Heaven and earth are the inn for all things; time is the passing guest of a hundred generations. Life is but a fleeting dream—how much joy can one truly have?

Looking around and killing, leaving no one alive within ten steps; last night still a hundred miles away in the green hills, this morning already before the Luo River. Heading east, never to return, drinking and singing along the way—this is what they call romance.

Everyone has their own life. Even if you return to the world of the Twin Dragons of the Tang Dynasty, there’s no need to follow in their footsteps—just treat them as passersby.

A world fit for survival can only be created by oneself.

Last Will

(1) After my death, please cremate me as soon as possible and handle everything quietly. I’ve already troubled everyone enough in life, so let everything be simple after death.

(2) My belongings have already been sorted. On the bedside cabinet, except for a magazine that belongs to Nurse Brooks, everything else is mine. If you don’t need them, just throw them away. Only the set of “Twin Dragons of the Tang Dynasty”—I’ve read it over ten times, it has accompanied me through many moments—please cremate it with me.

(3) On the bookshelf at home, my books and clothes are to be handled by my parents. Any clothes in the wardrobe can be thrown away directly; as for the books, please deal with them as you see fit.

Although I still want to live, that is just a vain hope. Sick for years, my parents have cared for me with all their hearts. Both are devout Buddhists, reciting scriptures for me every day, but I am already at the end of my strength. Whenever I think of it, my heart aches as if cut by a knife. Mom, Dad, I can no longer repay you.

If there is a next life, I will surely live long.

Grace Bolton's final words

January 5, 2008

Chapter One: Awakening (Part One)

In the dream, blades flashed and swords clashed, the cold edge of a sword chilling the skin, blood splattering. A middle-aged woman struggled to drive back the enemy, the pursuit continuing, and in the river, a gaze lingered, unwavering.

No need to be told—he understood. This was a secret technique, burning one’s life as the price to gain power beyond ordinary people. He fell into the water and saw his mother’s final look—a resolve to give her life for her child. In that instant, his hatred for the woman in white became so deep that not even all the waters of the world could wash it away.

Grace Bolton suddenly sat up in bed, his heart surging, gasping for breath.

After a long while, he finally let out a sigh of relief. “So it was just a dream!”

It’s been half a month since he was reborn in this world. The body he now inhabited was only about fourteen years old, and around him was a simple room, not large, with just a few tables and chairs.

“Ah, it’s almost dawn, time to get up, or the boss will scold us.”

There was another boy on the bed, also awakened. He opened his eyes, saw that it was already getting light outside, and quickly began to get dressed.

Seeing him still dazed, the boy said, “Aren’t you getting dressed? You were saved from the river by Mrs. Clark, don’t embarrass her. The boss is nice, but the boss’s wife loves to find fault with her!”

This was Henry Cooper, also fourteen, an apprentice hired by the boss.

Grace Bolton snapped out of his memories, gave up on pursuing the lingering memories of this body, wanted to reply but didn’t know where to start, so he got up and dressed as well.

Leaving the small room, they entered the outer hall. Though the two of them got up early, there was already someone outside—a young woman, who by modern standards looked about seventeen or eighteen, dressed in coarse clothes, yet with a hint of beauty, already busy with chores.

“Good morning, Mrs. Clark!”

“Little Zhang, little Cui, good, you’re here. Hurry and get ready to open up!” Mrs. Clark's maiden name was He, a commoner in the city, and the debt owed was only twenty taels of silver—the owner of this shop, Mr. Harris, hired her not only because she was pretty, but also because he needed a trustworthy helper.

Responding, they grabbed some coarse cloth and busied themselves wiping down all the tables and chairs. Then they took the buns prepared the night before and placed them one by one in the steamer, lit the fire, and started cooking.

As the firelight shone on the buns and steam began to rise, the aroma of the buns started to waft out. From inside came a voice, and then someone said with satisfaction, “Hmm, almost done? Very good, very diligent. Come, have some porridge first. After you finish, open the shop.”

“Good morning, boss!” Grace Bolton didn’t need to look to know it was the boss and his wife coming out. He hurried forward and wiped a table again—even though it was already spotless—just to make the boss feel at ease.

Then he served two bowls of rice porridge and a plate of pickles for the breakfast of Mr. Harris and his wife. The boss nodded in satisfaction, but the boss’s wife just snorted.

If it weren’t for the fact that Mrs. Clark had saved him half a month ago, and that he was not yet fifteen, the boss’s wife would have found an excuse to make trouble long ago. Although Grace Bolton worked diligently, she just didn’t like him.

The aroma of buns gradually filled the room, masking the inevitable smell of smoke from the firewood.

“You eat too, there’s still work to do later!” the boss said to Mrs. Clark. Men always like young and beautiful women, and this concubine pleased him greatly. Besides, his main wife hadn’t had a child in four years, so he hoped this concubine would give him a son. “And you two, hurry up and finish your porridge, then open up for business!”