“Clang… clang… clang…”
“Dry winds and parched air—beware of fire!”
Clack, clack…
Damn it! Are they filming a historical drama up there or what?!
It’s the middle of the night—don’t people sleep?!
“Clang… clang…”
“Dry winds and parched air…”
Tsk! Are they addicted to that line or something?
Do they think I’m some sickly housecat just because I haven’t roared yet?!
With a swift flip, he sprang up like a carp leaping from water—
“Wah!”
The startled cry echoed through the darkness… though not loud enough to wake anyone except perhaps a nearby dog, whose ears twitched once before settling again.
Who the hell did this?!
Is this bed made of iron?!
Rubbing his numbed legs with one hand and his aching lower back with the other, the young man frowned deeply. Slowly, his lively black eyes opened.
Half awake and half dreaming, their usual clarity was clouded with a hazy softness that made him look oddly pitiful. His long, fan-shaped eyelashes fluttered like two tiny brushes as he blinked in confusion.
A single-story house… and not even a concrete roof.
Tiles.
Wooden beams.
A thatched hut.
And instead of streetlights… lanterns.
“Dry winds and parched air—beware of fire!”
Clack, clack…
The night watchman continued his diligent patrol.
“Smack!”
He slapped himself across the face.
It hurt.
He slapped himself again.
It really hurt.
“AAAAHHHH!!”
In a forgotten alley somewhere within the imperial capital of the Hua Dynasty, a heart-rending howl—remarkably similar to a pig being slaughtered—rang out.
Chickens crowed. Dogs barked. Several households along the street hurriedly lit their lamps.
Yet after a brief moment of commotion, the lights were extinguished again.
What kind of world was this?!
The young man stood there dumbfounded, even losing the strength to shout.
In modern times, Ning Xuan had never been some dazzling prodigy adored by millions. Nor was he a rich heir or an official’s son sought after by society.
But he had always been, at the very least, a refined and charming gentleman—graceful, handsome, and confident in his own appeal.
Granted… he had never quite made it to home base.
Even holding hands with a beauty or stealing a kiss was still stuck at the “in progress” stage.
Yet he had always believed firmly in his own charm.
And now…
Were ancient people always this cold and heartless?
Ning Xuan’s heart filled with bleak sorrow as he reached a bitter conclusion.
History books are fake science.
They polish everything until it shines.
Although it was summer, the night wind still carried a chilling bite. Ning Xuan shivered and tightened his collar.
The smooth texture beneath his fingers suddenly made him freeze.
He lowered his head slowly.
The cloth beneath his palm was fine silk.
What the hell?!
Are there so many transmigrators nowadays that the system has been upgraded?!
Or did I somehow have the foresight to change clothes before getting scared half to death?!
He looked down at his wide sleeves and long robes.
Where the hell did my jeans and T-shirt go?!
Why is it that every transmigrator ends up in a luxurious bed inside a noble household?
Or at worst becomes the young master of some martial alliance—or a cult leader?
Even the unlucky ones at least end up as someone’s bedwarmer… but at least they get a comfortable bed!
So why, when it’s my turn—
I wake up on this rock-hard filthy thing, with no blanket, no pillow, not even a proper night’s sleep—
And I’m woken up by a damn night watchman?!
Before he could continue lamenting, something cold beneath his sleeve caught his attention.
A small tag.
He read it.
“Ning… Xuan…?”
At first he didn’t understand.
But the moment he realized it was a name tag, his hair practically stood on end.
What the hell?!
Do they think I’m an idiot?!
Even if I transmigrated, how could I forget my own name?!
He pushed up his sleeves and stood.
The elegant posture that should have looked dashing and refined instead became clumsy and ridiculous thanks to the unfamiliar wide-sleeved robes.
“Hmph! A tiger fallen to the plains is bullied by dogs!”
He grumbled irritably.
“Now even a stupid piece of clothing is picking a fight with me!”
After only a few steps, he heard hurried footsteps from around the corner.
Curiosity immediately took hold.
After all, aside from those dried historical exhibits locked away in museums—or the actors he saw on television—he had never seen a living, breathing ancient person before.
Naturally, his curiosity surged.
Peeking around the corner, he saw two men rushing along the street.
One carried a large sack slung over his shoulder.
The other walked empty-handed but kept glancing around nervously, as if he had done something guilty.
“This is bad… really bad,” the empty-handed man muttered angrily, spitting to the side.
“We were supposed to deliver two virgins, but one of them escaped! Damn it—who knew that scrawny little bookish brat would have that kind of strength?”
He sighed gloomily.
“If we can’t find another one, the people in the Prince’s Manor won’t let us off easily.”
The other man laughed lightly despite the heavy sack on his shoulder.
“Brother, telling me that won’t help you. I sympathize, but I can’t solve your problem.”
His steps remained surprisingly light.
“I’ve only got two hands. Even if I wanted to help, this little thing here isn’t exactly easy to handle either.”
He punctuated his words by smacking the sack hard.
“Laugh it up,” the first man snapped bitterly.
“Fortune turns like a wheel. One day it’ll be your turn to suffer!”
The second man merely shrugged.
Both of them knew the truth.
They made their living selling human bodies.
It was a wicked trade—but when survival itself was uncertain, conscience was a luxury.
As long as they could live through today, tomorrow could wait.
Suddenly the sack-carrier noticed a figure standing near the entrance of the Jing Tai Cloth Shop.
Without warning, he kicked his companion in the back of the knee.
The man nearly stumbled over.
“What the hell was that for?!”
“Brother, I just saved your life—you should thank me,” the sack-carrier said, nodding toward the shadowy figure nearby.
Meanwhile, Ning Xuan leaned forward, stretching his neck and straining his ears.
Unfortunately, he could only catch fragments of their conversation.
He had no idea what they were talking about.
Damn it!
Bad hearing was one thing when listening to English—
but why was it happening with Chinese too?!
Is this what they call a generation gap?!
As the two men drew closer, Ling Xuan suddenly felt nervous.
Ancient people had endless etiquette and strange customs.
What if they started speaking classical Chinese the moment they opened their mouths?
Should he pretend to be deaf?
Or just run?
“Ha! Heaven truly hasn’t abandoned me!”
When the man approached and saw him clearly, excitement lit up his face.
He rubbed his hands eagerly.
“Little brother… are you alone?”
…
Why was it that after finally transmigrating to ancient times—
the first thing that happened was getting hit on by a man?
Futile Devices Scans 
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