Chapter One: Transcended

At 1:43 a.m. on Saturday, Su Yuan, who had just taken a taxi home from the company, shrugged off his jacket and shoes and crawled straight into bed. Recently, a sudden urgent demand from their client had forced Su Yuan’s team to work overtime day and night for more than half a month. As a junior employee, Su Yuan naturally bore the brunt of the hardship. But at last, today’s delivery was complete, and the company, showing some humanity, had granted an extra day off to those who had worked over ten consecutive days.

On his way home from work, Su Yuan had already made plans: to catch up on sleep during the day on Saturday, stroll through the nearby university town’s food street in the evening, and then continue developing his own game at night. On Sunday, he’d go to the library to read “Seven Weapons” by Gu Long. As for the additional day off on Monday, he’d cook a couple of dishes for himself in the morning with a couple of drinks, rest in the afternoon, and prepare for the new week.

Lying in bed, Su Yuan opened a short video app and scrolled a few times, watching scantily clad women sway their alluring bodies to catchy music. Living alone for so long, Su Yuan found a faint comfort in these videos.

Drowsiness swept over him like water, and Su Yuan could no longer resist. He vaguely heard a voice from his phone: “Sometimes one must take shelter under the eaves, bear a little frost and snow, and then wipe it clean for spring. One day, I’ll bring good wine, and you’ll carry your sword. The world is vast; the noise on the table is always from copper coins, but what’s pressed beneath the bowl is true poetry…”

Ring, ring, ring…

Su Yuan was startled awake by an alarm. He glanced outside—the sky was still dark. Then he remembered he was off today, decisively turned off the alarm, and went back to sleep.

He usually set his alarm for 5:30 a.m. to get up for work at 8:30, letting it ring every half hour until the fourth time—7:00—when he would get up to wash. At 7:20, he’d squeeze onto the subway, and after about an hour, arrive at the company, grabbing some buns or a savory pancake for breakfast at a nearby stall.

Su Yuan slept until the afternoon and woke up with his head heavy and dizzy, his stomach growling with hunger. He decided to rummage through the fridge for a quick bite before heading out to the food street later for a proper meal.

He tried to open the fridge, but after several attempts, the door refused to budge. Suddenly, the sound of an airplane rumbled overhead. Su Yuan found this odd—he lived downtown, so why would a plane be flying so low? Born in the north, he used to get excited as a child when a plane passed overhead, barely glimpsing its outline. But after moving south for work and commuting daily by subway, such things had long since lost their novelty.

Following the sound, Su Yuan looked out the window—and was startled. The window seemed to have grown larger, and the view was suddenly vast, though he remembered his window being quite small. Before he could think further, a large passenger plane, trailing thick smoke, was hurtling straight toward him, as if deliberately aiming for him.

Su Yuan had no time to dodge before he was jolted awake. The sky outside was still dark. On his phone, a short video was reporting a car accident. He glanced at the time: only 3:40 a.m. So, he’d only slept a little over an hour, and the earlier alarm must have been part of his dream. Drenched in cold sweat from the nightmare, Su Yuan turned off his phone and went back to sleep.

“Xiao Su, wake up! Xiao Su! Oh, my child, I didn’t take good care of you! Please wake up, Xiao Su!” A woman’s wailing pierced Su Yuan’s ears. He kept his eyes shut, thinking, “You’ve got to be kidding—didn’t I just fall asleep? Another dream already?”

He had no intention of opening his eyes, but the shrill cries from beside him were impossible to ignore. Xiao Su? His own mother always called him Xiao Yuan. Unable to stand the racket, Su Yuan snapped his eyes open, only to find the face of a plump woman before him. She appeared to be about thirty-five, nothing like his own dark, thin mother.

Behind that large face, Su Yuan saw wooden beams overhead. As the woman noticed he was awake, she broke into a smile through her tears and turned to a middle-aged man standing at the bedside, hands clasped behind his back. “Brother Xiang, I really must thank you for pulling Xiao Su out of the water. If not for you, I’d have nothing left to hope for in this life…” she sobbed.

Su Yuan glanced at the man. He was tall, dressed in a blue robe, with a darker blue sash at his waist—exactly like the commoners rescued by the protagonist in historical dramas. After comforting the sobbing woman, the man quietly left the room.

Staring at the plump woman in her pink linen dress, Su Yuan muttered, “Damn, did I just dream myself back to ancient times?”