Chapter 004: Memories of Arriving at Lushi Academy (Part One)

On the evening of October 28th, 1924 (the thirteenth year of the Republic, also the thirteenth year of the Taisho era in Japan), Chen Jiehua, having just left the detention room, relied on Aoki Seigen’s memories to return to the living quarters for the 17th class of infantry cadets at the Army Academy. His first step was to find the entrance ranking list and, feigning nonchalance, cast a quick glance at it.

As he had feared, fate seemed to delight in irony. Just as he had expected, Aoki Seigen’s overall abilities ranked third in the class, while the original Chen Jiehua was only twenty-third! For now, all Chen Jiehua could do was follow Aoki Seigen’s persona and trajectory, keeping to himself and quietly studying and training in places where no one would notice, hoping to catch up to Aoki Seigen’s original abilities before the next comprehensive assessment.

In theory, his only flaw at present should be the difference in physical strength and reflexes. Yet, a flaw like this could prove fatal in the eyes of someone observant.

Fate, it seemed, had no intention of giving Chen Jiehua a chance to catch up. At the Army Academy, all cadets received identical treatment: twelve to a dormitory, with strict military management. (It wasn’t until the new 18th class that Japanese and Chinese students were separated for both classes and living arrangements, with even the curriculum differing.) If everyone else was asleep while he trained outside alone—especially when Aoki Seigen had never done so before—it would be utterly unreasonable.

What, then, would make sense? Lying on his bunk with his eyes closed, Chen Jiehua communicated with the system in his mind.

“Calling system, calling the almighty system.”

“How can I help you?”

“Almighty, beautiful system god.”

“Please, host, no flattery. Let’s communicate normally.”

“Alright, system god, look, I’ve just arrived and already had a rough start. With your help I narrowly escaped danger—twice! But it’s only temporary. My ranking in overall abilities is twenty places behind Aoki Seigen! There are only a little over two months until the next comprehensive assessment in January, and I simply can’t catch up in physical abilities. When the assessment comes, I’ll still be around twenty-third. Especially in kendo and hand-to-hand combat, the gap is far too wide—it’s completely unreasonable. And unreasonable means exposure. Exposure means death! Right? You wouldn’t want your newly-bound host to perish in less than three months, would you?”

“Host, what are you trying to say? Be direct.”

“I mean, do you have any potions or medicines that can permanently enhance physical strength, reflexes, speed, intellect, swordsmanship, and so forth?”

“No.”

“Then isn’t it a loss for you to choose me? I’ll be dead in two months, and you’ll have to start over with someone else.”

...

Clearly, shortcuts and laziness wouldn’t work.

The next morning, Chen Jiehua awoke early, following Aoki Seigen’s memories. Aoki’s habit had always been to rise before everyone else and do push-ups in the courtyard. This routine made perfect sense and fit Aoki Seigen’s usual persona—he had to keep it up. While the current Chen Jiehua couldn’t match Aoki Seigen’s original number of push-ups, no one would bother to get up so early just to count.

After a few sets, Chen Jiehua looked up to see a classmate staring at him in confusion.

A prompt appeared in the top left of his vision: Zhao Yiyue, Chen Jiehua’s fellow townsman and close friend, entered the preparatory class the same year, now also in the infantry division.

Just when Chen Jiehua least wanted trouble, trouble found him. Zhao Yiyue, his friend and fellow Jiangsu native from the same intake, had come looking for him.

The soul of Chen Jiehua from 2024 had only gained control of this body after the soul of 1924’s Chen Jiehua departed. Therefore, he actually didn’t know Zhao Yiyue at all—since the Chen Jiehua of 2024 had none of the memories of his 1924 counterpart.

Luckily, there was a system prompt.

What a predicament—fellow townsman and childhood friend, same preparatory class, they knew each other too well. How could he resolve this crisis?

“The system suggests you ignore him and avoid contact as much as possible. In any case, you can’t kill him.”

“System god, are you implying I’d consider killing him? If you hadn’t mentioned it, the thought wouldn’t have crossed my mind.”

Zhao Yiyue, meanwhile, was thoroughly perplexed. The person before him looked familiar—it should be Chen Jiehua. Yet the look in his eyes made it clear he didn’t recognize him. That kind of distance couldn’t be faked.

Chen Jiehua, who had always been inseparable from Zhao Yiyue, had gone missing for two days. The school’s explanation was that he had left on his own. Zhao Yiyue knew they were lying—maybe it would fool others, but not him. If Chen Jiehua ever left the campus, even just to buy something, he would tell Zhao Yiyue.

The last time he saw Chen Jiehua was two days ago, when he’d said only a single sentence: he was off to talk to Aoki Seigen. After that, he vanished.

If the person before him wasn’t Chen Jiehua, then he must be Aoki Seigen. Either way, finding him should yield answers.

There was only one way to be sure: a fight. He and Chen Jiehua were evenly matched—twenty-third and twenty-first in class, respectively. They had sparred countless times and were always neck and neck. But if the person before him was Aoki Seigen, who ranked third overall and first in kendo, the difference in combat ability would be obvious.

Without hesitation, Zhao Yiyue decided to test him, but Chen Jiehua (as Aoki Seigen) stopped him.

“Private fighting is forbidden. Do you want to end up in detention?” he said in fluent Japanese, then turned and left swiftly.

He had no choice but to leave. Clearly, the clever Zhao Yiyue had already thought of using a fight to distinguish real from fake—a simple but effective method.

What’s more, other students in the dormitory area were starting to get up, and some were already casting curious glances in their direction.

If he stayed, there really would be a fight—and then things would spiral out of control, with no way to cover it up.

He had to find a way to communicate with Zhao Yiyue and explain himself, or at least pacify him; otherwise, he’d always be a ticking time bomb.

Zhao Yiyue was stunned by Chen Jiehua’s fluent Japanese.

First, at the Army Academy, if cadets were caught fighting early in the morning, the punishment was severe—and the Discipline Office had a myriad of tricks; detention was just the lightest.

Second, this person’s Japanese was so fluent that it almost confirmed he wasn’t Chen Jiehua.

But why was he in such a hurry to leave? Was it guilt? Perhaps there was more to the story—had he killed Chen Jiehua? He had to find a private moment to question him and get to the bottom of it.

Next came the daily morning drills, after which they could eat.

Chen Jiehua continued, as per Aoki Seigen’s habits, to get his breakfast and eat alone in his usual corner. This too was important—a change in habits could easily become a flaw, and he had to minimize those.

Zhao Yiyue, who was further back in the breakfast line, intended to approach Aoki Seigen (Chen Jiehua) after getting his food, but seeing others already eating around him, realized it wasn’t the right moment. He would have to find another opportunity.