Volume One: The New Eastern World in Focus Chapter 001: Transmigration Syndrome and Post-Stress Foot Therapy

Zhao Congjian was a somewhat straightforward yet introverted young man. Yearning for a nine-to-five job paired with a vibrant nightlife, he brought his dreams to the metropolis of Kun City, a first-tier hub of development in the country. This burgeoning coastal city welcomed youth from every corner of the land with open arms, swiftly capturing Zhao Congjian’s full attention and inspiring him to embrace his new life with unreserved passion—even at the cost of gradually abandoning his original values.

Yet, three months later, the company that had initially hired him expelled him on the grounds of poor performance during his probation. The HR lady, who had once greeted him with gentle words, stiletto heels, and professional attire, now appeared behind thick black-rimmed glasses, affecting a somber air as she and the department head solemnly informed him: “You have not passed your probationary evaluation!”

Such was the bewilderment of a young man stepping into society for the first time: he’d signed a year-long lease, so leaving now would only benefit the landlord, wouldn’t it? His late-night daydreams about the HR lady vanished without a trace. Refusing to admit defeat, Zhao Congjian cooled his head and recognized the external factor of the company exploiting cheap labor and his own naiveté in submitting his résumé—was he really relying on pure fabrication to survive in a strange city? Even in online games, one at least started with a pet dog!

He had been reckless…

That night, carrying his laptop bag, he wandered along the coastal boulevard, letting the southern breeze soothe him. The graceful figures and gentle smiles of passing couples caught his eye, banishing any thought of despair. There were far too many wonderful connections in this world yet to be made.

With a quiet resolve, this late-blooming bachelor determined to use his job-hunting period to make up for the broad social knowledge he had neglected in school, preparing himself thoroughly to remain in Kun City. After all, this was the most youth-friendly metropolis for the wandering young generation; besides, modern society demanded that the “working class must be lifelong learners” in the twenty-first century!

On his way back to the apartment complex, seizing the moment when no one was around, Zhao Congjian slipped into a nearby adult store and, breaking his usual restraint, bought himself an onanism device. That very night, in the midst of a liberating dream, he delved into the connections between literature, history, philosophy, and economics, extending his post-pleasure clarity and crafting a high-quality reading list for himself—the foremost being “Records of the Grand Historian.” A classic recommended by his former boss could not be wrong! The author of this tome, forced into celibacy and devoting all his energy after work to writing a grand study of human nature, must surely help Zhao understand the rational, data-driven essence of this society.

In the weeks that followed, Zhao spent his days deciding whether to attend interviews and, if not, studying accessible economics and finance lectures online. After sunset, he would indulge his soul, bathe, scrub himself clean, and then hungrily devour “Records of the Grand Historian.” This routine persisted until the thirteenth weekend.

On that idle day, with no interviews in sight, Zhao indulged himself, spending the whole day indoors and enjoying triple his usual pleasure, until he dozed off under the harsh white light. Sleepiness overtook him as he slumped onto the final page of the “House of Zhao” chapter. In this slumber, his mind drifted to memories of his high school classroom, the natural beauty of local school belles untarnished by modern trends, and the stern new class teacher who had fled the northern megacities. A piece of chalk struck his face, snapping him awake.

What was this? The HR lady, dressed in ancient maidservant garb, was wiping his face with freshly ironed linen?

What in the world was happening? Had his company discovered his secret move for labor arbitration and arranged an “immersive experience script” for him to play out?

Glancing aside, he saw a maidservant holding a copper basin who bore a striking resemblance to the administrative supervisor who doubled as the front desk. Her acting was impeccable! The large, heavy, round, and glittering basin sat steady in her slender hands—who’d have thought this usually aloof, delicate woman could humble herself so? Was she sneaking off to yoga for strength training? The thought made Zhao Congjian nearly snort in amusement.

Without further ado, he resolved to accept all compensation offered—adults don’t make choices; today he would have it all.

Just then, a sudden wail startled him: “Young master, please restrain your grief! Zhao may yet be restored! Your Highness, do not laugh so foolishly!”

Wait—a department leader, infamous for manipulating him daily, was here too! How could he behave as he wished now? Looking over, he found the supervisor, dressed as a eunuch, standing just behind the curtain.

Thank goodness he hadn’t undressed yet, or he would’ve been caught red-handed! Zhao quickly withdrew his wandering hand, only to bump it heavily against the couch. Ouch!

At once, a chorus of “Please calm yourself, young master!” echoed through the room. Looking at the trio all kneeling with practiced ease, Zhao’s mind was seized by the deliciously wicked notion that life as a boss was truly eventful. Yet reality quickly sobered him—wasn’t his current situation just the result of being discarded by a bored executive, allowed only an occasional turn at role-play? His delight faded by half.

“Where am I? Shouldn’t the boss be making an appearance now?” Zhao tried to steady himself and demanded sternly, “Show yourself!” But the three remained prostrate, neither daring to look up nor reply. The eunuch-like supervisor, ever smooth and composed, finally broke the silence: “Young master, this is Dai Prefecture. You have been resting for half a day. Soon it will be time for soup and noodles, and to meet with the noble clans.”

What? Dai Prefecture—wasn’t that the setting from the last page of the “House of Zhao” he’d just read? Had the company gone to such lengths for this experience? Surely the boss was overestimating his importance. Even more bizarre, his own voice had not yet broken, while his supervisor’s truly sounded like a eunuch’s.

Lost in thought, sweat still clinging to his brow, the faint scent of herbal towels wafting through the air, Zhao recalled the final lines from the book: “When Qin captured and relocated the people, the exiled nobles made Jia king. Jia ruled Dai for six years; then Qin attacked and defeated him, annexing Zhao as a commandery.”

Looking again at the HR and administrative cosplayers, beneath light makeup their youth and innocence shone through; they lacked the seasoned, calculating air of their real-world counterparts.

If he really had transmigrated, his life expectancy was barely five years, and he hadn’t even reached puberty. Worse, he would have to lead troops in person to inspire them and claim the throne for any length of time; after accounting for time spent camping and recovering from wounds, and considering the limited resources of Dai Prefecture, the window for indulgence was even narrower—one look around confirmed this palace was far from opulent, likely the best that could be afforded here.

“Though the state of Zhao shares my surname and could be considered my motherland, must the need for perseverance be so great? To finally transmigrate into a king, with no time for pleasure, only to find oneself in the body of a child untouched by life—this is unspeakably tragic!” Zhao silently recited the Three Character Classic in his frustration, bemoaning the impossibility of the legendary pleasures, then bent to retrieve the towel the maid had dropped, soaking it in the basin for his face.

“You must not, young master!” the three attendants cried out in unison.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“The body of a prince is precious—how can you lower yourself to a servant’s task?”

“It’s nothing,” Zhao replied, half in resignation. “Isn’t it the modern way to do things yourself?” He wrung out the cloth and pressed it to his face.

“Your Highness, I…I’ll go prepare your soup and noodles at once!” The eunuch attendant couldn’t hold back his tears. For so long, serving King Qian in Handan’s palace, he’d rarely seen this once-disgraced crown prince, nor expected such approachable manners from a royal after serving two generations. Now, entrusted to serve the young Prince Jia, hope for Zhao’s restoration was rekindled.

His abrupt departure, without awaiting the prince’s permission, harbored a secret motive: to further observe if this Prince Jia he’d helped smuggle from the palace was truly as pragmatic and kind as he seemed. After all, certain noble families were already plotting to poison the former crown prince in favor of an older, more distant relative.

All of this was far beyond the newly transmigrated Zhao Congjian’s knowledge. By instinctively reining in his behavior and acting with the modern directness of a “new Prince Jia,” he had unwittingly saved his own life.

Watching the eunuch leave in inexplicable tears, Zhao was left at a loss. Tossing the towel back into the basin, he wandered to the door, gazing at the small courtyard and feeling the unique mountain breeze of Dai Prefecture. He steadied himself: “Since I’m here, I might as well settle in.”

The two maids quietly got up and prepared to leave with the basin, only to be stopped by Zhao’s outstretched hand and a look of excitement: “My legs are weak—how about you two beauties give me a foot bath?” Flustered but delighted, they nodded and were about to fetch a wooden bucket, but Zhao waved them off: “This copper basin and towel will do just fine.”

Then, for the first time, his bachelor’s soul boldly commanded his mind: put your arms around their waists! All three faces flushed, and together they sat at the bedside, feet tingling with delight. As two pairs of fair feet soaked in warm water and were gently massaged, Zhao’s sense of happiness soared from his soles to the top of his head.

“Who’d have thought my first ever professional foot massage would be in pre-feudal times!” Zhao rapidly succumbed to decadence, unable to help but praise the wonders of a stratified society.