His consciousness slowly rose from a thick darkness, like a drowning man finally breaking through the surface.
Pei Cijing opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was an unfamiliar ceiling—white and smooth, with a simple flush-mounted light in the center and soft, warm-yellow light strips around it.
The light wasn’t harsh.
But it was bright enough for him to see everything around him clearly.
He was lying on a bed.
Not an ancient four-poster bed or canopy bed, but a modern hospital bed—the kind that could be raised and lowered, came with guardrails, and had all sorts of instruments at the headboard whose names he couldn’t identify.
The faint smell of disinfectant hung in the air. Beside him, a machine emitted a soft, regular beep—monotonous and unchanging.
Pei Cijing’s mind was a complete blank.
Where the hell had they dragged him this time?
He tried to remember, but his memories were like a jigsaw puzzle that had been scattered into pieces. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t put them together.
He vaguely remembered that—
He had lived for a very long time.
One hundred and twenty-eight years.
At the age of one hundred and twenty-eight, he was unquestionably a supercentenarian.
Even the emperor would have to bow to him in hopes of borrowing some of his good fortune and living a couple of years longer. If this had happened in the modern era, the evening news would surely have described him with the words, “The elderly man is in excellent spirits, with a clear and lucid mind.”
But none of that was important.
What mattered was this:
He and his Wife had been married for a full one hundred and ten years.
From the bloom of youth to heads of white hair, from love at first sight to staying together until their hair turned white, one hundred and ten years had passed. It was neither long nor short—long enough for several generations to be born, grow up, and grow old, and long enough for the two of them to carve each other’s faces into their bones, blend them into their blood, and carry them with them into the next life.
But—
His Wife had gone first.
The day after their one-hundred-and-tenth wedding anniversary, his Wife had quietly passed away in her sleep. There had been no pain, no struggle. Even the smile on her face had not faded, as if she had merely fallen asleep—only this time, she would never wake up again.
One hundred and eight seconds after his Wife’s passing, he had swallowed his final breath as well.
It wasn’t an illness.
It wasn’t an injury.
It wasn’t some sudden cardiovascular or cerebrovascular accident.
He had simply missed her too much. He had wanted to go find her. At one hundred and twenty-eight, he had lived long enough—truly long enough. Without his Wife, every additional day was agony, and every extra second was unnecessary.
So he had swallowed his last breath without the slightest hesitation.
His consciousness had fallen into a long, boundless darkness.
By all rights, at that moment he should have been lying side by side with his Wife in their graves, waiting for their children and grandchildren to finish crying and burying them before going off to get on with their lives.
So how had he ended up here?
Pei Cijing turned his head and surveyed his surroundings.
The hospital room was spacious.
So spacious that it didn’t resemble an ordinary hospital room at all.
The bed he was lying on was the most advanced medical care bed, while a bouquet of flowers sat on the bedside table, droplets of dew still clinging to the petals. It had clearly been replaced today.
Against the wall stood a set of dark-brown leather sofas that looked soft and comfortable. Beside them was a coffee table bearing an exquisite tea set. The bookshelf nearby was filled with several magazines and a tablet computer.
The curtains were blackout curtains, and at present only half of them had been drawn open. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm patch of light across the floor.
Through the window, he could vaguely make out the outlines of high-rise buildings and, in the distance, a lush green park.
Pei Cijing stared out the window for quite some time.
A long-lost feeling—both unfamiliar and familiar—came surging over him.
It was unfamiliar because he had not seen a sight like this in more than a century. It was familiar because he had once lived in an environment like this for over twenty years, seeing scenes like it every day.
This was the modern world.
Without a doubt, it was modern.
And judging by the hospital room’s amenities, the outline of the high-rise building outside, and the orderly park in the distance—so neat it looked as though it had been measured with a ruler—
This was no ordinary hospital.
It was the kind of top-tier hospital that ordinary people couldn’t afford and even the wealthy had to queue to get into.
Pei Cijing slowly sat up.
Sensation returned to his body bit by bit. His limbs were somewhat stiff, and his muscles felt weak and sore, as though he had been lying still for a very long time.
Then he remembered something.
He had once exchanged the ultimate prize on the Gossip System.
What exactly it was, he didn’t know.
The system had only labeled it as a “surprise beyond imagination.”
At the time, he had saved up for ages before finally accumulating one hundred thousand gossip points. He had thrown them all in at once, after which the system swallowed the points and never responded again.
He had thought he’d been scammed.
He had cursed the system in his heart for years.
Eventually, he had grown too lazy even to curse it anymore, deciding to treat it as a tuition fee for stupidity and a lesson learned the hard way.
But now—
Pei Cijing looked around the luxurious hospital room, then out at the modern city skyline beyond the window. Suddenly, he felt that perhaps the tuition fee had not been wasted after all.
The so-called ultimate prize was not something else. It was—
The chance to transmigrate once more.
Pei Cijing got out of bed.
The instant his feet touched the floor, a cool sensation traveled through them, so real that his toes curled unconsciously.
He stood up and stretched his body.
His arms, shoulders, waist, back, thighs—every muscle felt as though it had been left unused for a long time. They were stiff and weak, unable to exert much strength.
Slowly, one joint at a time, he began to move, starting from his neck and shoulders, then his wrists and ankles. His motions were calm and unhurried, as though he were performing rehabilitation exercises.
After walking a few steps, his blood began to circulate faster. The stiffness in his muscles gradually eased, and the soreness faded considerably.
Pei Cijing stood by the window, looking at the unfamiliar yet familiar city outside. His mind remained filled with confusion.
He didn’t know how he had gotten here.
He didn’t know what identity he currently had.
He didn’t know whether his Wife existed in this world.
And he didn’t know which world that “ultimate prize” had sent him to.
There were too many questions and too many unknowns.
Perhaps—
He could ask the medical staff when they came by.
Speak of the devil.
Just as Pei Cijing was thinking about it, the door to the hospital room was suddenly pushed open from outside.
A young nurse walked in.
She wore a pink uniform, her hair pulled into a neat ponytail. In her hands was a tray holding a thermometer, a blood-pressure monitor, and several medical instruments whose names he couldn’t identify.
Pei Cijing turned toward the doorway.
He instinctively put on a kindly smile. This was a habitual expression he had developed in the Great Qian Dynasty. After all, he had a house full of children and grandchildren. He couldn’t possibly keep a stern face when dealing with younger members of the family.
Then he raised his right hand and waved at the nurse.
“Hello—”
Before he could finish speaking, everything on the nurse’s tray clattered to the floor.
The thermometer shattered. The blood-pressure cuff rolled into the corner, while the tray spun around twice on the floor, producing a series of crisp metallic clangs.
Then—
The nurse turned and ran.
As she ran, she shouted in a voice loud enough to be heard throughout the entire floor:
“Dr. Hua! The patient in Room 606 is awake! Dr. Hua! He’s awake!”
Pei Cijing’s hand was still raised in midair, and the smile remained frozen on his face. His entire body had gone rigid, like a statue struck by an immobilizing spell.
A flurry of hurried footsteps came from the corridor, growing louder as they approached, as though a thousand armies were surging this way.
Pei Cijing slowly lowered his hand and gradually let his smile fade. Inwardly, he sighed.
Young people these days really couldn’t keep their composure.
He had woken up. Was that really such a momentous event? Did they have to make such a racket?
Still—
Now that the news of his awakening had spread, the people who needed to come would be arriving soon.
Pei Cijing turned and walked back to the hospital bed.
He sat down steadily and waited in silence.
…
The balcony at the end of the hospital corridor.
The sunlight was bright, and the wind was gentle. From the balcony, one could see the artificial lake behind the hospital. Sunlight shimmered across its surface, while several white waterbirds strolled leisurely along the shore.
Shen Ninghuan stood by the railing in a sharp, dark-blue professional suit that accentuated her figure, making her look both polished and elegant.
Her long hair fell over her shoulders, lifting slightly in the breeze.
Her features were exquisite and cool, but a hint of weariness lingered between her brows. Her gaze rested on the lake, though her thoughts were clearly elsewhere.
“Master,” she said. Her voice was not loud, but it was clear and steady. “It’s already been seven days. When do you think he’ll wake up?”
Someone stood beside her, leaning against the railing.
He looked to be in his early thirties and was dressed in trendy streetwear. His T-shirt was covered in an exaggerated graffiti design, two metal chains hung from his trousers, and a pair of limited-edition sneakers adorned his feet. Sunglasses shaped like a toad’s eyes perched on the bridge of his nose, hiding most of his face.
If Pei Cijing had been there, he would surely have been so shocked by the outfit that his jaw would have dropped.
Because although this man was much younger than before, he was still recognizable—
He was Master Qingyun.
The Master Qingyun from the Qingyun Temple of Great Qian.
The very Master Qingyun who had once interpreted his fortune and seen through his identity as “a man from beyond the heavens.”
At that moment, he was sucking on a lollipop while holding the latest model of smartphone. A flashy “Pentakill” animation was shimmering across the screen.
“Miss Shen, don’t worry.” Master Qingyun did not even look up. His fingers flew across the screen, and his tone was casual. “When the time comes and the wandering soul returns to its body, the person will naturally wake up.”
Shen Ninghuan turned her head and glanced at him. Her lips moved, as if she wanted to ask something, but she seemed unsure how to begin.
After several seconds of silence, she finally asked, “Then…”
She paused, apparently weighing her words.
“Will he still remember me?”
Master Qingyun’s fingers stopped for a moment.
He raised his head and looked at Shen Ninghuan over his sunglasses. Slowly, the corners of his mouth curved upward.
“Past lives and present lives; present lives and past lives.” He put away his phone and turned around, leaning against the railing as he faced her. “The bond between you two is far deeper than you could imagine.”
Hearing this, the stone that had hung in Shen Ninghuan’s heart for seven days finally sank a little.
She did not ask anything else.
She had known Master Qingyun since childhood. He had always spoken this way—three parts clear and seven parts obscure. He would say what needed to be said, but never a word more than necessary.
Yet what he had said today was enough to put her mind at ease.
She was just about to thank him—
“Dr. Hua! The patient in Room 606 is awake!”
The nurse’s shout came from the other end of the corridor. Though it was far away, it sounded as clear as if she were calling directly into their ears.
Shen Ninghuan’s body went slightly rigid.
Then she moved.
She did not run, but her steps were so fast that she seemed to fly. Her high heels struck the floor in a rapid series of clicks, growing quicker and more urgent as she disappeared down the corridor.
Watching her retreating figure, Master Qingyun’s smile deepened.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and reopened the game.
The login screen for “Honor of Kings” flashed briefly before the game loaded.
Three minutes into the match, he had already scored two quadra-kills.
Five minutes in.
Three pentakills.
The opposing team’s chat was filled with question marks and “???” while his teammates kept saying, “Carry me, bro!”
Master Qingyun smiled and muttered to himself, “This world really is interesting.”
He took the lollipop from his mouth, glanced at it, then put it back in.
And continued playing.
…
Inside the hospital room.
Pei Cijing sat upright on the hospital bed, allowing an elderly man in a white coat, his hair streaked with gray, to conduct a series of examinations.
The stethoscope, blood-pressure cuff, thermometer, penlight, reflex hammer—every available instrument had been put to use. Once was not enough, so the doctor repeated each examination a second time. When twice was not enough, he did it a third time.
The old man’s surname was Hua, and his given name was Yuan. He was the chief physician of the hospital. There was something about him that felt familiar, yet not quite the same.
But none of that mattered.
What mattered was that Dr. Hua was examining him with extraordinary thoroughness—so thorough that even Pei Cijing felt it was excessive.
“Dr. Hua,” Pei Cijing finally said, his tone gentle but helpless, “I’m really fine.”
Hua Yuan ignored him and continued shining the penlight into his pupils.
“Dr. Hua, I know my own condition very well—”
“What do you know?” Hua Yuan finally spoke. His voice was not loud, but his tone was stiff, carrying an unquestionable authority. “You’ve been unconscious for seven days and just woke up. Every one of your vital signs needs to be reassessed. You say you know your condition—what exactly are you basing that on?”
Pei Cijing was rendered speechless.
He wanted to say, I have the skills of a divine healer. I understand this body better than you do.
But he could not say that.
If he did, Dr. Hua would either refuse to believe him or believe him and send him to the psychiatric ward for further observation.
Forget it.
He would just let the doctor examine him.
The doctor was only fulfilling his responsibilities, after all. It was for his own good.
Pei Cijing stopped resisting and obediently opened his mouth so Hua Yuan could examine his tongue coating.
Hua Yuan was still inspecting his tongue when the door to the hospital room opened once more.
Pei Cijing instinctively raised his head. His gaze passed over Hua Yuan’s shoulder and settled on the doorway.
A woman stood there.
She wore a dark-blue professional suit, her long hair falling over her shoulders. Her features were exquisite and cool, and a hint of weariness lingered between her brows. But those eyes—
Those eyes were clear and bright, as though filled with scattered stars.
The instant their gazes met, Pei Cijing’s heartbeat missed a beat.
No.
It did not miss a beat.
It stopped for one beat.
Then it started again, pounding wildly and rapidly, as if it were about to leap out of his throat.
He recognized those eyes.
He had looked at those eyes for a hundred and ten years. He could have drawn them perfectly with his eyes closed.
They were his Wife’s eyes.
Shen Ninghuan stood in the doorway, looking at the young man on the hospital bed.
He was wearing a patient’s gown. His hair was somewhat disheveled, and his face was pale, but his spirits were good. His eyes were clear, and his back was straight. Even sitting on a hospital bed, he possessed a calm and composed bearing.
She recognized him at a glance.
Not because of this body or this face.
But because of those eyes—and the light within them.
That was the light she had watched for an entire lifetime.
Their eyes met, and neither of them spoke.
Yet in their hearts, both of them knew perfectly well—
He was her man.
She was his woman.
There was no need for confirmation, no need for proof. One glance was enough.
Pei Cijing parted his lips, about to speak—
“My son—”
A booming shout, thick with sobs, came from the far end of the corridor. It grew louder and closer with every passing second.
Before Pei Cijing had time to react, two round figures squeezed into the hospital room.
The one in front was a middle-aged woman, impeccably maintained, with skin so fair and smooth she looked far younger than her years. She wore a perfectly tailored Chanel jacket and a pair of flats.
Her eyes were red, and her makeup had run, leaving a large smear of eyeliner around them. She looked like a pitiful panda.
The moment she entered, she made a beeline for the hospital bed, moving so quickly that Hua Yuan had no time to dodge.
“My son! You’re finally awake! Do you know what your mother’s been through these past few days? I’ve cried every single day, cried until I nearly went blind!”
The woman threw herself at the bedside and wrapped Pei Cijing in a tight embrace, sobbing so hard she could barely catch her breath.
Right behind her came a plump, middle-aged man.
He wore a tailored suit, his stomach protruding slightly, and his tie hung crookedly around his neck as if he had run a very long way. His hair had been combed impeccably, but a few strands had fallen loose over his forehead. He was too distracted to push them aside.
His eyes were red as well. He was not wailing like the woman, but the few tears he could not hide at the corners of his eyes betrayed his feelings.
“It’s good that you’re awake.” The man’s voice was slightly hoarse. He walked to the bedside and gently patted Pei Cijing’s shoulder, as though afraid he might break him. “It’s good that you’re awake. Good that you’re awake.”
Pei Cijing was being hugged so tightly by the middle-aged woman that he was practically suffocating.
Yet he did not struggle.
Not because he could not break free, but because he did not want to.
This familiar feeling.
That familiar, overwhelming habit of hugging first and asking questions later, no matter what the situation was.
And that cry of “My son.”
And that other cry of “My poor son.”
Pei Cijing’s gaze passed over the middle-aged woman’s shoulder and landed on the round, somewhat comical face of the middle-aged man.
Pei Fugui.
That was Pei Fugui.
His cheap father from his life in the Great Qian Dynasty.
The face had changed, and so had the clothes, but that particular aura of being round, amiable, and completely henpecked had not changed in the slightest.
As for the woman clinging to him and sobbing—
Madam Zhou.
His cheap mother from that same life in the Great Qian Dynasty.
She, too, had a different face and different clothes, but her attitude of “my son is the best in the world, and no one is allowed to bully him except his wife” remained exactly the same.
Pei Cijing let out a long sigh inwardly.
What a move.
This had to be the system’s doing.
Without a doubt.
It had brought over his parents and his wife from his life in the Great Qian Dynasty.
Not a single one had been left behind.
…
After a great deal of chaos, Pei Cijing finally pieced together what had happened.
Madam Zhou had finished crying and, after Pei Fugui persuaded her, had gone to sit on the sofa. She sniffled while blowing her nose into tissues, making enough noise to shake the heavens.
Once Hua Yuan saw that the family’s emotions had settled down, she resumed her examination. Afterward, she gave them a few instructions regarding precautions, then left the room with the nurse, giving the family some privacy.
The story was a long one.
In short, Pei Cijing had once again traveled back to his previous life.
More precisely, he had returned to the version of himself who had choked to death on a sunflower seed in that life—except that apparently, he had not actually died. He had been resuscitated.
He had merely been unconscious for seven days.
As for why an orphan from the Tomato Orphanage suddenly had parents…
That was a much longer story.
Pei Fugui sat on the sofa, rubbed his hands together, organized his thoughts, and began to explain.
“Twenty-one years ago, I took over Yuanwei Group. Back then, the group wasn’t very large—just a hundred billion or so in assets.”
When Pei Fugui said “just a hundred billion or so,” his tone was as casual as if he were remarking that the weather was nice.
“I was young at the time, and ambitious. I thought our country couldn’t keep letting others hold us back in technology, so I invested a huge amount of money into the field. Computers, chips, lithography machines—anything we could work on, we worked on.”
“We were lucky, and we were willing to spend enough money. Before long, we started seeing results.”
“That day, I had just finished a press conference where I announced that Yuanwei Group would lead the country into a new technological era. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself and was planning to hurry over to the hospital to see your mother. She had just given birth to you and was still staying there.”
At this point, Pei Fugui paused, his voice sinking lower.
“But as soon as I reached the hospital entrance, I heard an explosion from inside.”
“Someone had attacked the hospital.”
“In the chaos, you went missing.”
Pei Fugui’s voice trembled. He took a deep breath before continuing.
“We searched for twenty years.”
“We turned the whole city upside down. Then we searched the surrounding provinces and cities. We investigated every clue we could find, again and again.”
“But we just couldn’t find you.”
“Until recently, when a match came back from the national DNA database.”
“We found you.”
Pei Fugui looked up at Pei Cijing, his eyes red once more.
“We were just preparing to bring you home when you—”
“You choked on a sunflower seed.”
Pei Cijing: “…”
How was he supposed to describe this plot?
Twisted.
Absurd.
And carrying an overpowering sense of “Did the screenwriter write this while drunk?”
And yet it had really happened.
It had happened so vividly and concretely that Pei Cijing could only lean against the hospital bed in silence for quite some time, caught between laughter and tears.
Then he began sorting out the relationships.
Although his parents did not seem to remember anything from their life in the Great Qian Dynasty, Pei Cijing was certain that they were the same parents he had known then. This was most likely the ultimate prize the system had mentioned.
Yuanwei Group.
The Marquis of Weiyuan’s residence.
Pei Fugui.
Pei Cijing.
The names were exactly the same as in his life in the Great Qian Dynasty.
And the woman in the dark-blue professional suit standing by the door—
Shen Ninghuan.
Pei Cijing turned his head and looked at Shen Ninghuan.
She was standing by the window, sunlight falling over her and bathing her in a warm golden glow. Her expression was still as cool and restrained as ever, but there was a light in her eyes that she could not quite conceal.
Following Pei Cijing’s gaze, Pei Fugui suddenly let out an “Oh!” and slapped his thigh.
“Right, there’s one more thing.”
His tone abruptly became more cheerful, carrying the excitement of someone about to announce good news.
“The Pei family and the Shen family have been family friends since your grandfather’s time. We’ve stood shoulder to shoulder in battle, fought wars together, and even gone into business together. Our bond is rock-solid.”
“You and the daughter of your Uncle Shen—who is now the president of Shen Corporation…”
He pointed at Shen Ninghuan.
“You two were engaged before either of you was even born.”
Pei Cijing’s eyes lit up.
“We asked Ninghuan what she thought,” Pei Fugui said with a beaming smile. “As long as you don’t object, the engagement is settled.”
“Of course, if you’re unwilling, that’s fine too. When it comes to matters of the heart, you young people should make your own decisions.”
Pei Cijing looked at Shen Ninghuan, and Shen Ninghuan looked back at him.
Their eyes met.
Neither of them said a word.
But inside Pei Cijing’s heart, fireworks had already exploded.
Of course he was willing!
A wife who was a female CEO? How could he possibly refuse? Heh heh, he could finally live off his wife!
In his previous life in Da Qian, he had worked himself to the bone—studying, taking the imperial examinations, and laboring away at his post—until he had finally managed to catch up to his Wife in official rank.
But this time around…
He was starting with the ultimate cushy life.
No need to struggle anymore!
Pei Cijing happily calculated the benefits in his heart. The curve of his lips grew wider and wider, until it stretched into a grin that looked, no matter how one saw it, more than a little roguish.
Madam Zhou sat on the sofa, watching her son’s foolish grin. She blew her nose and said tearfully, “Is this child’s brain still not fully recovered?”
Pei Fugui hurried to comfort her. “It’s fine, it’s fine. The doctor said his recovery is going very well. Even silly grinning is normal.”
Pei Cijing: “…”
Dad. Mom.
There’s really nothing wrong with me!
