared that his status in the Flower Creek Villa was quite high, and he was not as indifferent toward him as he had presented.

There was no one in the chair; it was unclear where he had gone today. Chen Xiaofu did not dwell on it and turned to head toward the North Courtyard.

Not long after, Old Master Chen Linyuan and the Old Mistress arrived at the South Courtyard. In an instant, the South Courtyard was in an uproar.
"Where is Jian’an?"
"Cuihong, where has Jian’an gone?"
"Quick, call the servants to search! Look in the lotus pond—could he have sought death again?"

Half an hour passed, and dozens of servants had turned the South Courtyard upside down, yet there was still no sign of Chen Xiaofu. The Old Mistress’s face turned deathly pale as she stared fixedly at Cuihong. Cuihong fell to her knees with a thud, sweating profusely.

A moment later, she suddenly raised her head. "Old Mistress, the Young Master... he might have gone to the library."
The Old Mistress was startled. "Why would he go to the library?"
"…The Young Master said he wanted to read some books."

The library was located in the North Courtyard of Flower Creek Villa and stood three stories high. Gazing at the flying eaves of the building, Chen Xiaofu stepped inside. Although the Flower Creek Villa was large and had many servants, the true masters here were the Old Mistress and himself, the illegitimate son. Perhaps because the Old Mistress had held some expectations for her grandson when he was born, she had built this library in the North Courtyard when the villa was constructed. As for where the books inside came from, his memory held no answers, only that there was a vast collection. What exactly was in them... his memory was blank.

Entering the first floor, he found bookshelves neatly arranged in a circle, with a low table and a meditation cushion in the center. He walked slowly around the shelves, pausing occasionally to pull out a book and flip through it. A look of confusion gradually grew on his handsome face.

After browsing for half an hour, the lines between his brows eased slightly. The characters—some books used Small Seal script, others used Clerical script, and some used Regular script. Two of the newer books even contained traces of Cursive script. He could read all of these characters!

He had already spotted a copy of the *Classic of Poetry* on the first floor. He remembered that the *Classic of Poetry* originally contained 311 pieces, but six were only titles without text, leaving 305 actual poems. However, when Chen Xiaofu flipped to the last page, this copy had only 124 pieces. It was clearly an incomplete edition. This was enough to prove that the culture of this world was similar, perhaps even identical, to his previous life. He wondered where the deviation had occurred.

Thinking this, he headed up to the second floor. He looked at the bookshelves there but did not approach them. He suddenly remembered that the letter was on the third floor. Yes, he would go to the third floor first.

He climbed the stairs and reached the third level. The layout was the same as below, except this floor had an extra desk and chair near the window. He stood before the desk and let his gaze fall upon it. The original owner had stood on this very desk before jumping out of that window.

He had hesitated when he jumped.
He had hesitated for only five breaths.
During those five breaths, the original owner's heart had been filled with joy. He had even whispered to himself, "Mother, I am coming to keep you company!"
He had also looked at the letter and said a few words:
"Xiaowei, I have thought about it carefully. Even if we were to marry, you would have no happiness, and I would find no joy living in your shadow."
"It is better to die."
"You will have your freedom, and I will have... my release!"

Chen Xiaofu’s eyebrows lifted slightly. What a kind-hearted youth. Yet, he did not identify with such kindness. He persisted in his own belief: one cannot choose their birth, but one can determine the path of their future. In his previous life, born in a small mountain village deep in the wilderness, he had walked his way out step by step. He had walked into Tsinghua University, and then into the military. From holding a pen to holding a rifle. From the bustling metropolis to the frontiers of his motherland.

Sunlight from the window fell upon Chen Xiaofu’s face, and the expression on his still-pale features grew firm. All things in the past were merely a prologue. The honors of his previous life had nothing to do with the present. In this life, he would live in the way he desired.

He sat down and picked up the letter that still lay on the table. On the envelope was a line of delicate handwriting:
*For Chen Xiaofu to open personally.*

He took out the letter paper and unfolded it. There was a faint scent of ink, and a faint fragrance of flowers.