Chapter 2: The Fleshly Vessel, the Dutiful Young Man

"I have been reborn once again."
Ji Ming gazed up at the unfamiliar wooden beams above him, speaking in his heart with a weariness mingled with joy.

In the haze, someone kept slapping his backside, each strike heavier than the last, until he wailed aloud in tears; only then did the person finally smile with relief.

Time slipped by unnoticed. During the fetal stage, his consciousness remained drowsy, and under that fog, several years passed in the blink of an eye.

For years, to avoid drawing attention, Ji Ming had to feign a withdrawn and silent demeanor.

He knew well that if he did not disguise himself, a careless gesture, the accent of his speech, or the manner of his conduct would betray his difference, inviting all manner of unforeseen troubles.

Ji Ming quietly observed the world he’d been born into, as well as the social backdrop of the era.

Unlike his previous life as a common carp, people... are born unfree.

Through long observation, he confirmed he had been reborn into a household under a feudal society.

The nation he found himself in was called Ba, said to possess lands across six continents, and he was living in the southwestern part of Ba, within Guhe Continent, in a large settlement named Waterfowl.

The more Ji Ming saw and heard, the heavier his heart became.

In feudal society, commoners rarely have a day to rise above their station.

From birth, he bore the fate of ox and horse, destined to toil all his life upon the land, burdened by taxes and myriad corvée duties.

During his years of silence, a rumor gradually spread through Waterfowl Village—that when he was born, some foul energy blocked his heart, causing his mind to suffer, leaving him mute and withdrawn.

The rumor was vivid enough to be believable.

His parents of this life, upon hearing the rumor, consulted several physicians, even inviting a Daoist said to commune with spirits.

Yet after all attempts failed, they abandoned any further hope of treatment.

A few years later, as younger siblings were born, his parents’ attention toward him diminished greatly.

When Ji Ming reached the age of seven or eight, already foreseeing the bleak future that awaited a commoner’s son, he was thankful that his treasured vision, "Moist Egg Rebirth," had not vanished.

Of course, he also realized that this current reincarnation was much harder than the last.

His awareness, for example, was far less lucid than before. In those first few years after birth, he was perpetually drowsy, neither crying nor fussing, nearly mistaken by his parents for a monster to be dealt with.

A year or two later, within his treasured vision, the character "Egg" grew from faint to bold, signifying that his vision could once again enable him to reincarnate after death.

This assurance of rebirth emboldened his actions.

Such an abrupt shift in behavior, from extreme withdrawal to daring, seemed to the villagers almost supernatural.

Of course, it could also be explained as... demonic possession.

His parents were more delighted than frightened by his transformation—it meant their household had gained a useful laborer.

Not many days later, before the rooster crowed in the faint dawn, his father dragged him out to the fields, teaching him how to tend the crops.

Looking at the maze of furrowed land, the crisscrossing canals, and the old ox lowing in the field, Ji Ming felt a sudden chill of dread.

He feared not death, but the misery of toil in the fields.

As a child from a commoner’s family, he had only two meals a day, mostly vegetarian.

The main dish was a thin bowl of millet porridge, sometimes with wild greens and a pinch of salt, and a side of vegetables, with the occasional egg or steamed fish as a rare treat.

That scant food was barely enough to keep him from malnutrition—a stroke of fortune. If he remained trapped in the fields, he’d never live past thirty.

In truth, few peasants at the bottom ever survived beyond their thirties.

Though he complained in his heart, Ji Ming dared not show it on his face. Without a good plan, it was unwise to defy the head of the household.

Moreover, the ruling dynasty governed the realm with filial piety as its foundation, binding the people through the unity of family and state, loyalty and filial duty entwined.

At the end of the year, during clan gatherings, he had witnessed firsthand how someone branded "unfilial" was punished by clan law.

In the fields, his father did not make Ji Ming do heavy labor, only had him assist and become familiar with the land that would sustain him.

After an hour or so, his mother, who had given birth to a younger brother and sister some years before, arrived carrying both children.

Handing the siblings to Ji Ming to watch over, she bent skillfully to work in the modest plot.

This scene stung Ji Ming’s eyes with a surge of emotion.

In the days that followed, as he helped in the fields, Ji Ming constantly pondered how to change his circumstances.

Such a thing could not be done rashly, nor could he stand out; it had to be accomplished quietly, like gentle rain, altering himself without notice.

Ji Ming knew that any misstep would bring true calamity to his fragile family.

It wasn’t until he reached thirteen or fourteen, fully skilled in fieldwork, that he finally devised a safe and practical plan, and gained the ability to carry it out.

"Big brother!"

His young brother struggled across the field with a jug of water.

In the millet fields, a tanned farmer with bare arms straightened his aching back, smiling as he greeted his brother.

"You all take a break."

Ji Ming wiped his sweat, calling out to two village friends working nearby.

"Brother Lu, you’re free today—why not come to the tile market for some fun? I hear the people from West Well Village brought a fighting cock called Iron Talon General. We three heroes of Waterfowl Village should see what it’s made of!"

One of them suggested eagerly.

In this life, Ji Ming’s surname was Wang and his name Lu, and "Brother Lu" was a term of endearment among his peers.

A refined youth in the fields spoke slowly, "Zhang Song, Brother Lu has important matters lately; you shouldn’t stir up trouble."

"I..." Zhang Song was about to argue, then suddenly remembered something, his face changing.

"Brother Lu, look at me—I nearly made a foolish mistake and ruined your big event."

Ji Ming stood in place, silent for a moment until Zhang Song’s face grew pale, then finally smiled, "What big event? It’s just that my mother’s eyes are ill, and the physician said she needs deer milk to treat them."

Seeing Ji Ming’s face ease, Zhang Song patted his chest vigorously.

"If you need deer milk, just say the word. In Heng Mountain, there’s a dreaded white-striped tiger we haven’t been able to hunt for years; why risk yourself..."

"Ahem..." Another friend in the fields coughed, cutting Zhang Song off.

"Brother Lu is famed in our village for filial piety—fetching deer milk for his mother is something he must do himself."

Seeing this, Zhang Song exploded, "Wang Bao, what do you mean, always embarrassing me? If you don’t give a reason, I’ll beat you up today."

"Zhong’er, head home first," Ji Ming told his brother, then pulled the two friends apart.

Besides farming, Ji Ming had also learned some martial arts—his reputation for filial piety was not mere rumor.

Zhang Song and Wang Bao were his childhood friends, carefully chosen and cultivated.

Zhang Song was the youngest son of an outsider hunting family, chivalrous but lacking in judgment, strong and loyal, always following Ji Ming’s lead.

Wang Bao was from the main clan, within five degrees of kinship, orphaned young, with a modest inheritance. He was purely filial, always caring for his widowed mother, fond of poetry and books, calm and perceptive.

After befriending Wang Bao, Ji Ming’s strategy of bundled reputation earned him some filial fame. Combined with his martial prowess, he managed to win the title of "Filial Hero" in the village.

These two, Zhang and Wang, were essential to his plan.

"Brother Lu, is it just because you share the same clan that you always side with Wang Bao?"

Zhang Song shook off Ji Ming’s hand, grumbling.

"Enough!" Ji Ming adopted a stern tone. "We three heroes of Waterfowl Village have always been united and admired. Especially you, Zhang Song—your martial skills and loyalty make you the leader among us. How can you say such divisive things?"

"Is that so?!" Zhang Song’s face lit up, eyes shining. "How come I’ve never heard that?"

Ji Ming asked, "What have you heard, then?"

Zhang Song looked embarrassed, muttering, "I heard they call us the three ghosts of the village—fighting cocks, chasing dogs, hated by all."

"You see!" Ji Ming cried in anguish. "Clearly, they’re jealous of our great reputation, using such rumors to slander us. If we fight among ourselves, we’ll only make them laugh."

Hearing this, Zhang Song realized his mistake and quickly apologized to Wang Bao.

Such quarrels among youths were like sand in the wind—gone as soon as they passed.

A few days later, as agreed, Zhang Song quietly delivered a complete deerskin with antlers.

One day, when the village hunters went into the mountains, Ji Ming brought the deerskin and followed.

His aim was simple: to ride the tide of the times, emulate the story of "Deer Milk for Parents" among the Twenty-Four Filial Exemplars, and earn himself a wave of fame, so as to enjoy society’s hidden benefits.

Ji Ming believed that once he secured such filial renown, his status would be greatly elevated.

Then, when county officials sought nominees, he would surely be recommended from his village—this was the most reliable plan he had.

In the mountains, Ji Ming didn’t bother seeking a doe. He went straight to the hunters’ usual path, draped the deerskin over himself.

"Are they coming?"

Ji Ming crouched on all fours, waiting for an hour, glancing up again and again.

If the hunters didn’t arrive by late afternoon, he would have to return before sunset—he dared not stay overnight in the mountains.

"They’re here."

Ji Ming heard movement, immediately raising his backside, pretending to be a deer.

He was already thinking of how to publicize himself afterward—he would write an article to spread through the villages.

"Wang Lu, truly filial. His aged mother’s eyes are ill and desires deer milk. Wang Lu dons deerskin, ventures deep into the mountains, encounters wolves, faces tigers, luckily finds a herd of deer, obtains milk to serve his parent. The village hunters see and shoot at him, but moved by his filial piety, their arrows miss. In the end, Wang Lu explains himself and is spared."

A series of footsteps approached. Ji Ming subtly tugged at the deerskin to reveal some flaws, lest he be truly mistaken for prey and shot.

The sound of a bowstring drew taut.

Ji Ming shivered, immediately standing up to face the archer.

"Uncle Zhang!"

The archer was none other than Zhang Song’s father, Hunter Zhang.

The conversation Ji Ming anticipated did not happen; Hunter Zhang’s expression was grim.

"Don’t blame Uncle Zhang."

His arrow was steady, aimed directly at Ji Ming.

"You have a good story—why not let your brother Zhang Song have it?"