Chapter 1: The Criminal Rescued by Miss Cao

Solemn Statement: This book does not have only one female protagonist.

“Ow! My head hurts...”

Chen Cong rolled over, groping in vain for his blanket, and opened his eyes in a daze.

Blink. Blink again. Harder this time.

Sunlight streamed through an old wooden window. By the doorway, firewood was stacked in neat piles. Five huge rice jars stood in a row, and along the eastern wall were more than a hundred cabbages. In the corner, a heap of winnowing baskets, brooms, and brushes lay scattered.

“Where am I?”

Chen Cong massaged his throbbing temples, searching his memory...

Yesterday, after drinking heavily at his graduation party...

And then... nothing. A total blackout.

Kidnapping?

He was a poor student who had just graduated—no reason for that.

A prank?

Unlikely. At six foot two and a solid one hundred seventy pounds, who would bother hauling a drunken giant like him for a joke?

Maybe he wandered into a rural guesthouse after too much to drink?

No, that didn’t make sense either—the city outskirts were thirty or forty kilometers away, impossible to reach on foot.

Creak!

As Chen Cong pondered his fate, the woodshed door opened and a girl carrying a wooden basin entered.

She looked about fourteen or fifteen, with delicate features and a fine brocade skirt. Seeing Chen Cong awake, her face lit up with delight.

“You’re awake. Come eat.”

Only after she set the wooden basin on the floor did Chen Cong see it was filled to the brim with thin porridge.

Noticing his confusion, the girl crouched beside him and said, “Don’t be nervous. My name is Zhihua, maidservant to the eldest miss of the Cao household. You fainted yesterday—my lady saved you.”

Chen Cong grew even more bewildered.

The room’s furnishings were odd, and this girl named Zhihua was even more so.

Who introduces themselves as someone’s personal maid? What was this, some ancient drama?

“This is from my lady.”

Zhihua handed him a wooden tablet, fragrant with sandalwood, two strings of wind chimes tinkling from it—clear and melodious.

A glance—

The tablet was inscribed with what looked like Chinese characters...

“What does it say?”

Zhihua replied coolly, “Sold into servitude.”

“What?” Chen Cong was stunned.

Was she out of her mind? A bowl of porridge and he was to be sold as a slave?

Seeing his dumbfounded expression, Zhihua’s playful side emerged. She leaned closer and whispered, “Don’t worry. My master is quite influential. Once you become a household slave of the Cao family, the officials outside won’t trouble you.”

“Like hell they won’t!” Chen Cong’s mind was a jumble as he fumed.

He glanced at the tablet, then at Zhihua, who was nearly nose to nose with him. “Wait, why would the officers want to trouble me?”

Zhihua pointed at his head. “You’re a convict punished with the tonsure—how could the officials not trouble you?”

Tonsure punishment?

Since when did a center parting earn you a criminal’s shaven head? He wasn’t wearing suspenders, was he?

Rolling his eyes, Chen Cong tugged at his rough linen clothes in disgust. “Where are my original clothes?”

“When we found you yesterday, your clothes were in tatters. Out of kindness, the young miss had the servants fetch you something to wear. The rags were thrown out, of course.”

Chen Cong sorted out a thread of clarity.

This Zhihua was probably suffering from a severe case of split personality, playing cosplay with him.

This sort of thing happened at college from time to time.

Ah, the burdens of being handsome.

Recalling lines from period dramas, Chen Cong rose and cupped his hands. “I shall never forget the young miss’s life-saving grace. Once I’ve settled my aged mother at home, I’ll return to repay the debt.”

Before Zhihua could react, he dashed out of the woodshed.

...

The courtyard was filled with elegant pavilions and towers, floral scents wafting through the air, streams winding artfully.

Chen Cong had no interest in admiring the scenery. He quickly scanned the area, found the side gate, and sprinted towards it.

But the moment he flung open the gate, he was dumbstruck.

No skyscrapers, no roaring traffic, no internet celebrities taking street photos, no neon-lit nightlife.

What met his eyes—

Was a cityscape of grand, imposing wooden buildings, rising and falling with the terrain as far as he could see.

The stone-paved avenue was nearly ten meters wide. Occasionally, a carriage would race by, forcing pedestrians to scatter.

Crowds swarmed through the streets, bustling with prosperity.

Half the men wore long robes and caps, the laborers in rough linen. Most women wore deep gowns, some in straight robes or skirted outfits. Children chased each other, and street vendors hawked their wares.

It was as if he’d wandered into a dream of the Han or Tang dynasty—a living, ancient metropolis.

Could it be... he had traveled through time?

Chen Cong shook his head, refusing to entertain such a ludicrous thought.

“Uncle, where is this? May I borrow your phone?”

The passing man glanced at Chen Cong, then hurried away.

“Miss, excuse me—”

“Ugh, bad luck.”

As Chen Cong tried to ask more, three or four burly men emerged to push him aside.

Unconvinced, Chen Cong stopped several more people, but every outcome was the same: they avoided him, insulted him, or mocked him outright.

Finally, a drunken scholar gave him a shocking truth—one must never harm their body or hair, for it is a gift from one’s parents, the beginning of filial piety.

Turning another corner, Chen Cong even saw armored cavalry patrolling the streets.

A general, upon spotting him, reined his horse around.

The chill of a sword blade slapped against his face. In that instant, Chen Cong finally accepted reality.

It seemed—just maybe—he really had traveled through time.

“Daring to wander the city with a shaven head—how dare such a criminal act so brazenly?”

The general was nearly two meters tall, broad-shouldered and powerfully built. Astride his great horse, his face was as dark as water, eyes long and narrow, fierce as a predator sizing up its prey—the pressure was suffocating.

Chen Cong opened his mouth, then bowed his head. “I am a household slave of the Cao family.”

“Cao family?” The general pointed at him and shouted to the cavalry behind, “He’s using the Cao family as a shield!”

Instantly, the crowd burst into laughter.

When the laughter died down, the general spat twice, put his sword away, and cursed, “That treacherous house breeds nothing but cunning slaves! Just another filthy wretch clinging to power. Seize him!”

At his command, the cavalry dismounted, ropes in hand, to arrest him.

The general’s sneer and the soldiers’ ridicule seemed to freeze time.

Until the moment Chen Cong’s palm slammed down hard on the horse’s neck.

Bang!

With a heavy thud, the horse’s neck caved in, sending the rider flying seven or eight meters before he landed, blood gushing from his lips, unmoving.

The general tumbled off, lost his sword and helmet, his hair now covered in dust and dirt.

‘Since when was I this strong?’

No time to dwell on it—Chen Cong dodged the crowd and sprinted back towards the Cao residence.

By the time the soldiers recovered, helping the general to his feet, they found him unconscious, face ashen.

“That... that Cao household slave—do we chase him?”

“You think you can take him down?”

“But...”

“But what? The Cao family master is a favorite of the Grand Tutor. He’s not someone little people like us can afford to offend.”

“Exactly, we can’t afford that. Better wait for the general to wake up and handle it himself.”

...

Chen Cong dashed back to the Cao mansion, found the side gate unbolted, and slipped inside.

The household servants, seeing him running wild, didn’t bother to stop him.

In the woodshed, Zhihua was still squatting, doodling in the dirt, the porridge steaming hot in the basin.

Chen Cong burst in, grabbed the basin, and gulped it down.

Delicious—he’d never tasted porridge so fragrant!

Though, admittedly, it was rather bland.

“You said ‘tonsure punishment’ meant shaving the head as a penalty?”

“Yes.”

“And who is your master?”

“The Cavalry Commandant, Cao Cao.”

Pfft!

Rice sprayed from his mouth, but Chen Cong was too shocked to care.

If the Jade Emperor and the Buddha both loved lollipops and Pleasant Goat, then—

The late Han dynasty!

This... was going to be a problem.