Don't farm, cultivate immortality!

If you believe in science, you're just a mouse at best!

It really was a mouse. The flash of lightning allowed Zhuang Xing to see the mouse's appearance clearly. It probably crawled in through a hole in the wall. The palm-sized mouse was grooming its fur.

See? You're just scaring yourself. It's just a mouse, not a ghost. What's there to be afraid of?

As Zhuang Xing was thinking this, the mouse looked up, and their eyes met, as if time had frozen for a few seconds.

Then, the mouse scurried towards Zhuang Xing's bamboo basket without stopping.

How strange, he actually saw what looked like the joy of discovering food in a mouse.

Don't come any closer!

I don't like it!

"Waaaa! Waaaaa!"

Zhuang Xing broke out in a cold sweat. He opened his mouth and made as loud a sound as possible to scare the mouse away. He didn't want the mouse to bite off one of his ears, and he didn't want to have his first close encounter with Mr. Mouse!

But the mouse remained unmoved and pressed on. It seemed very clever and could tell that Zhuang Xing was an infant and posed no threat to it.

Zhuang Xing felt this was absolutely terrible. He had inexplicably turned into a baby and then inexplicably encountered this kind of thing.

He considered himself to have a high level of patience, but he still couldn't help wanting to curse.

Damn it, let's bring it on!

Although his hands and feet were wrapped in cloth, he still had a mouth but no teeth, so I'll use all my strength to compete with you.

I want to use your duck neck as a pacifier!

This was a matter of life and death, and Zhuang Xing had made up his mind, but just as the mouse was about to climb onto the bamboo basket, he heard hurried footsteps.

Da da da...

The mouse stopped in its tracks, its ears twitched, and it made a 180-degree turn before darting under the cabinet.

It was Mother returning. She lit the lamp oil and hurried over to the bamboo basket.

Zhuang Xing breathed a sigh of relief. Luckily, his mother came back and scared the rat away; otherwise, he didn't dare to imagine what would have happened next.

That makes sense; once his mother came back, he stopped feeling scared.

Zhuang Xing stared wide-eyed at his mother. Her body was covered in mud, and she was clutching a bundle in her arms. It was clear that she had run very fast. She was panting heavily, her whole body was soaked, and her hair was stuck to her face.

At first glance, she really looks like a disheveled female ghost.

Fortunately, Zhuang Xing recognized his mother's face. After all, a month had passed, and they had spent every day together. It would be difficult for him not to remember her face.

The moment she saw Zhuang Xing blink, her mother patted her chest.

Zhuang Xing breathed a sigh of relief. Indeed, there is no one better than a mother in the world. A child without a mother is like a blade of grass, while a child with a mother is a treasure. He wanted to be a treasure, not a blade of grass.

The mother put down the package, wiped her hands slightly, picked up Zhuang Xing, and took off his soaking wet diaper.

It feels much more refreshing, though a little chilly.

Then, Zhuang Xing was wrapped in a clean cloth, and his mother led him out of the bedroom.

This was the first time Zhuang Xing had come outside; he had been in that room before.

He looked around curiously. Outside was the kitchen where the fire was lit. A brush made of straw hung on the mottled earthen wall. A large firewood pot sat on the earthen stove. There was very little furniture: a four-cornered table, a few small wooden stools, and a dried salted fish and a piece of smoked meat hanging above the stove. This reminded Zhuang Xing of the old house where his grandmother lived.

But Grandma's house is obviously much more advanced than this one. At least Grandma's house has electric lights and a water pump that can be squeezed up and down to draw water when you add water. This place has none of that. Its main feature is that it's green and pollution-free.

Mother picked up a wooden ladle and scooped water from the water vat into the large pot.

She actually used a tinderbox to start the fire. She sat in front of the stove with Zhuang Xing in her arms, lit the dry grass with the tinderbox, and then added firewood.

With one arm around Zhuang Xing and the other holding a blackened fire poker, she skillfully started a fire and boiled water. The firelight warmed her body, perfect for warming herself on such a rainy day.

Zhuang Xing rolled over in his mother's arms so that the firewood could illuminate more areas.

Outside, the rain was pouring down, and the sound of the rain was deafening. His heart calmed down without him realizing it, and he felt so comfortable that he wanted to take another nap.

But his mother seemed to intend to give him a bath. After boiling the water, she poured hot and cold water into the wooden basin to make it lukewarm.

Zhuang Xing was placed in a wooden basin, which was like a bathtub to him. His mother gently washed him, and he splashed around and made a few whimpering noises. His mother smiled, took him out of the water, wrapped him up, and put him back in the bamboo basket.

Afterwards, Zhuang Xing heard the sound of water through the wall, which must have been his mother taking a bath. Soon after, his mother, who had changed her clothes, returned to the room, took him to the bed, and teased him with her fingers.

Zhuang Xing felt a little guilty. He actually suspected that his mother would abandon him, and he felt ashamed of his distrust and doubt.

After teasing him for a while, his mother took the package and opened it.

Zhuang Xing saw a small blanket, a small sachet, and some strung-together metal coins, which looked like copper coins.

At the bottom of the package was a letter. The mother, with lamp oil burning, sat on the bed holding Zhuangxing and silently read the letter.

"Your father has given you a name," she said softly. "Zhuang Xing, your name will be Zhuang Xing. I hope you will do many good deeds and accumulate good fortune in the future."

Perhaps due to the adjustment of the timeline, in this life, he is still called Zhuang Xing.

So you went out today to pick up the letter your husband sent?

It turns out he has a father, who seems quite family-oriented and even sends money home.

However, the fact that they were still using copper coins is indeed characteristic of the feudal dynasty era.

He could more or less tell that the social conditions in this place were quite rough and simple, and that clothing, food and living conditions were all at an extremely backward level.

Now it's confirmed that he traveled back to ancient times and was reincarnated as an infant. He didn't become a piglet, nor did he lose his dignity as a man. It's a stroke of good luck amidst misfortune.

He understands this strategy; now he should use all his knowledge to reach the pinnacle of life: a life with many wives and concubines and immense wealth.

He looked up at his mother's face and felt that he was lucky. Although the family was poor, they had a good caregiver.

We must try our best to make this family live a good life. In this era, a large part of the knowledge in our heads can be put to use. Even if we don't become rich and powerful, we can still look forward to a comfortable life.

Zhuang Xing was thinking to himself that when he was contemplating philosophy, he would actually review the knowledge he could remember in his mind. He had already made a plan: once he had the ability to act independently, he would use a knife to carve that knowledge onto bamboo strips.

Of course, there were also the ancient poems he had memorized. He was all too familiar with this kind of routine. As long as he recited a line like "Clouds think of her clothes, flowers think of her face" in a brothel, he would surely shock everyone and marry the young, beautiful, well-educated, and still virgin courtesan, creating a legendary love story.

He didn't know if it would work out, but that's how it was written in those novels anyway.

Since this is ancient times, I'll definitely want to have three wives and four concubines in the future, so let's strive for that goal!

However, whatever ideas we have, we have to wait until he grows up before we can discuss them.

There is only one thing a baby needs to do: grow up safely and peacefully!

...

Chapter 2 Tiger Spirit

Two more months passed, and winter arrived, with a noticeable drop in temperature.

Zhuang Xing's life remained largely unchanged. The good news was that he could crawl again, but he still couldn't control his holy sword.

His day was simple: eat and sleep, sleep and eat. When he had nothing to do, he would play finger games with his mother or cry loudly for help.

He really wanted a bell that would ring when he shook it, so he could act more elegantly, but he didn't have one at home, so he could only whine like a fire siren.

Although these days were somewhat boring, his mother took good care of him. He never got sick or went hungry. In ancient times, when medical conditions were so poor, this was something to be thankful for, and he should be grateful to God for protecting him.

He was wrapped in a blanket and lying in his mother's arms. It was the blanket his father had sent back. It was probably filled with downy feathers like duck and goose feathers. It was very warm and soft to wear and had a faint herbal scent that could repel mosquitoes.

Father still hasn't come home, but he sent another sum of money back. I don't know what kind of work he's doing out there. It's been three months and I still haven't seen him. Zhuang Xing suspects that he might be a laborer working on flood control, as he has passed by the door three times already.

Besides money, my father also sent back some red paper cuttings and beads, probably for warding off evil spirits and praying for blessings. My mother pasted the paper talismans on the front door and windows, and hung the beads in the inner room.

This must be a custom. There are many paper-cuts that were pasted on the doors and windows before. I don't know if it's a coincidence, but after pasting the paper-cuts, Zhuang Xing has never seen that annoying rat in the house again. There are also far fewer spiders and insects.

Three people came to our house today, and we were busy running around.

"Is it okay to put it here?"

"Put it closer to the bedside, yes, that's perfect, thank you."

They brought in a stone stove and a rocking chair, along with a lot of firewood, and placed them in the kitchen.

After setting up the stove, the mother took out a string of copper coins from her purse and paid them. They counted the money and left satisfied.

The room became quiet again. It's always so peaceful here. There's no music from square dancing, no traffic, and no crowds. Compared to modern times, the population density here is like comparing a piece of land to a piece of the sky.

However, he wasn't really living in seclusion. Over the past three months, he would occasionally see people passing by on the path outside his house. Sometimes, his mother would ask people to come over to help with chores, just like today. It's just that the visits weren't as frequent. He felt that he was living in a small village in the countryside.

"Look, son, it's snowing."

The mother carried Zhuang Xing to the window, took a snowflake, and placed it in front of Zhuang Xing.

Zhuang Xing stretched out his little hand, and the snow melted in his palm. He clapped his hands and made a few "woo-wah-woo-wah" noises.

His mother smiled, picked him up and put him in the rocking chair, and added some charcoal to the stove.

The fiery red glow of the charcoal made Zhuang Xing feel warm.

“This is a wardrobe,” his mother whispered in his ear. “This is a bed.”

"This is your mother. Come to the village, and say 'Mother~' with your mother."

His mother held Zhuang Xing's fingers and tried to teach him to speak, word by word.

Zhuang Xing tried to learn from him, but his vocal cords were not yet fully developed, so he could only make some whimpering sounds.

Feeling sleepy again, he snuggled up a few times, found a comfortable spot in his mother's arms, closed his eyes, and fell asleep peacefully.

His mother stroked his head, rocking back and forth in the rocking chair. The charcoal fire crackled occasionally, and he fell asleep peacefully, smelling the charcoal and his mother's scent, and had a sweet dream.

...

At night, Zhuang Xing woke up while lying in the bamboo basket.

Not long ago, his little bamboo basket was upgraded, filled with quilts and down, and is now a proper crib.

Outside, the cold wind howled, and the simple mud house creaked and groaned with the sound of the wind, as if something unseen was trying to break in.

He couldn't help but turn around and look at the bedside. His mother was sleeping peacefully, the light from the stove illuminating her sleeping face.

He felt at ease simply because his mother was by his side.

But he was about to pee when he sensed the red alert signal, so he cleared his throat, gathered his strength, and burst into tears.

Mother's eyebrows twitched, she rubbed her eyes, and opened them.

She yawned as she brought over the chamber pot. Without any communication, she knew what Zhuang Xing wanted to do; that was tacit understanding.