Chapter 1 — Two Silver
“…Jing! Xie Jing! Wake up!”
Xie Jing blinked a few times before his mind slowly cleared.
He was lying face-down on the ground, his whole body soaked and cold. Even when he tried with all his strength, he could only move the tips of his fingers. One fingernail was cracked, stinging painfully in a puddle of half-melted snow water.
The boy calling him wasn’t very old—ten or eleven at most— wearing a tattered black jacket. His head had just a thin layer of dark stubble, and right now his face was pale with fright.
He gave Xie Jing a few shakes, saw him open his eyes, then backed away quickly, looking ready to bolt.
Xie Jing coughed; the taste of iron filled his throat.
The boy ran a few steps, then—hesitating for a moment— turned back, shoved a few copper coins into Xie Jing’s hand without a word, and darted off like a startled rabbit.
Xie Jing closed his eyes, gripping those still-warm coins tightly.
His mind was in chaos, fragments flashing by— polishing a memorial tablet… someone calling him, instructing him to do something… a dream that seemed to last for years.
It was as if he had just woken from a very long dream— and found himself back in his youth.
Xie Jing bit his lip. The sharp pain grounded him; his gaze cleared as he looked around.
His eyes fell on the stiff collar of his clothes, soaked and hardened by half-melted snow, and the dull ache on the back of his neck reminded him what had happened.
If he remembered correctly, this was the hardest winter of his thirteenth year.
That very winter, Grandma Kou, who had raised him, succumbed to illness after a lingering fever.
And the reason he had collapsed here was because Grandma Kou had been burning with fever since the previous night.
He had clenched his teeth, taken the last valuable item from home, and gone to the pawnshop— barely managing to exchange it for two silver dollars to hire a doctor for her. But as soon as he stepped out of the pawnshop, someone followed him. When he reached the alleyway, a heavy blow to the back of his head sent him into darkness.
The frightened boy who had called his name earlier was Little Li, an apprentice from a local opera troupe. He often crawled through dog holes in the wall to come play with Xie Jing. They were familiar, if not close.
But Little Li was timid by nature— sneaking out to accompany Xie Jing to the pawnshop had already made his legs tremble. When Xie Jing was struck unconscious, the boy was terrified out of his wits.
After trying to wake him and shoving a few of his own saved coins into Xie Jing’s hand,
he ran off without looking back.
Xie Jing braced himself and slowly pushed upright. He remembered that last time, he hadn’t regained consciousness until midnight— and by the time he made it home, Grandma Kou had already passed away.
This time, he’d woken half a day earlier— and still had a few copper coins in his hand.
Instead of going home, he took those coins and headed toward the Kou family’s house in town.
Grandma Kou had relatives in Qinghe County, but they rarely kept in touch—because of poverty.
An old woman and a child living alone, barely able to afford food. In times like these, who dared get too close?
A growing boy like Xie Jing ate a lot, and no one had extra rice to feed another mouth. So, slowly, the family ties faded.
But this time, Xie Jing was taking a gamble.
When he knocked on the door of the Kou household, evening had already fallen. Inside the humble clay-brick house, a faint yellow oil lamp cast a warm light over a small dining table.
On it steamed coarse-grained mantou buns, a bowl of golden corn-mash porridge, a dish of steamed salted fish, and a small pot of cabbage stewed with pork cracklings— the aroma hit straight to the nose.
Standing in the doorway, Uncle Kou, the third son of the family, greeted him politely. He assumed Xie Jing had come to borrow money and hesitated to invite him in.
“Strictly speaking, I ought to go take a look,” he said awkwardly, “but this consumption sickness isn’t cured in a day or two. Every family has its own hardships…”
Xie Jing said calmly, “Third Uncle, I didn’t come to borrow money. I heard Cousin Pei is going with you to serve as a housekeeper.”
Uncle Kou’s expression brightened with pride. “Exactly! A while ago, I took him to deliver some goods to the master’s household. Don’t know what kind of luck we stumbled on, but they named him specially—wanted him to stay on as a servant!”
“Don’t let him go.”
Uncle Kou’s brows shot up. “What did you say?”
“I advise you not to send Cousin Pei,” Xie Jing said steadily.
“He broke something belonging to the young master there. The household is hiring him to take revenge. Did you sign a death contract?”
He couldn’t be sure of every detail— only that, in his past life, Uncle Kou’s son had gone to that house, and within a few months had gone mad and died there. Uncle Kou had wept to anyone who would listen, saying it was the young master who killed his boy. He had even submitted several petitions, but the family was wealthy and powerful— with a contract sealed by fingerprint— and the case was quietly buried.
Uncle Kou’s face darkened with suspicion. He turned back inside and questioned his son in a low voice.
Cousin Pei Feng was still eating, mumbling around a mouthful of wheat bun. His words were slurred, his eyes evasive. Uncle Kou struck him sharply on the back of the head several times until the boy stammered out a few fragments: “…half a month ago… box… broke…”
Xie Jing stood silently at the door, waiting.
When Uncle Kou returned, a fine sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead. He pulled the door open slightly wider and whispered, “Xie Jing… how do you know about this? Do you know someone from the master’s house? What else did they tell you?”
Xie Jing answered, “They said they’ll have Cousin Pei run errands in the streets. Master Hu from the old shop is the pickiest of all— he’ll find some excuse to drive him out, or send him to the stables for hard labor.”
(In his previous life, Pei Feng had hanged himself in those very stables— driven mad, babbling nonsense until his senseless death.)
Cold sweat trickled down Uncle Kou’s spine. The warmth from the cooking pot seemed to vanish, leaving only a chill creeping up his back.
He had given the old shopkeeper a few silver dollars, hoping his son could learn under Master Hu. They had promised eagerly. Now, hearing what Xie Jing said, it was clear that Master Hu—who oversaw the herbal storeroom, a very good post— was merely bait.
And Uncle Kou knew all too well what the stables were like. In times like these, officials changed with each season, and local power mattered more than law. A few stable boys dying from cold or beatings was nothing unusual— a little money could make it all disappear.
And half a month ago… His son had broken something…
Uncle Kou’s heart clenched painfully. As he struggled with what to do, the boy before him spoke again, voice calm and even:
“Third Uncle, send me to the master’s house. I’ll take Cousin Pei’s place.”
Uncle Kou stared, stunned.
“You take two silver dollars,” Xie Jing said slowly but clearly, “and use them to hire a doctor for my grandma.
I’ll go in Cousin Pei’s stead.”
