Volume One: Reborn in the Southern Song

Transmigrated into the body of a young boy in the Southern Song, enduring hardships and starting his own enterprise...

Chapter 1: Reborn in the Han Residence

There wasn’t a hint of wind, nor a single cloud in the sky. The sky appeared exceptionally blue under the abundant sunlight. It was noon, and the direct sunlight forced all living things exposed to it to retreat. Only a cicada on the old locust tree in the courtyard was tirelessly chirping.

In a side room nearby, a young boy lay on a grand, ornately carved bed. His head was wrapped in thick white cloth, and he was intently staring at the old locust tree, carefully listening to the cicada’s song, as if it were the most beautiful music in the world.

His name was Edward Harris, only twelve years old this year, but due to a head injury, he had been bedridden for over a month, remaining unconscious until the day before yesterday. Perhaps the cicada grew tired from its singing, for it suddenly fell silent. He withdrew his gaze and let out a long sigh.

It had been two days since he transmigrated to this godforsaken place, yet he could do nothing but lie in bed, unable even to stand steadily if he tried to get up. So he could only try to recall—the original owner of this body had left him some fragmented memories that he needed to piece together. But those fragments were disjointed, and his understanding of himself and this era was vague at best. One thing was certain, though: he had come from the twenty-first century, back to the Southern Song eight hundred years ago...

“Wei’er, what are you thinking about?” While Edward Harris was lost in thought, a woman entered, carrying a black lacquered wooden basin. Seeing Edward Harris, so young yet already frowning and sighing, she felt a pang of sorrow for his situation.

“Mother.” The only person Edward Harris had interacted with these past two days was her—his mother, Grace Walker.

Grace Walker placed the basin on a stool by the bed, gently wrung out a towel from the water, and began to wipe Edward Harris’s face, hands, and body. Her movements were light and gentle, afraid of hurting the still-injured Edward Harris. Moments ago, Edward Harris had been sweating profusely, but now he felt utterly refreshed. In an era without air conditioning or electric fans, wiping down the body was one of the best ways to cool off.

“Thank you, Mother.” As the moisture on his skin evaporated, it took away much of the heat, and Edward Harris immediately felt clear-headed and invigorated.

“Silly child, why be so polite with your own mother?” Grace Walker chuckled softly. Ever since Wei’er’s injury, she’d noticed that although her child couldn’t remember many things, he had become more sensible and considerate than before. As a mother, she was keenly aware of even the smallest changes in her child.

“Wei’er, get some good rest. I’ll come back this evening to wipe you down again,” Grace Walker reminded him after finishing up.

By evening, Grace Walker came again to wipe Edward Harris’s body and brought him a bowl of thin porridge for dinner. Edward Harris hadn’t eaten in over ten hours and finished it in just a few gulps. Only when hungry does one realize how delicious food can be. He licked the corner of his mouth, still unsatisfied.

“Wei’er, let me get you another bowl.”

“Mother, I’m already full.” How could Edward Harris dare let Grace Walker get him more? Yesterday, he’d asked for a second bowl because he wasn’t full, which ended up making her go hungry. Only then did he realize that not everyone here had the right to eat their fill.

But Grace Walker insisted on taking his bowl to get more. She would rather go hungry herself than let Edward Harris starve. Yet Edward Harris didn’t want her to go hungry again for his sake. In this era, people only ate two meals a day. “Mother, I really am full.”

“Even if you’re full, eat a little more. The more you eat, the faster you’ll recover.”

“Oh, what are you two talking about?” As they spoke, someone entered from outside, also carrying a tray with a soup pot and a small bowl.

“Lily—why aren’t you attending to the young lady? What brings you here?” Grace Walker asked in surprise when she saw who it was, immediately getting up to take the items from her. Like herself, Lily Walker had come to the Han residence as part of the young lady’s dowry.

“Grace sister, you’re truly blessed. The old madam heard that the third young master has woken up and ordered that he be nursed back to health. The young lady asked me to bring over some ginseng soup—this is real old ginseng, the best for restoring energy and spirit.” Lily Walker casually handed the items to Grace Walker.

Third young master? Edward Harris keenly caught this term. Damn it, are they mocking me again? If he really were the third young master, would he not even be allowed a second bowl of porridge? If he truly were the third young master, his mother should be the young mistress, but when Grace Walker took the tray from Lily Walker, her actions were so natural, as if Lily Walker were the young mistress instead. If he really was the third young master, why did he have no memory of it at all?