On an autumn morning, faint light had just appeared in the eastern sky as milky fog floated through the ancient city. Painted boats slowly sailed on the Qinhuai River, appearing and disappearing in patches of thick fog, like jade palaces floating in the heavens.

In the deep autumn fog, Ning Yi jogged along the road beside the Qinhuai River while humming songs—this morning exercise routine had already become fixed. Time was all he had anyway, and moving forward along the road, ancient brick and wood buildings appeared sporadically on both sides, various kinds of trees. Painted boats drifted on the Qinhuai River, and occasionally he saw boatmen or weary courtesans¹appearing at the bow.

This time period was Jiangning city's most interesting metabolic phase—the night's disturbance and prosperity had already dispersed, new vitality just beginning. The outer city gates were already open, and vegetable farmers and peddlers coming for the morning market entered one after another, going to various markets. He didn't encounter many people, but they all gave a feeling of greenness and vitality. Occasionally he could also see people with weary faces hurrying along the roadside or even disheveled—most had spent the night at some brothel and were leaving early due to daytime business, nine times out of ten. A small half of shops were open, though beggars hadn't gotten up yet.

Happiness often came from unhappiness, prosperity always came from comparison—for Ning Yi who'd seen modern big cities, no matter how prosperous Jiangning was, it was just so-so. But these things didn't need to be taken seriously—the ancient, natural flavor was real after all. Those living here were always easily satisfied people. If the harvest was enough for food and warmth, they could smile with joy.

Ning Yi occasionally discussed these things with Old Qin. Jiangning was considered a very good city, but actually beggars also walked everywhere in groups, and selling sons and daughters wasn't rare either. Of course there were also many wealthy households here, and if one could sell children into a decent mansion as servants or maids, they wouldn't worry about food and warmth in the future—counting as ancestors accumulating virtue. Thanks to the flourishing red-light districts along the Qinhuai River, pretty poor girls had one more path. If they could learn poetry and singing in the future and the madam could manage well, they might sell art not body and become famous courtesans—with even better luck they might marry into some great house as a concubine. But the vast majority with bad luck could only sell their bodies for life, and when old and faded, if the madam was kind-hearted and released them to freedom—fortunately with more such places, rules could form. If one could follow the rules, they could always get through this life neither good nor bad. Of course good and bad here were relative. If old prostitutes had no money, brothels would mostly still take them in to do some cleaning and sweeping to pass their remaining years, not directly throwing them out. After being together long, this bit of conscience and welfare still existed, though if not in cities like Jiangning or Yangzhou, even these things couldn't be guaranteed.

There were also those raising "thin horses."²Later generations knew Yangzhou thin horses as famous worldwide, starting from the Ming Dynasty. But actually similar trades already existed at this time, not large scale, but always an investment accompanying red-light districts. Girls raised as thin horses had better fates than ordinary girls sold to brothels, with hope for the future, because they at least had chances to learn the four arts³, poetry and singing, more likely to join the ranks of famous courtesans in the future.

Every flood season refugees would come. In good years fewer, but always some. If the year wasn't good, for example the Yellow River flooding every few years or other natural disasters and man-made calamities, the city would always be tense for a period. The army would guard the city gates, not allowing refugees to enter, while the prefect would summon wealthy merchants for discussion—actually mobilizing donations. Everyone would chip in to provide porridge and meals... People would always freeze to death in winter, also depending on the year—in good years fewer died. If not good, it went without saying. Beggars had hard winters. If it snowed, the next day one would always see those frozen to death huddled together—commonplace.

Seeing these things often made one accustomed. But Old Qin would occasionally say: "These aren't good years." There were good years too. The Wu Dynasty's initial years counted as singing and dancing in peace. Emperor Wu Heng and Emperor Wu Hui with their great talent and bold vision and so on. Ning Yi always felt dizzy hearing it, but any dynasty would have some years of singing and dancing in peace. The Wu Dynasty at this time was very similar to the late Northern Song. Away from this relatively wealthy Jiangnan area, several groups of peasant forces were rebelling. Strongmen and bandits were definitely not rare. To the north, the country called Great Liao ruled by the Khitan repeatedly invaded the borders. Invade then negotiate peace, invade then negotiate peace. A few years ago they signed an agreement, calling each other brother nations. Of course Liao as elder brother, Wu as younger. Even after signing they were still fighting. Small-scale border invasions never stopped.

Ning Yi wasn't worried about this. The Jingkang Incident⁴hadn't come yet. Though different emperors would certainly mean different outcomes if it happened, the emperor also hadn't moved the capital to Jiangning yet. This country still had national strength. If they had to fight, they could always support fighting on. Even if the capital moved, substituting the Wu Dynasty into the Southern Song model—didn't the Southern Song also support itself for a long period? When the Jin invaded again, he should have already lived out this lifetime. "South Dynasty's four hundred eighty temples, how many towers and terraces in misty rain"—showing the Southern Song—uh, seemed like it wasn't about the Southern Song. Ning Yi thought about it with no result, so threw it aside—whatever, the Southern Song's life was indeed passable anyway.

He had no thoughts of saving the Chinese nation or establishing any eternal achievements after coming to ancient times. Already tired, like unloading a burden of hot blood, he'd long been accustomed to various injustices and darkness. Modern society was also dark, and even if the world was sorrowful, it couldn't arouse his sympathy and resonance—not that there was none, but not enough. As for eternal achievements like becoming emperor, people who could only live sixty years thinking about matters of one hundred twenty years was purely childish. But then again, at other boring times, for instance just after finishing running and sweating all over while resting by a relatively secluded bend of the Qinhuai River, Ning Yi would also irresponsibly think about things that might seem slightly more positive to others.

For instance, if he really wanted to do something, the live-in son-in-law identity was actually very troublesome. But the problem wasn't big—business opportunities were everywhere in this era. Eating vegetables without MSG⁵, and he somewhat knew MSG's production method. Seemed simple but actually somewhat complex, though spending about a year or so could probably achieve mass production. Then combining some new dishes and modern cooking concepts to make a food city, he could always earn something.

This era had no music—anyone who'd lived in a world where one could infinitely download various music and listen infinitely every day could somewhat imagine how boring it was. Those brothel performances might not look good, and famous courtesans singing might not sound good. But if you couldn't hear anything at all, suddenly hearing one that barely met standards would naturally feel like heavenly music. If he could make an entertainment city or something, great potential—songs, dances, various games. Modern song lyrics mostly couldn't be used, but localizing melodies and singing styles would be no problem. More implicit dance concepts fitting this era's style, or copying some poems for people to sing.

He'd also been bored long enough to always think about eating, drinking and playing.

As for departing from eating, drinking and playing, spending decades to create guns and cannons laying foundation for an industrial revolution, rebelling to become emperor so people two hundred years later could ride airplanes and such—no matter what he couldn't enjoy it himself. Thinking about it was really too stupid, not as meaningful as opening food cities and entertainment cities.

The morning breeze was slightly cool as he stood by the riverside built of piled stones, throwing pebbles into the water while turning these ideas in his mind.

Actually for now, these couldn't be done either.

Someone who'd married into the Su family basically had no chance of opening a brothel—could put that aside for later. The Su family ran cloth stores, so if he wanted to open a tavern, also troublesome. For instance, he could first give the Su family's cloth store a few ideas, prove his value, then... oh, then he'd be sent to the cloth store as a shopkeeper or something. Prove more, and it would become the same profession as his previous life again. Then he could use funds to open a tavern. Under their puzzled gazes, tell them this was very profitable. Next, need to find people to make a series of equipment, use his brain for various experiments, create assembly lines. And the reason for doing this was merely because he missed the less than one gram of MSG in each meal. Wasn't this being bored out of his mind...

Softly humming the melody of Blue Caribbean Sea, Ning Yi couldn't help laughing at his own idea. Doing it might not be so troublesome, but thinking about it just felt very interesting—rather than directly buying several hundred catties of kelp to boil and dry for crystals. But kelp was easy to buy—if doing experiments in this area, on one hand they'd say he was wasteful, on the other hand, maybe someone would tell him gentlemen stay away from the kitchen⁶...

After humming the beginning of Blue Caribbean Sea, he forgot the rest, so it became "Two Tigers." When humming the second round of "two tigers running fast," chicken clucking came from the road behind.

"Ge ge ge ge ge ge..."

"Geck geck geck geck geck geck..."

Two kinds of sounds—one was a woman's, one was a chicken's—and looking back, in the faintly visible fog, a chicken was running for its life among the road and trees over there. Then a woman in gray-white cloth skirt appeared, holding a kitchen knife, persistently chasing and trying to kill that chicken. Person and chicken desperately circled in the fog, appearing and disappearing.

Ning Yi stood under a tree by the river, hand supporting his chin watching this scene.

Theoretically, imitating chicken sounds was to give chickens a sense of security, luring them over. But now the chicken was scared like this—what use was calling "ge ge"? Calling "jie jie" (sister) would be useless too.

Thinking this in his heart, after watching this person-chicken battle for a while, just when he felt that woman had a nice figure, the chicken suddenly changed direction and rushed over here, passing by Ning Yi and decisively jumping into the river.

That woman also followed anxiously with urgency on her face. Originally the morning fog was thick. Ning Yi standing under a tree wasn't very noticeable. That woman probably didn't notice someone beside her. Seeing the riverbank ahead, she chopped down with her kitchen knife—this chop was very forceful. The woman even made a "hmph" sound, but completely missed, and instead the knife flew from her hand, splashing into the water.

Ning Yi was startled by this chop's decisive momentum, then discovered the woman's body was already leaning forward, arms waving about to fall into the river. He subconsciously shouted "Hey!" and reached out to grab, catching one of the woman's hands. The woman turned around, her other hand subconsciously grabbing over, and just as Ning Yi was about to use force to pull her back, the stones under his feet loosened...

"Ah—glub—" A short cry of alarm.

Splash—

Then violent splashing sounds, splash splash splash. The river surface churned under the thick fog.

Ning Yi's swimming had been quite good in his previous life, but unfortunately swimming ability couldn't transfer over. This body was originally a weak scholar, swimming not very good either, and weak constitution plus previous injury—though Ning Yi had recuperated for several months and exercised, improvement in a few months was ultimately limited. That woman seemed to also not swim well, and the two desperately struggled in water that wasn't extremely deep. Ning Yi calmed down several times wanting to speak but was pulled underwater by the other party.

"You... glub glub glub..."

"Hey... glub glub glub glub..."

"Don't... glub glub glub glub glub..."

They say many good swimmers doing heroic deeds died together with panicked drowning people.

Who knew how long passed before Ning Yi dragged that woman to climb up stone steps on the riverbank dozens of meters away. He was soaked through, utterly bedraggled, lying on the bank spitting out several mouthfuls of water before recovering, then looking at the rescued woman—she'd already drunk her fill of water and passed out, motionless.

"Hey!" Ning Yi slapped that woman's face several times, but the woman's long hair was like water weeds, looking incomparably wretched, no response.

"Three lotus float in emerald pond... You live by the Qinhuai River and can't swim..." Ning Yi helplessly sighed several times, then positioned the woman's body flat and began emergency rescue according to previously learned procedures.

Even if the other party was a woman, this rescue wasn't necessarily any beautiful job. Not some swimsuit beauty—at this moment this woman was all wrinkled. Looking at her messy hair was like the legendary drowned water ghost, utterly bedraggled, and Ning Yi was anxious in his heart. He continuously did several chest compressions, making her spit out quite a bit of water, then slapped her face. Finding still no response, he pinched the other party's cheeks and began artificial respiration⁷.

After doing it for quite a while, that woman groggily woke up. Just as Ning Yi was about to lean down, a slap rang out crisply on his face. In the morning breeze this slap was incomparably clear as that woman with a crying voice, her voice wretched: "Lecher, you... cough... what are you doing..." Hugging her chest and desperately retreating. At this time her whole body's clothes stuck to her limbs, her slender legs kicking on the ground, wretched and thin, with somewhat of a pitifully delicate feeling.

If other passersby passed by at this time, they might beat Ning Yi up because of this scene.

"I knew it would be like this..." Ning Yi tilted his head for quite a while, dropped his shoulders, let out a long breath, then sat on the road surface behind. The two stared at each other by the riverside for quite a while before Ning Yi raised his hand: "Are you alright?"

The woman glared at him, not speaking.

"Good that you're fine." Making the answer himself, forcefully getting up from the ground, Ning Yi pursed his lips, turned and walked in the direction he came from. Cool wind blew over—really cold.

Behind, that woman also sat there shrinking her body, watching his figure gradually disappear at that end of the road...

That woman was really pitiful, lost the chicken and the knife too, Ning Yi gloatingly thought while walking back soaking wet. Blowing in cold wind in this situation was very painful, but thinking others were more pitiful, his pain slightly decreased.

Regarding small matters, he'd always had his own open-minded way. Since things couldn't be changed, he could only use this method to temporarily make himself happier.

(End of Chapter)