An Xiguang was eighteen that year. He’d bombed the college entrance exam spectacularly, missing out on both first- and second-tier universities. His family wasn’t well-off enough to cover the tuition at a third-tier college, either, so he had only two options.
First, step into society early and become a proud wage slave. Second, pick a junior college and spend another two or three years drifting along like a salted fish, as the final requiem of his youth.
An Xiguang was a lazy salted fish with no ambition, content to take life one year at a time. Naturally, he chose the latter.
As the summer before college drew to a close, there was one thing left on An Xiguang’s mind: the girl he’d had a crush on for three years was about to attend a top university in the capital, while he was heading off to a junior college in a city he’d never seen before.
Mm.
That’s right.
Before they parted ways, An Xiguang wanted to confess to her. After more than ten years of being too scared to make a move, his friends finally egged him on, and he foolishly showed up at the girl’s house with a bouquet of flowers to confess.
And the result?
The result doesn’t matter!
I hope everyone won’t get hung up on such boring details.
Mr. Lu Xun once said: “The only reason you still like women is that you haven’t met a man who makes your heart skip a beat.”
If he remembered correctly, it was September 5, 2016. An Xiguang set off alone for a city he’d never been to.
Earlier, a friend had sent him a post from some sketchy ride service’s official account, swearing it had a discount for new customers. The trip was over 500 kilometers, but only cost 50 yuan. An Xiguang came from a poor family, so the moment he heard the price, he was sold. He signed up and paid on the spot.
Oh, and it was the same friend who’d egged him on to confess.
It wasn’t until the car pulled up outside his house that An Xiguang realized it was a Wuling Hongguang van that looked ready to fall apart. Too late for regrets. He’d paid, and there were no refunds, so he got in.
Before getting in, An Xiguang took a look at the driver and asked, just in case, “Sir, is this thing safe?”
The driver slapped his chest and declared, “Back in my day, I used to deliver tofu up in the mountains! And a few years ago, I even did cross-border transport. Don’t underestimate me, kid!”
“Cross-border transport? That’s awesome! Well, that’s reassuring!”
“Quit dawdling and get going… I mean… get in.”
An Xiguang didn’t suspect a thing. He nodded quickly and said, “Sure thing!”
And then.
Only later did An Xiguang learn that the “+” after 500 kilometers meant infinitely far, and that the driver’s cross-border transport had crossed the dimensional barrier.
That day, the car broke down on the road. The brakes failed, and it plunged off a cliff.
An Xiguang didn’t just rest in peace—he became light itself. He died at eighteen.
……
Before he knew it…
Thirteen years had passed since An Xiguang came to this world. Oh, right—he wasn’t called An Xiguang anymore. Now, he was Sang.
After the car accident in his original world, An Xiguang had crossed over—or so he supposed.
To be honest, it felt more like being reborn after forgetting to drink Granny Meng’s soup. It wasn’t a full-body transfer or a soul transfer. He’d simply started over as a baby.
Well, damn—he really had started a new game.
That was fine by him. An Xiguang had a bit of a hang-up about this sort of thing. He couldn’t stand the idea of taking over someone else’s body when crossing worlds; it felt like using secondhand goods. Just imagine peeing with someone else’s little brother, taking a dump with someone else’s butthole, eating and spitting with someone else’s mouth. Disgusting.
At least starting from zero meant he was more or less the genuine, factory-original version.
He was an orphan, raised in an orphanage alongside the other children.
Almost forgot to introduce this world: it was an otherworld where the Blood Clan reigned supreme, humans were lowly, and chivalry was revered. The setting was similar to medieval Europe in his old world. In short, it was a savage, cruel place with backward technology.
As for strange things like magic, An Xiguang—no, Sang—had no idea. He’d lived for thirteen years and had never even left this remote eastern town called Kahn.
Back in his old world, he’d been an anime fan with plenty of experience under his belt. He’d imagined what it’d be like to cross into another world and figured he’d become a hero who saved the world from the Demon King. He never expected things to turn out like this. As for cheat abilities… well, he did have a tiny one, but it wasn’t much use. More on that later.
Maybe that internet saying really was true: “A loser like you would still be a loser even after crossing into another world.”
Well… it was a bit too realistic, but he could live with it.
After all, what was done was done. It wasn’t like he could cross into another world all over again.
He didn’t want to die a second time. Compared to the momentary pain of dying, the trauma it left behind and the life that flashed before his eyes in his final moments were a hundred, a thousand times worse.
Besides, Sang had already lived in this world for thirteen years. Life was a little hard, but thanks to the orphanage raising him and all the friends around him, he was pretty happy. He wouldn’t mind spending his whole life here, lazing around like a salted fish.
A simple, peaceful life was the best!
At that very moment, in the height of a midsummer afternoon, the boy Sang was taking shelter from the heat beneath a tree out in the countryside. A blade of grass dangled from his mouth as he lay lazily on the lawn, legs crossed. Life was good.
“Ah… summers in Kahn are way too hot. It’s like Africa out here.”
Just as the boy Sang was thinking this, the voices of a boy and a girl suddenly rang out from a nearby hill. They both looked around thirteen or fourteen.
The girl sounded a little annoyed as she called out, “Watermelon… everyone else is working. Why are you hiding out here and slacking off by yourself again!?”
The boy chimed in, “Watermelon, Big Sis, the orphanage director, said that if you don’t come back and work, you won’t get dinner tonight!”
The girl was named Luna. She was short, with brilliant golden hair—the sort you wouldn’t expect to see on a commoner without a surname. She usually wore it in a long ponytail, and her eyes were emerald green. She hadn’t quite grown into her looks yet, but she was already showing the makings of a beauty. She also seemed a little spoiled and willful.
According to the orphanage’s previous director, Luna and Sang had actually been found on the same day. Luna had been found at night, hence her name; Sang had been found during the day, hence his.
The truth was…
As commoners in this otherworld, they had no surnames. Their first names were more like labels.
The boy was named Adolf. He had dark blue, slightly wavy hair cut to medium length, and eyes to match. He was extremely handsome, with a steady air about him. On top of that, he carried himself with far more maturity than anyone his age. He was the most popular boy in the orphanage.
Since the other two had been introduced, it was only fair to introduce Sang, too.
Sang—by his own estimation, the man at the very top of the entire orphanage. In reality, he was an unpopular troublemaker and lazy couch potato, with an unremarkable face, an average build, and a plain sort of air about him. In short, he was no different from An Xiguang in his old world. The only thing that stood out was probably his black hair… For some reason, this world had hair in every color of the rainbow, but black was especially rare.
The boy Sang sat up on the lawn with a look of utter reluctance. He spat out the blade of grass with a “ptooey,” gave the two kids in the distance a dead-fish stare, then yawned. “Oh, got it. I’ll be right there.”
“Hurry up, you stinky Watermelon!” Luna insisted.
Oh.
Right.
Watermelon was the boy Sang’s nickname.
It was the nickname An Xiguang had been called for more than ten years in his old world. Maybe he still felt attached to that world, so he’d deliberately asked everyone to call him that. It was a small way of mourning the world he’d left behind.
Still, since he’d come to this world, he might as well live well… After all, nobody gets to leave this world alive.
