Chapter Four: Returning to Ancient Times as a Prince?

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With ten minutes left on the countdown, the wait was undeniably long and agonizing for someone anticipating the arrival of the uncanny.

Inside the guest room, dimly lit, Wei Huang leaned against the TV cabinet. He showed no urgency to leave, nor did he initiate conversation with Ren Ye, quietly smoking a cigarette.

"...What are you going to do later?" Ren Ye finally asked, unable to hold back.

"Report your situation, then go home to play some games," Wei Huang replied calmly.

Suppressing his fear and distractions, Ren Ye tried to divert his attention, casually asking, "You're not married?"

"Divorced."

"Why?"

"We’re both people of strong temperament. After ten years of marriage, we discovered a terrible truth," Wei Huang’s face was veiled in smoke, seemingly unbothered by the topic, "In the end, the marriage was just about going through the motions—no love left. It’s a hard truth to accept, so... we parted ways amicably."

"Heh, makes sense." Ren Ye asked again, "No kids?"

"Initially, we didn’t want any; later, when we wanted them, the love was gone."

"Sounds like you and your wife are quite literary types. People say marriage eventually turns into kinship—why hold on to the rest so seriously?"

"Well, you could choose to live that way, and most people do..."

In the dim room, they chatted about mundane matters without once mentioning the Star Scar Gate.

Wei Huang hadn’t had much success in either his career or love life in recent years, so he wasn’t very talkative at work, yet he stayed and chatted with Ren Ye for nearly ten minutes.

Sensing the time was right, Wei Huang stubbed out his cigarette and waved to Ren Ye with a casual gesture. "I’m off. Wish you all the best."

"Take the letter on the table. If I don’t come back... give it to my dad," Ren Ye reminded while sitting on the bed.

Wei Huang picked up the "will" Ren Ye had written on the small table and headed to the door.

"Hah!"

The eerie moment was about to arrive. Ren Ye’s mouth felt dry; he closed his eyes and exhaled deeply.

But at the door, Wei Huang suddenly stopped, tossing the letter onto the mini-fridge. "I don’t think you’ll need this. Your strong love for your father—go tell him face to face."

"...!" Ren Ye was stunned.

Wei Huang glanced back at him. "The rules and some details about the Star Gate are in the notes I gave you. Beyond that, I can’t help. But you’re remarkable—you’ve adapted to the border and prison. What’s an unknown world? Treat it like a capture mission and keep your mindset steady."

Tense as he was, Ren Ye inexplicably felt a surge of confidence.

"Going now."

Wei Huang opened the door and left.

Inside, Ren Ye sat cross-legged on the bed, slowly calming down.

Wei Huang was right. When Ren Ye did anti-fraud work at the border, he had faced being buried alive, locked in dog cages, thrown in water cells—what dangers hadn’t he encountered? In the detention center, the execution pit for death row inmates was only two body lengths away...

So what if it’s uncanny? What if it’s an unknown world? He was already here; why be nervous?

His heart steadied, his eyes reopened. Soon, the cold voice echoed in his ears once more.

Final ten seconds.

"Nine!"

"Eight!"

"Seven!"

"...!"

Ren Ye’s heart pounded fiercely as he saw a pinprick of starlight appear above the double bed, rapidly expanding.

This time, Ren Ye did not dodge but stared directly at the point of light as it slowly unfolded into a twisted, irregular “Star Gate.”

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The gate’s center was pitch black, deep as an endless abyss.

Its edges shimmered brilliantly, like a flowing river of stars.

“Truly… beautiful.”

“One!”

“Whoosh!”

The countdown ended; a dizzying sensation swept over him.

Suddenly, Ren Ye’s body was pulled into the Star Gate, and the room fell silent once more.

In the two-story building opposite, a young woman named Nian Nian abruptly opened her eyes and said to her colleague, “Star source fluctuations, Seven-Gun War God... gone.”

In the corridor, Wei Huang suddenly halted but soon resumed walking. “Buddha bless me, don’t make me attend another damn funeral...!”

...

First-tier Star Gate world — Great Qian Dynasty, Prince Huai’s Mansion.

Cold. Shaking.

The boundless darkness dissipated, and a scorching ray of sunlight fell upon Ren Ye’s eyes as he slowly awoke.

Opening his sore eyes, Ren Ye instinctively scanned the surroundings.

The spacious bedchamber was fragrant with sandalwood incense. A carved square table and wooden chairs stood nearby. Sunlight streamed through paper lattice windows, the morning light flickering gently.

This was clearly an ancient bedroom, and Ren Ye was lying on a luxurious canopy bed.

He had entered an ancient Chinese Star Gate? Not bad—the immersion was strong.

Supporting himself on the bed, Ren Ye realized his sportswear had transformed into a crimson robe of smooth, glossy satin fabric, evidently valuable.

Getting down, his eyes brimmed with caution and curiosity as he slowly explored the room, looking here and there.

On the left, a writing desk held brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, beside which stood a bronze mirror.

Ren Ye approached and glanced at the mirror, only to freeze in place.

His reflection was visibly changing—the features and face shape warping in an unfamiliar direction, as if sculpted from clay, grotesque to behold.

His hairs stood on end; he stepped back twice in fright.

Those two steps were enough for his face to settle into an ordinary young man’s appearance.

Damn it!

Where had his Wu Yanzu-level good looks gone?

Then, a sharp pain stabbed his brain as a strange memory flooded in, recited like a celestial chant...

"I was born into a wealthy and noble family.

At fourteen, I took concubines.

At fifteen, I married a legitimate wife through an alliance.

Now, I cannot recall how many women I have had...

My family’s fortune is inexhaustible. Before sixteen, I never suffered a single grievance nor heard a word of complaint.

Our dynasty was built by my grandfather.

He fathered countless children but favored my eldest uncle and my father.

While he lived, the family estate was evenly divided—half to my uncle, half to my father.

In my memories, my uncle was kind and doted on me as a child. He called me ‘Little Bean’ and always sided with me during disputes with his children...

Heaven’s favor, I alone bear it.

Thus, I was born to be this way.

My father excelled in every skill—music, chess, calligraphy, archery, horseback riding.

Compared to him, I only knew revelry—lying on dancers’ bellies and boasting about my bedroom prowess.

Knowing my mediocrity, I resolved not to strive, merely to avoid mistakes and inherit the family fortune prepared for me.

At sixteen, grandfather passed away...

My father and uncle quarreled bitterly over the inheritance.

For a time, I lived at my uncle’s house, where he still treated me well—providing money and women...

Yet from then on, he never smiled at me again nor called me ‘Little Bean.’

I don’t know how my father and uncle settled matters, but after inheritance division, we still lived at Qingliang Mansion, with my father managing half the estate.

The outcome was good—I feared a fallout between father and uncle. After all, family is family; whether one gets more or less is inconsequential, as it’s impossible to spend it all.

Soon after the division, my father left, taking many with him, because our family clashed with another powerful clan. My uncle claimed only he could resolve the matter.

Before leaving, I remember my father saying, ‘I’m old now, you must grow up...’

I understood and began managing the family’s affairs, but compared with the dazzling singers, this work was dull and tedious—I neither understood nor was capable.

At eighteen, my father spent over a year resolving the clan conflict but was injured and died on the return to Qingliang Mansion.

Shortly after, my mother died suddenly at home.

In one night, it was as if I lost everything.

Former servants no longer respected me, whispering behind my back, feigning obedience; my father’s trusted aides died ‘of illness’ or distanced themselves, even began to bully and oppress me...

They all grew close to my uncle, obeying him slavishly, kneeling humbly like dogs.

I was furious, trying to regain control, but realized I had wasted too much time and lacked the strength to fight back.

But upon reflection, this was fortunate.

Because after my father’s death, I met my uncle once. From his gaze, I saw murderous intent...

Yet perhaps because I was so powerless and useless, his intent never became action.

I survived, still trapped in this endless family mansion.

But I’ve become a caged bird, to be watched and toyed with...

Even every meal I eat should be thanks to my uncle and my father’s former retainers, who still harbor some old affection.

Oh, and my father once told me my uncle was secretly searching for someone with the ‘Heaven’s Pardon’ fate, claiming this person could change the family’s fortune, but there were no leads...

Ha! Ridiculous. Grandfather was once a beggar and bandit, lived a harsh life, yet still built this great fortune.

The rise and fall of a clan is not determined by some so-called ‘Heaven’s Pardon’ person. It’s just the foolish notion of a cold old man.

Enough for now.

I am Zhu Zigui,

The last prince of the Great Qian Dynasty—the Prince of Huai!!!"

After the flood of memories ended, Ren Ye stood before the bronze mirror and suddenly opened his eyes wide. "Damn! The ‘Heaven’s Pardon’ person? They’re damn well looking for me!"