The dizziness receded like a tide pulling back from the shore. Long Xuan's fingers clutched the family genealogy so tightly they had gone pale, the knuckles tinged blue from the strain, his breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts. Slowly, the world around him came into focus—but there was nothing familiar. No glittering skyscrapers, no neat asphalt streets. Only a rutted dirt road, flanked by piles of tattered cloth, splintered wood, and broken clay pots. The wind whipped up clouds of dust, carrying a faint stench of mildew and livestock, making him cough.
In the distance, a cluster of low, crumbling houses came into view. Roof tiles were missing, patched here and there with yellowing straw. The walls, battered by years of wind and rain, were mottled and peeling, revealing bricks mixed with earth, chewed away by time. Occasionally, rough shouts, animal cries, and the labored panting of cart drivers punctuated the air. Every sound carried the weight of a harsh, bottom-tier life, pricking Long Xuan's nerves like tiny, relentless needles.
He looked down at himself. He wore a coarse linen robe, stiff and scratchy, itching at the neck and arms. The cuffs were patched crudely with crooked stitches, a world apart from the comfortable clothes he had worn before. Instinctively, he checked his pocket—the yellowed, brittle genealogy book was still there. His fingertips brushed over the blurred characters, and the ancient, solemn voice echoed in his mind: "Change your ancestors' choices in marriage. Improve the family's genes. Only then can your destiny be rewritten."
At that moment, a tall, stooped figure passed by, instantly drawing his attention. The man wore a faded, patched short jacket, the collar worn through, exposing a dark, rough neck. Dust clung to his clothes as if he had rolled in the mud. Deep lines carved into his face like the cuts of a merciless blade, and the corners of his eyes were rimmed with dirt. His gaze was tired and empty, as if he had long since surrendered to the world.
In his hand, he led a gaunt, skeletal animal, its fur tangled, ribs visible. Each step it took was feeble, as if treading on cotton, and the man's own steps were just as labored. Long Xuan's heart jolted; his fingers instinctively tightened on the genealogy, nearly crumpling its edges. This face—he realized—bore a striking resemblance to one of his ancestors in the book. The honest, clumsy expression in the eyebrows and eyes, the slightly drooping mouth, even the awkward gait—it mirrored him.
He understood instantly. This was his first stop, one of his ancestors: Long Li. And here he was, living at the very bottom, struggling like a weed in a storm, unnoticed, survival itself a luxury. Long Xuan silently followed, keeping his steps light, careful not to alert him. First, he needed to understand Long Li's life, then find a way to help him secure a suitable partner and fulfill his mission.
Long Li led the animal to a crude doorway, no proper gate—just a weathered wooden beam. The courtyard was low and shabby, walls mottled and crumbling, some sections collapsed entirely, propped up with sticks, as if a gust of wind could bring it down. Inside, several old wooden carts stood, shafts scratched and wheels warped, dust thick upon them.
Around the gate, a few ragged men stood, heads down, hands tucked in sleeves, shoulders hunched, speaking in hushed tones full of resignation. Their clothes were as threadbare as Long Li's, patched and worn, faces etched with hardship. Their eyes held no sparkle—only compromise, only despair. They were cart drivers like Long Li, exchanging labor for meager earnings, crushed under life's weight, too beaten to lift their heads.
Long Xuan hid in the shadow of a wall, observing. Gradually, he pieced together Long Li's reality. This was a laborers' depot, owned by a man surnamed Zhou, notorious for cunning and cruelty. He saw only money and exploited his drivers without mercy. Renting a cart took the bulk of their daily earnings; even on rainy days with no passengers, the rent could not be reduced. A misstep brought scolding, sometimes even a beating. There was no humanity here.
Long Li left before dawn, returned long after dusk, his body aching, muscles sore, barely able to lift his hands, yet only earning enough to survive on coarse grains. On unlucky days, when he could not find passengers, he went hungry.
His greatest wish was simple: to save enough money to buy his own cart, to stop paying rent, to live by his own strength, and finally live a dignified life, free from Zhou's scrutiny. Often, he whispered to his rented cart with longing and frustration: "I just want to earn enough to buy my own cart, to live properly, to look at no one's face. Is that so wrong? Why is even this simple wish so hard?"
For this, he pushed himself to the limits, treating his body like a tireless machine. At dawn, while others slept, he was already on the streets, braving biting cold, weaving through alleys. Rain or shine, summer or winter, he never rested.
Once, in a torrential downpour, the sky dark and oppressive, rain pummeling him, streets muddy and treacherous, he trudged through, shoes caked in thick mud, dragging a picky passenger. His thin jacket clung to him, soaked, shivering, feet blistered, every step stabbing with pain.
The passenger barked, wrapped in thick clothing: "Why so slow? Can't you walk faster? You haven't eaten, have you? If you delay me, can you pay for it? If the time is missed, I won't give you a cent, and Zhou will dock your pay!"
Gritting his teeth, Long Li's pale lips rasped: "I'm sorry, sir. I'll go faster, I won't delay you!"
That day, he returned covered in mud, shivering, lips purple, without a warm meal. He curled up by the cart, pulling out a cold chunk of coarse grain. It was dry, hard, scraping his throat, yet he ate carefully, as if it were the most exquisite food in the world. His eyes filled with despair, tears mixing with rain and mud, dripping to the ground, instantly soaked into the earth.
Long Xuan crouched in the corner, watching Long Li's suffering, his chest tightening with helplessness and anxiety.
Yet, seeing him struggle in this broken environment, a deep determination surged within Long Xuan. Silent, clumsy, hardworking, dusty and exhausted, barely able to meet his basic needs—how could he hope to find a beautiful companion? Resolutely, Long Xuan decided to remain by his side under the guise of a distant relative, helping him while secretly searching for a suitable girl.