TSMDH 1
Chapter 1 – The Marriage
“I still have a betrothal?”
The Great Jing Empire had stood for two hundred years, but in recent times, internal unrest and external threats had grown increasingly frequent, and the number of displaced commoners soared.
In the winter of the 31st year of Yanping, the border county of Wuping was abandoned. The Iron Cavalry of the Heichi Tribe swept through, burning, killing, and looting until only one out of ten homes remained inhabited.
In desolate places, one could not see the end of suffering; in prosperous ones, pleasures were too many to count.
"Second Uncle, steamed buns," whispered the child on Geng Yao's back, no older than five.
Ning'an County bordered Fengluo Prefecture, which lay adjacent to the capital. Thus, Ning'an County flourished like blooming brocade, with merchants constantly coming and going.
From Wuping to Ning’an, the Geng family of seven traveled from winter into summer. Fortunately, they made it back. Compared to war-torn Wuping, this place was heaven. Geng Mother wiped her tears. The five-year-old Hou Ge’er looked timid, speaking even more softly in this unfamiliar environment.
“Mother, your grandson wants steamed buns,” said Geng Yao.
The cries of peddlers on both sides of the street were melodic. A smiling vendor, round like a Buddha, lifted the steamer lid to reveal large, steaming buns.
The harsh conditions at the border had aged Geng Mother. Though only in her fifties, her hair had turned gray from hardship. She took out silver coins and bought twenty vegetable buns. The family gathered by a wall to eat them.
Standing to eat their buns, the seven of them drew wary glances. It wasn’t just their travel-worn appearances—three of the four men were tall and brawny, and one even had a shaved head. Though appearing only in his early twenties, people considered it a sign of grave unfilial behavior.
Traditionally, one’s body and hair were gifts from one’s parents and should not be cut lightly. The shaved-head man looked utterly out of place.
Geng Mother shot Geng Yao a glare. He rubbed his head, feeling wronged. It wasn’t like he had a choice.
Geng Yao had been born in a modern world where spiritual energy had revived. He had disliked restrictions and become a wandering cultivator. But who could’ve guessed he’d transmigrate into an ancient world with no spiritual energy or cultivators?
When the original ten-year-old host drowned, Geng Yao had crossed over. At first, he still retained his spiritual power. However, as if the heavens had discovered a loophole, they began punishing him for meddling in mortal affairs.
If he used spiritual power to heal or kill, it would bring immense pain, and his dantian would be drained. Geng Yao discovered that even without using it, his spiritual energy would still gradually dissipate—just at a slower rate.
On the way back to Ning’an, fearing robbery, the Gengs had hidden their wealth. Geng Yao caught a wild rabbit in the mountains. Just as he picked up a knife to hand it to his father, a thunderbolt struck him squarely and chased him for five li, completely burning away his remaining spiritual energy.
He touched his buzzcut. Well, at least it was practical—though in this era, it really stood out.
The lightning did bring one advantage: he could now kill animals, meaning he could learn the family’s pig-slaughtering trade.
After eating, they visited a housing agent. It took three days to settle down.
Over the years, the Gengs had saved quite a bit, especially thanks to a ginseng Geng Yao had dug up. They hoped to buy a courtyard house. But housing prices had risen, and they were thirty taels short.
The agent suggested borrowing from Jianshan Temple—with interest, of course.
After weighing the options and asking around, Geng Father and Mother agreed. The agent brought a monk from the temple, and Geng Father signed the loan agreement.
The courtyard was not small. Besides the main hall, it had four rooms, a kitchen, a woodshed, and a small storefront that could be used to sell pork.
“Eldest son, wear your new clothes and don’t scowl. Speak politely,” Geng Mother instructed.
The eldest, Geng Wu, had served as a constable in Wuping. Before the city fell, the Gengs had planned to return home. The Wuping magistrate, who had always admired Geng Wu and had ties to the Ning’an magistrate, had written a letter of recommendation.
Today, Geng Wu planned to visit the county office and test his luck.
In the courtyard stood an apricot tree. Geng Yao picked a fruit and said, “My big brother has a face like stone. Polite speech from him? Yeah, right.”
He turned to Hui Niang, who was adjusting Geng Wu’s clothes. “Sister-in-law, does my brother ever say anything nice to you?”
Blushing, she fled into the kitchen.
Geng Mother scolded, “And you’re better? At least your brother married Hui Niang. Your younger brother’s gentle face doesn’t follow our family’s fierce looks. I only worry about you—might not even land a wife!”
The Gengs had three sons: the eldest Geng Wu, a constable; the youngest Geng Wen, a scholar who had passed the xiucai exam; and the useless middle one—Geng Yao.
All he wanted was to slaughter pigs and inherit the family business. Geng Father and Mother nearly coughed up blood. To them, butchering pigs was no legacy.
They often lamented naming him poorly—should’ve named him Geng Guan or something more promising.
Geng Yao muttered, “You’ve only got yourselves to blame. You went to the border and picked up a daughter-in-law for my brother. Why not pick one up for me?”
Hui Niang had been an orphan. Geng Father and Mother had pitied her and taken her in. She later married Geng Wu, and they had a son named Hou Ge’er.
Geng Wu left, and Geng Mother examined Geng Yao again. Displeased with his dog-bitten haircut, she said, “You stay home. Your father and I will go.”
Geng Yao: “Sigh.”
They changed into clean clothes, and since Hou Ge’er clung to their legs, they brought him along.
“Where are you going?”
“To cancel your engagement.”
Geng Yao grabbed Geng Wen. “What did Mother say?”
“She said she’s going to cancel your engagement.”
“I have a betrothal?”
“Apparently. Never heard of it either.”
Ning’an bustled. After asking around, the Gengs arrived at a residence but avoided the main gate, going to a side entrance.
“Young sir, we’re from the Geng family. May we speak with your master?”
Though dressed in their best, their clothes paled compared to the gatekeeper’s. They grew even more uneasy.
“Which Geng family?” he asked. There was no notable Geng family in Ning’an.
Geng Father and Mother hesitated, then Geng Mother pulled out a bright green jade pendant. “Master Yan gave this to us years ago. We’ve come to return it.”
The servant, recognizing its value, carefully examined it and went to report.
After a long wait, Master Yan himself arrived, laughing heartily. “Is that Brother and Sister Geng? You’ve returned at last?”
Startled, they were ushered inside.
“Prepare a proper meal—we have honored guests,” he told the steward.
“No, we can’t impose...” Geng Mother tried.
“You’re the honored guests I speak of—none other,” Master Yan said with a grin.
He had met Geng Mother only once, nineteen years ago, and had never even seen Geng Father. But he was a skilled businessman and conversationalist, quickly putting them at ease.
He chuckled, “How’s that fine nephew of mine? Why didn’t he come today? Still betrothed to my dear Ayao, I hope?”
Geng Father quickly said, “He’s not married yet!”
Geng Mother tugged at her sleeve, awkward. “Truth is, Master Yan, our family now...”
While the adults talked, Hou Ge’er munched on fruit. A girl in a light yellow dress waved to him and led him outside. Moments later, she ran off toward Qingting Garden.
“Master! Something terrible has happened!”
It was the height of summer. Cicadas chirped as servants caught them quietly so as not to disturb their young master’s nap.
Reclining on a chaise, Yan Yao looked like a painting—skin like jade, brows like ink. His beauty made people wish to win just one smile.
Hearing her shout, he opened his dreamy eyes. He looked frail, like a flower trembling in the wind.
“What is it?”
“You’ve been betrothed, Master!” said Qiuyu, flustered.
“To which family’s young master?”
“That’s just it—it’s not a young master. It’s a butcher!”
Yan Yao sipped his tea. “Calm down. Start from the beginning.”
Qiuyu, nearly in tears, spilled the whole tale, though it took him a while to piece it together.
Nineteen years ago, Master Yan and his pregnant wife visited a temple. A sudden thunderstorm forced them to shelter. They helped a peasant woman in labor and brought her to a nearby cave.
After her baby boy was born, Master Yan laughed and, in jest, pointed to his wife’s belly, saying, “If we have a child of our own, they shall marry!” He even gave a jade pendant as a token.
Yan Yao: ...Was his father insane?
Soon after, the peasant family vanished from Ning’an, only recently returning. Remembering the “engagement,” they brought back the token to cancel it, explaining they now earned a living as butchers.
But instead of letting it go, Master Yan was delighted, hosted them warmly, skipped all formalities, and exchanged birth characters.
Yan Yao looked in the mirror. With his face, he wasn’t exactly struggling for marriage prospects.
To throw him to a butcher—how humiliating for the Yan family.
Qiuyu gritted her teeth. “And guess why that butcher didn’t show today?”
“Why?”
“He was struck by lightning.”
Yan Yao: ???
“He was chased by thunderbolts for five li. A kid told me his second uncle has no hair now and can’t be seen in public.”
“Master, how much sin must someone commit to be chased by lightning?”
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