Grace Carter’s first priority wasn’t figuring out where he was, nor how he got here, but how he could fill his stomach.

He was so hungry he didn’t even have the strength to stand…

The little beggar pulled out a paper packet from his clothes, opened it, and inside was a cold steamed bun.

“Grr, grr grr…” Grace Carter stared at that bun.

The little beggar brought the bun to his mouth.

“Grr, grr grr…” Grace Carter was still staring at that bun.

The little beggar glanced at him, a hesitant look appearing on his dirty little face. After thinking for a while, he split the bun in half and handed one half over.

Without hesitation, Grace Carter stuffed that half bun into his mouth and swallowed it in big bites.

Cabbage filling.

The little beggar brought the remaining half of the bun to his mouth, but again heard a sound by his ear: “Grr, grr grr…”

This time Grace Carter didn’t look at the little beggar. The bun in the beggar’s hand was already at his lips, but he didn’t take a bite.

After a while, the other half of the bun was handed over, but Grace Carter didn’t take it.

The little beggar placed that half bun on a lotus leaf, stood up, and walked out of the alley.

Grace Carter watched outside the alley, trying hard to remember that departing figure. After a long time, he picked up the half cabbage bun, stuffed it into his mouth, and swallowed it in big gulps.

The bun was big, with plenty of filling. After eating it, he finally regained some strength.

He reached into his pocket, ready to take out his phone.

No pocket, and certainly no phone.

He lowered his head and finally realized something was wrong.

His clothes, his shoes, his—his hands!

A look of disbelief appeared on his face. He reached out to touch his face, looked around in confusion, and walked toward a puddle left by the rain not far away…

On the water’s surface, a completely unfamiliar face was reflected.

……

Grace Carter stood at the mouth of the alley. Just two steps forward and he’d be on a bustling street.

He looked lost, stretched out his hands, and looked down at them, still unable to accept this reality.

Unable to accept his body, his appearance, or the world he was in…

He had only taken a nap on the bus!

People bustled past him, all dressed in ancient clothing. He stepped out, circled the street, but didn’t find anything like a camera, not a trace of modern technology.

If only he could see a car, an air conditioner, even a tricycle would do…

No, there was nothing—not even a tricycle, not even a bicycle.

If not for his body, he might still have a sliver of hope. But looking at these obviously smaller hands, and the scar on his left hand from a few days ago was now completely gone…

He had graduated with a master’s degree at twenty-three, but this body looked at most sixteen or seventeen, both in appearance and build, completely different from before.

He had been interested in traditional Chinese culture since childhood. During his master’s, besides his major, he also earned a master’s in Chinese language and literature. In his spare time, he read novels—traditional and online—and was all too familiar with this kind of situation.

If this wasn’t a dream, then maybe, probably, possibly, he had transmigrated.

Just yesterday, he had finished reading a historical transmigration novel called “The Carefree Scholar.” The protagonist in that book also transmigrated after taking a nap in the library, a situation quite similar to his.

The difference was, that guy named Li Yi had a library in his mind after transmigrating. With a wealth of modern knowledge, he carved out a kingdom in another world and ended up living shamelessly with a harem of wives and concubines.

He’d read other types of transmigration novels too. Other people who transmigrated always had a ring, a system, a library, and under the guidance of a white-bearded old man, set out on the path to become a peerless powerhouse…

He had nothing.

He didn’t even know who he was or where his home was. For a transmigrator to end up like this, besides not being able to accept the reality of transmigration, he also felt a bit sad.

He wandered the streets in a daze. No system, no cheat, fine—but at least let him know who he was, where his home was, where this place was, and whether he could have another cabbage bun for his next meal…

His stomach was unbearably hungry, his heart filled with frustration. Grace Carter couldn’t help but look up, raise his middle finger, and curse angrily, “Damn heavens, do you have to be so…”

A black shadow rapidly enlarged before his eyes.

Bang!

On the second floor of a small building by the street, a pretty young woman stared in shock at the young man who had collapsed on the street.

She covered her face and muttered, “Oh no, my hand slipped…”

People upstairs began hurrying down.

In the crowd on the street, a young man shouted as he looked at the person lying on the ground, “Quick, hurry and get the embroidered ball back for me!”

Grace Carter lay on the ground, his mind buzzing, something wet trickling down his forehead.

He was clutching a big red ball in his arms—solid.

He didn’t dare curse the damn heavens anymore. He was afraid that next time, what fell from the sky wouldn’t be a stone, but a knife.

He hugged the thing tightly in his arms. This was a weapon, this was evidence!

He’d been hit so hard he was bleeding—surely he deserved some compensation, right?