Volume One, Chapter One: The Way of Survival

Within the capital, there was a bustle that reached its peak.

The Marquis of the Northern Frontier had returned victorious, and the formidable General Xu Zhong, whose very name cowed the barbarian tribes at the northern border, had laid down arms just half a month prior. The Xu family, heads of the House of the Northern Frontier Marquis, were now ennobled as a family of distinguished merit.

His son, Xu Cheng, was granted the title of heir and entered the Deer-chasing Academy to pursue his studies.

…

In a pavilion within the Deer-chasing Academy.

Xie Zheng’s eyes snapped open. He found himself in an unfamiliar place, testing his arms and senses—everything seemed intact.

What was going on? Had he not been run over by a truck, his brain smashed to pulp in an accident? How could he possibly still be alive?

His body felt fine, but his clothing was completely different—no longer the attire he was used to, but rather the white robes of an ancient academy, embroidered with cloud motifs at the sleeves.

Could it be… he had transmigrated?

He glanced around. The surroundings bore the distinct air of an old-world courtyard. Several men, dressed as he was, looked at him with arrogant expressions. The one at their head curled his lips in disdain and spoke.

“Xie Zheng, let me make this clear: the Princess of Anyang will only ever be mine. Even if you die, you’ll never stand a chance!”

Xie Zheng was taken aback. Who was this Princess of Anyang?

In the next instant, memories surfaced in his mind.

The Princess of Anyang—beloved daughter of the Marquis of Anyang, the foremost beauty in the capital, the dream of every young nobleman.

Xie Zheng managed a nonchalant “oh,” looking up at the man as fragments of memory began to return.

This was Xu Cheng, heir to the Marquis of the Northern Frontier. The greatest sycophant in pursuit of the Princess of Anyang—vain, conceited.

As an author from the twenty-first century, Xie Zheng was no stranger to this tired old trope of “snatching the bride at the outset.” According to the classic narrative, he would soon awaken to some golden cheat, slap the faces of his enemies, and begin a life of wine, beauty, and power.

But as a sensible man, he knew full well that a modern soul, cast into the world of the ancients, stood little chance against those born to it.

If he wanted to live, he would have to keep his head down and endure.

The original owner of this body was the sixth prince of Daning, born to high station and destined to vie with his brothers for the throne. Yet in the struggle for succession, this useless prince had chosen to hide, disappointing the emperor greatly and falling to the lowest ranks of the royal family.

Xie Zheng, however, was unconcerned. History had proved that princes who fought for the throne did so at the risk of their lives. He cherished his own life, and saw the original’s lack of ambition as the wiser path.

As for the Princess of Anyang, of whom Xu Cheng made such mention—the original owner had been the second-greatest sycophant in her wake, a rival in love to Xu Cheng, which had sown the seeds of enmity between them.

Perhaps once, Xu Cheng had feared Xie Zheng’s royal status. But now, with his own family newly ennobled, Xu Cheng was more arrogant than ever. The Marquis had driven back the northern barbarians, and his family had been raised to the status of a household of merit. As heir to the marquis, Xu Cheng now stood nearly equal in rank to a prince—if not quite, then close enough, especially with a father famed as the “God of War of the Northern Frontier.”

Thus, Xie Zheng understood: to cross Xu Cheng was to cross the entire House of the Northern Frontier Marquis. With no power or influence of his own, his best course was to keep his head down.

So, with a tone full of flattery and resignation, Xie Zheng replied, “Since you’re so taken with her, Heir Xu, by all means—take her. It’s only a princess. If you wish, I can also offer you the thirty-six ladies of my own Spring Fragrance House.”

It was, after all, wise to pay respects to the local power before entering the mountain.

And the original owner was not without his talents—he had, in matters of debauchery, truly excelled. By establishing the Spring Fragrance House, he had cultivated a small empire of wealth and comfort for himself.

Xu Cheng, however, was displeased. He had come to humiliate, not to cooperate. Why did it feel as if Xie Zheng was simply handing the princess over, as if she had ever been his to give? Xu Cheng could not abide this, and said coldly, “I know you’ll never change, Xie Zheng. You’ve pined for the Princess of Anyang for years—how could you simply let her go?”

“Let me tell you: my father has already gone to propose a marriage to the Marquis of Anyang. Surely he won’t refuse such an alliance.”

“Soon, the princess and I will be inseparable—perfectly matched! Our children will be dragons among men!”

“Isn’t reality cruel?”

“But that’s just how I like it—watching you suffer as the woman you love is taken from you. That’s the most exquisite pleasure in the world!”

Xu Cheng’s twisted satisfaction was echoed by the jeers of the other students.

“Failing in the struggle for the throne is one thing, but can you really stand to watch your beloved stolen away?”

“If it were me, I’d have lost it long ago. Anyone dared steal my woman, I’d tear his whole family apart!”

“That’s right! Aren’t you a prince? Where’s your royal authority now? Shouldn’t you be making a scene, slapping the Heir across the face, making sure the whole city knows?”

The more outrageous their words became, the less Xu Cheng cared about their mockery.

After all, this was the outcome he desired. The more miserable Xie Zheng became, the happier he was. He longed for Xie Zheng to lose his temper for the sake of a woman, giving him the perfect excuse to beat him publicly. Afterwards, he could even sneer, “Your woman was really something!”

“So? Lost your nerve?”

“Want to hit me? Go ahead! My face is right here—try it if you dare!”

Xu Cheng was positively smug.

Was he a masochist? Xie Zheng wasn’t stupid—why not hit him, then?

He slapped Xu Cheng smartly across the face, then immediately put on an ingratiating smile—the very picture of a minor actor playing a sycophant, his expression saying, “We’re good brothers, you won’t mind, right?”

“Heir Xu, you and I are friends—the princess is yours. Do as you please; have as many children as you like, so long as you’re happy!”

But before the words had barely left his lips, a chill crept up Xie Zheng’s back.

Turning, he saw a devastatingly beautiful woman in academy robes approaching, her brow furrowed.

She slapped Xu Cheng across the face first, then turned to Xie Zheng and said,

“Who I, Qin Yuan, marry is not for you to decide!”

“Anyone who dares speak out of turn will be struck down on the spot by this princess!”