“Ah, go get some sleep.” Grace Bolton said. This was allowed, because if you went by modern time, you’d have to work until ten at night and get up at four in the morning—definitely not enough sleep.

At that, Grace Bolton stopped thinking, lay back down on his small bed, and paid no more attention to the sounds around him.

Consciously or not, he noticed some noises and sneered inwardly. He began to experiment, slowly adjusting his breathing according to the fragments of memory he’d recovered, to nurture himself.

With each breath, a warm current slowly formed in his abdomen. It was faint, yet unmistakable. He’d only practiced this breathing technique from his memories for three days, and already the effect was obvious.

This couldn’t be his own talent, but rather the foundation of this body!

“Inner energy has formed. From now on, it’s just a matter of consolidating and cultivating it.” Grace Bolton thought to himself. Coming to this world, not knowing where he was or if any of this was real, these things nonetheless quickly pulled him out of the loneliness and sense of alienation that comes with having nothing and no one.

It was like clutching at a straw while drowning. A few days ago, he’d recovered the basic method for circulating inner energy from his memories. Without hesitation, he began to train, unafraid of the risk of going astray.

That’s why he was willing to work here as a helper—because he believed that if he endured a little longer, he’d soon have the power to change his fate.

Chapter 2: Realization (Part 1)

With Grace Bolton deliberately keeping a low profile and avoiding trouble, the job was going pretty well. After all, there weren’t many diligent, strong, and unpaid workers around.

Every night and at noon, he would meditate in secret. This was an esoteric practice. Grace Bolton found it to be an excellent cultivation method—a ball of true energy constantly becoming purer and stronger. The only regret was that he’d nearly exhausted the remaining memories. He still remembered some martial arts, but the most vivid fragments were fading, and nothing else could be recovered.

In the blink of an eye, three more months passed, and the weather grew colder.

“Ah, it snowed last night!” When Grace Bolton got up from his warm bed to open the door, he suddenly saw a world of white outside. Could it be that it snows in the south too?

Henry Cooper got up as well, looking thoroughly unwilling.

In winter, the nights were longer, but business at the shop was still quite good, so they had to open up at dawn as usual.

Grace Bolton glanced at his hesitant movements but said nothing. He’d already seen through Henry Cooper—just a petty schemer, vulgar at heart. That’s why he wasn’t as diligent in the cold. The boss, though a bit suspicious and wary, still preferred the more hardworking Grace Bolton, at least on the surface.

In the end, a good worker is one who works hard and makes money for the boss.

“Morning, boss.” After finishing his chores and taking down the door panels, Grace Bolton was about to sweep the snow from the entrance when he saw the boss come out, yawning. “Ah, Little Michael, you’re up already. Go to the market and buy some things. It’s the last day of the year—just buy whatever you can find. Don’t bother sweeping the snow here.”

“Alright, I’ll go right away.” Grace Bolton grabbed the two-wheeled vegetable cart and pulled it out over the snow with ease, ignoring the boss’s odd look from behind.

Pulling the cart down the street, Grace Bolton thought of winters in the modern world. No matter what, the snow was never this white… There were still plenty of people on the street, but far fewer than usual. After all, the New Year was coming, and in this era, the New Year was the most sacred day—no one would give up the holiday just to make a little money…

Grace Bolton walked quickly, pulling the cart through the snow without feeling tired. Snowflakes landed on him, true energy flowing gently, and Grace Bolton couldn’t help but look up at the sky.

“Little Michael, out delivering vegetables again!”

“Yeah, Uncle Li, it’s the last run before the New Year.”

Over the past three months, Grace Bolton had made a point of getting to know the lives of people in this world, gathering firsthand information. So whenever he had free time, he’d help out the neighbors, and he’d become quite popular in the area. Many people greeted him, and he always responded.

Before long, Grace Bolton arrived at the market, familiar with the route. He saw a few cart drivers trying to attract customers. Grace Bolton smiled—business was slow during the New Year.

He stopped the cart and entered the shop, where he saw an old man sitting inside. Mr. Foster was drinking tea. Seeing this, Grace Bolton frowned slightly.

Tea, as far as he remembered, only became popular for brewing and drinking in the mid-Tang dynasty. This was the Sui dynasty—there shouldn’t be tea yet. But after coming to this world, he’d already seen plenty of things that didn’t match the historical record, so he didn’t care. He just smiled and said, “Old Foster, let me wish you a happy New Year in advance!”