The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

Wang Zhonghua is dead too!

He was no longer that dull country boy.

He is Wang Zhonghua, a time traveler from the 21st century!

Looking at Qin Tiehua, who was genuinely moved and bore a striking resemblance to "Stars in the Sky," a girl who had only existed in the original owner's memories, was not very literate, somewhat brash but kind-hearted, a complex mix of emotions welled up in his heart: resentment towards the original owner's fate, relief at surviving a calamity, and an inexplicable sense of responsibility.

He opened his mouth, and his usually dull tongue seemed to become much more agile, carrying a hint of comicality that even he himself didn't realize. He weakly said, "Tiehua... little sister... don't cry. If you don't believe me, try it. If you keep crying, the water in this Great Yin River will rise three feet high..."

Qin Tiehua's crying stopped abruptly. She suddenly raised her head, her tear-filled eyes widening as she stared at Wang Zhonghua in disbelief.

The Chinese man in front of her seemed to have different eyes. They were no longer as murky and evasive as before, but instead held a kind of... a kind of clarity and... mockery that she had never seen before?

And he actually made a joke?

"You...you..." Qin Tiehua momentarily forgot to cry, but two blushes involuntarily rose to her cheeks. She was both embarrassed and anxious, and gently punched him. "You almost drowned, how can you still be so sarcastic!"

Wang Zhonghua (or rather, the reborn Wang Zhonghua) twitched the corner of his mouth, wanting to laugh, but the movement aggravated his injuries, causing him to gasp in pain.

He looked at the wealthy middle-aged man who had saved him and the Qin siblings, and found a corresponding figure in his merged memories—Lu Sanjun, the richest landlord in Chenzhou and the owner of thousands of acres of land in Laomentan Village.

Lü Sanjun? There's a brief record of Lü Sanjun in my own local chronicle, and I just heard his story during my research trip:

Lu Sanjun has taken extravagance to a new level, reaching new heights and becoming a new legend.

It is said that on the day of his full moon celebration, the entire household was filled with guests. Old Master Lü, holding his only grandson for the third generation, was hoping for good fortune when the child, upon hearing the sound of the opera troupe tearing silk, burst into laughter. The old master, amused, ordered over a dozen bolts of Shu brocade to be torn on the spot for his amusement. But the child was even more astonishing—upon hearing the clinking sound of shattering porcelain, he clapped his hands and drooled. The entire Lü household went mad, hiring two servants who did nothing but tear silk and smash porcelain outside the young master's window every day, just to hear that one laugh.

As the child grew up, his quirks not only didn't change, but they became even worse.

The most absurd incident occurred when he was eighteen. Three boats carrying tribute-grade silk arrived at the ferry, destined for Bianjing (Kaifeng) for the palace, worth far more than ten thousand taels of gold. Upon hearing this, Lü Sanjun excitedly rushed to the dock. The steward assumed his young master intended to inspect the goods, but instead, after boarding the boat and listening for a long time to the rustling sound of the silk, he suddenly opened his eyes and laughed, "This sound is wrong; the purity isn't high enough."

Everyone was stunned. He said slowly, "A truly superior piece of silk should make a 'splitting sound' when torn, crisp yet with a hint of softness; these silks make a dull sound, which means the silkworms were not fed properly."

Having said that, he ordered his men to tear all the silks apart and inspect them on the spot! The boatmen, stewards, and shopkeepers were terrified and knelt on the ground. Lü Sanjun, however, laughed loudly: "What's there to be afraid of? If this young master is pleased, then the money is well spent!"

On that day at the dock, the sound of tearing silk echoed for two whole hours, with shredded silk fluttering like red snowflakes. Lu Sanjun sat in a rocking chair, squinting, listening to the "rip—" sound, swaying his head and looking completely intoxicated, as if listening to heavenly music.

The onlookers on the shore were dumbfounded, shocked, and stunned: My goodness, that one sound was worth dozens of taels of silver; that pile of shredded silk was enough for the whole county to wear for three years!

After tearing the silk, he wasn't satisfied. He then ordered the most valuable batch of imperial porcelain from the ship's hold to be brought out, saying he would "distinguish the porcelain by its sound." The result, of course, was a spectacular sight—the dock was littered with shards of porcelain flying like jade dust. Lü Sanjun listened with rapt attention, turning to his steward and saying, "Listen, the sound of this imperial porcelain cracking is crisper than ordinary porcelain, like ice cracking, like a gurgling spring… Excellent! A fine treat!"

The steward wanted to jump into the river right then and there. Those porcelain pieces represented half a year's profit from the Lü family's shop, and just like that, they were all smashed to pieces.

Even more ingenious, Lü Sanjun wrote a poem that very night, titled "Song of Judging Goods by Sound," which he had the accountant frame and hang at the entrance of the accounting office. The poem reads: "The sound of tearing silk is crisp, the sound of shattering porcelain is melodious. A thousand pieces of gold can buy a smile, ten thousand pieces of gold can create the sound of the tide."

The accountant quit his job that very night, saying that working for such a master would probably cost him his ancestral graves.

From then on, "Listening to Sounds at the Dock" became Lü Sanjun's trademark, and also the biggest joke in the entire Chenzhou. People would imitate the sounds of tearing silk and breaking porcelain vividly during their leisure time. There were even storytellers in the entertainment districts who created a piece called "The Prodigal Son Listens to Sounds," which was always packed to capacity.

It is said that even a thousand years later, there are still shards of porcelain broken by Lü Sanjun in the Da Sha River!

So when he stood before Wang Zhonghua now, dressed in a brocade robe, wearing a jade thumb ring, and with a condescending pity in his eyes, Wang Zhonghua couldn't help but picture that spendthrift son sitting in a rattan chair, closing his eyes and listening to ten thousand taels of silver turn to ashes.

I never expected to meet the real Lü Sanjun right after transmigrating! Damn it, fate really knows how to play tricks!

Looking at Lü Sanjun in front of him, Wang Zhonghua felt a mix of emotions!

"Thank you...Master Lü for saving my life." He struggled to control his young body, trying to sit up and bow.

Lu Sanjun waved his large, fat hand, his face kind, but his eyes held a scrutinizing glint typical of a businessman. His expression revealed him to be a shrewd merchant, not a spendthrift: "It was nothing. You look familiar, young man. You're from Wangjiagang, aren't you? Your family farms my land! I know your father, Wang Zhuacai, and I've seen you before. Your name is Wang... something... Hua. I didn't expect you to have such a chivalrous heart, but... you're a bit too impulsive."

He paused, looked at Wang Zhonghua's soaked, tattered clothes and pale face, and sighed, "Go home quickly, change into dry clothes, and don't catch a cold."

Going home? A song welled up in Wang Zhonghua's heart:

Where is my home? My home is at the west end of the village. A dilapidated thatched house, where you can see the stars when you look up…

Wang Zhonghua's (the fused being) heart sank. Memories of two lifetimes tore at him apart at this moment—

Before his transmigration, he was a solitary lamp in the local history office. Young and handsome, he had been influenced by his colleagues to resemble an old scholar, spending his days with piles of old papers, wearing glasses, compiling county chronicles that no one ever read. His writing, flowing like a dragon, consumed not only ink but also his youth. His parents had died early, and his relatives were estranged. On New Year's Eve, he would sit by a pot of instant noodles, revising his manuscripts. Outside, fireworks shone brightly, but they couldn't illuminate the window of his rented room. He had imagined the warmth of family affection countless times in his writing: his mother's rough fingers tucking him in, his father's silent back, his sister's clear nursery rhymes, the warm colorful lights, the sweet glutinous rice balls... But those imaginings were ultimately nothing more than self-comfort, nothing more than self-hypnosis in the cold night.

At this moment, the original owner's memories of this world surged forth like a tidal wave, filling his long-fabricated dream into reality: In that drafty thatched hut, the rice jar had long since been emptied, leaving only a few grains of stale rice and a layer of dust at the bottom. His mother, Yao, had been drinking only boiled wild vegetables and drinking only water for three days straight to save money for his schooling, making her already sallow complexion even more withered; his father, Wang Zhuacai, had bent over like a bow, injuring his leg while working for Master Lü, but he gritted his teeth and kept quiet, because "raising money for the children's education is the most important thing." His younger sister, Xiao Xiangjun, was the most worried. Every day, she would save her share of bran cakes, break off half, hide it in her bosom, and bring it back to her brother's mouth, blinking her big eyes and saying, "I'm not hungry, brother, just eat your fill." The cakes were so rough they scratched his throat and so hard they could hit a dog, but in his mouth, they were sweeter than honey.

The warmth of a mother tucking her in late at night, the silent care of a father sharpening his sickle, the off-key nursery rhymes sung by a younger sister by the bedside—these small acts of warmth are the unattainable desires of a past life, the only warm fire that can soothe the heart in this bitter world.

The jade thumb ring worn by this wealthy man, Mr. Lü, is worth three years' worth of food for the Wang family.

No, I, Wang Zhonghua, cannot go back like this!

Even though he is my benefactor, I can't be too soft-hearted for the sake of my family!

A bold idea flashed through Wang Zhonghua's mind like lightning. He took a deep breath, suppressing the pain and weakness in his body, and looked directly at Lü Sanjun with clear eyes, using all his strength to make his voice sound calm and confident:

"I will never forget your great kindness in saving my life, Master Lü. I am now penniless and have no way to repay you, but I see a worry in your eyes. Is it... the matter of having an heir?"

Lu Sanjun, who was about to turn and leave, suddenly stopped and turned around. His eyes, which were always smiling, suddenly shot out a sharp light like that of a hawk, which was fixed on Wang Zhonghua's face. His fat face, which was covered in sweat, was particularly serious.

"What...what did you say?"

A river breeze blew by, carrying moisture and a hint of fishiness. The servants and the still-lingering crowd fell silent, watching with astonishment and uncertainty the boy who had just crawled back from the brink of death and uttered such startling words.

Lu Sanjun squatted down, his silk shirt clinging to his back with sweat, making him look like a greasy, plump carp: "Kid, what did you say! Don't talk nonsense, you owe me your life!"

Wang Zhonghua took a breath and met Lü Sanjun's scrutinizing gaze. Although he was uneasy, his knowledge and quick wit as a modern writer gave him confidence.

"I can't be too soft-hearted!!!"

He mustered his courage, then suddenly reached out and grabbed Lü Sanjun's wrist—

The boy's fingers were icy cold, but his voice was hotter than the sun in the sky:

"Sir, you have a knife between your brows, the blade pointing towards your son. If I'm not mistaken—your son has been living away from home and is exactly sixteen this year."

Don't believe me? Try it!

"Boom!!!" Wang Zhonghua's words struck Lü Sanjun like a thunderbolt.