Chapter One: Crossing into the Great Qian Dynasty, In an Age of Famine, Only Scavenging in the Mountains Can Fill One’s Stomach

A thick layer of withered yellow leaves blanketed the ground, crunching underfoot with each careful step. Chu Feng moved cautiously, prodding the fallen leaves ahead with a stick from time to time. On his feet were a pair of coarse cloth shoes—barely enough to cover them, offering scant protection. Should a venomous insect or snake from the mountain bite him, it might well cost him his life.

It was already November, and this seemed to be the northernmost edge of Great Qian. Though winter had not yet arrived, the cold was already bone-chilling, with snow soon to fall. Ordinarily, at this time of year, Chu Feng ought to be at home with his wife and daughter, warming themselves by the fire. But there was no food left in the house. His little girl wailed with hunger, and his wife was so thin she was little more than skin and bones. Since his arrival in this world, his family had not eaten for two days. If they did not find something to eat soon, they might not survive even this day.

Helpless, in this unfamiliar place, Chu Feng shouldered a bamboo basket, took up a short-handled hoe, and headed up the mountain, hoping to gather some wild greens to stave off starvation.

The mountain was utterly silent, tranquility pressing in from all sides. Villagers called this place the Unlucky Mountain. Even in the depths of famine, none dared set foot here lightly. Once, an old hunter from another village had ventured up and never returned; when he was found, his innards were gone. No one knew whether it was the work of wolves and tigers or bandits lurking in the woods. Had hunger not become so desperate, Chu Feng would never have risked coming here.

A small white dog bounded over, barking loudly at Chu Feng. The little pup was not yet grown, its breed unknown to Chu Feng—only that it had been with him since his arrival in this world. He had named the dog Silly. Silly was still a mischievous pup, tugging stubbornly at the hem of Chu Feng’s trousers before darting off, its joyful yelps soon echoed by the clear, bell-like laughter of a little girl. Their merriment brought a rare lightness to the heavy hush of the mountain.

Chu Feng turned, his gaze soft with warmth. In his former life, he had been an outdoor livestreamer, his broadcasts centered around wilderness survival deep in the mountains. He possessed a wealth of knowledge about flora and fauna. Yet, after years of tempting fate, fate had finally turned on him. During a stream in an uncharted forest, a wild boar had knocked him off a cliff. When he next opened his eyes, he found himself in this new era—the Great Qian Dynasty, a name he had never heard in any history book.

The original Chu Feng, whose body he now inhabited, had married young and fathered a five-year-old daughter.

But fate was not so kind. Famine struck the village. His parents favored his elder brother’s family, for they had a grandson, while Chu Feng had only a daughter. When dividing houses, the smallest and most dilapidated fell to him; when sharing food, only enough for one person was allotted—far from sufficient for three. The bitter cold and lack of sustenance left the original Chu Feng with a severe illness, and he did not survive, leaving Chu Feng to take his place.

There was little time to lament the poor fortune of his new family. One look at his wife and daughter’s pitiful faces, and Chu Feng knew he could not turn away. Since he had assumed another’s life, he would raise their wife and child, repaying the chance to live again.

The mountain teemed with resources, untouched by modern machinery or tools—vast, wild, and uncultivated, much like the forests he had once broadcast from. Thankfully, his expertise as an outdoorsman served him well; without it, he would have been utterly lost, doomed when the snows came and the temperature plummeted.

Yet even so, he was far from confident. In this utterly foreign world, he could not be sure which species were the same. And this was only the mountain’s edge—if there were wild greens here, they had likely been picked over already. Just as Chu Feng was about to despair, he caught sight of his first prize.

Shepherd’s purse! He had not expected to see it here, so conspicuous a splash of green on the barren earth. Rare at this season, for though it was hardy, it preferred the spring. Yet Chu Feng wasted no time pondering—the ache of hunger in his belly drove him to dig at once. He thought of shepherd’s purse buns, dumplings, and savory pancakes...

But the season had taken its toll; only three plants could be found nearby—hardly enough. He pressed on, searching for more.

“You silly thing! How dare you bite me!” came a child’s indignant cry. Behind him, a little girl swaddled in thick furs and rough cloth glared fiercely at the white puppy, who barked right back, unafraid. The two of them chased each other around Chu Feng’s legs.

He had not wanted to bring his daughter along—her frail health made him fear the cold. In this place, where food and clothing were scarce and medicine all but nonexistent, a cold could mean death. But she had followed him in secret, and in the end, he could only let her stay close.

“Slow down, don’t fall!” Chu Feng called, but the two were lost in their game. He shook his head, unable to muster the heart to scold her, and returned his gaze to the ground.

Soon, he found another wild plant—black nightshade, a common weed with black berries that grew year-round. Its leaves were poisonous, but if blanched in boiling water, the toxins would be destroyed, making them perfect for a cold salad. Yet in all the area, he found but a single plant. It would not be easy to survive this winter—he could not really eat tree bark, after all.

“Daddy, I’m hungry.” Tired from chasing the puppy, his little girl came to his side, clinging to his leg with a pitiful plea.

Chu Feng stroked her soft hair. “Be patient, Miaomiao. Once I find more wild greens, I’ll trade them in town for money and buy you something delicious!”

“Really? I want to eat meat!”

“Of course, we’ll have meat,” Chu Feng promised with a smile.

“Let’s eat Silly first, then!” she declared, pouncing on the puppy while it was distracted.

Chu Feng could only laugh and kept searching. At last, behind a large stone, he found another black nightshade plant.

He remembered that the original Chu Feng had once visited the town. But life there was just as harsh—this was the far north, a land plagued by war. Years of conflict had devastated the town’s economy. Grain now cost five taels of silver per bushel; meat, eggs, and milk were luxuries reserved for landlords and officials. The townsfolk were little better off than the villagers, many already going hungry. Refugees had begun to gather outside the town, and soon the wild tribes from beyond the border would attack the frontier city. When that day came, survival would be even harder. Wild greens would fetch little money—perhaps they would be stolen before they could be sold. Promising his daughter meat was only a kind comfort.

Just as Chu Feng prepared to dig once more, a piercing yelp from Silly shattered the stillness, followed by Miaomiao’s shrill scream. Without a second thought, Chu Feng seized his hoe and rushed toward his daughter.