Chapter One: Liu Ju

In the early morning, Qingxing Village was gently touched by the first rays of dawn. Soft light filtered through a delicate mist, draping the entire village in a faint golden veil. The calls of roosters and barking of dogs rang out in succession, shattering the stillness of the night, yet together they formed a perfect rural morning symphony.

With a creak, the door of a farmhouse at the far end of Qingxing Village swung open and a young man stepped outside. His name was Zhang Bo, the owner of this farmhouse inn.

Stepping outside, Zhang Bo took a deep breath, savoring the earthy fragrance that lingered in the air, his expression subtly shifting. Once, he too had been a city dweller, slogging through a life that was nearly round-the-clock work. Eventually, he made his decision: he was done with that grind.

Fortunately, he had never transferred his household registration to the city. The house his grandfather left him still stood, and, as luck would have it, in recent years tourism in Qingxing Village had flourished. So, Zhang Bo returned home and, like the other villagers, opened a guesthouse.

And today was its opening day.

Just as Zhang Bo was about to stretch his limbs, he suddenly spotted a child of about ten, dressed in ancient attire, dozing in the corner by the wall of his inn.

He quickly strode over, crouched down, and spoke softly to the boy.

“Little Ju, wake up. Why did you come here without telling me?”

The child’s name was Liu Ju. His name, far from obscure, was illustrious in history—most notably as the legitimate eldest son of Emperor Wu of Han.

Of course, Zhang Bo wasn’t delusional; he didn’t believe for a second that this boy was truly the emperor’s son, even if his manners and clothing seemed authentically archaic.

After all, Qingxing Village was a tourist destination known for its distinctive ancient style, from its architecture to the villagers’ attire. Out-of-town visitors, keen to immerse themselves in a near-historical experience, often dressed in old-fashioned clothes as well. Zhang Bo had even seen people strolling the streets in full armor, and their speech was often flowery and formal, as if the whole place had slipped back in time.

As for Liu Ju, he had appeared at Zhang Bo’s as-yet unfinished guesthouse a little over a month ago. To Zhang Bo’s surprise, the boy, who seemed so well-mannered, was completely illiterate.

That had made Zhang Bo think of a phrase—“happy education.”

He hadn’t dwelled on it much.

After all, just judging by the quality of the boy’s clothes, he could tell Liu Ju was from a well-off family—there was no need for concern.

Hearing his name called, Liu Ju slowly lifted his head, blinking sleepily up at Zhang Bo.

“Brother.”

He stood and offered Zhang Bo a courteous bow, hands clasped in front of him.

Zhang Bo could only shake his head in resignation. Liu Ju was wonderful in every way, except he was a bit too polite.

“Come in, Little Ju. I’ll make you some ginger tea to chase away the chill.”

Before Liu Ju could protest, Zhang Bo pulled him inside and set a kettle on the coal stove.

The flames flickering in the stove cast a glow over Liu Ju’s curious face.

“Brother, what is this?” Liu Ju pointed to the coal stove, eyes shining with inquiry.

Zhang Bo scratched his head. Coal stoves had become rare, really only used in rural areas. In the city, people used electricity for heating and boiling water. It was no wonder this little rich boy had never seen one.

“That’s a coal stove. You can use it for both heating and boiling water. The fuel inside is called honeycomb coal.”

Coal stove? Honeycomb coal?

Liu Ju had neither seen nor heard of such things, but they looked exceedingly interesting.

After a while, Zhang Bo returned with a cup of steaming brown sugar ginger tea and handed it to Liu Ju.

Liu Ju’s eyes lit up at the sight of the glass cup. Though it wasn’t his first time seeing such crystal-clear “medicine jade” (glass), it always left him awestruck—there was nothing so transparent in the Han dynasty.

Despite his marveling, Liu Ju acted quickly, taking the cup, blowing gently on the liquid, and drinking it down in one go.

“Little Ju, what brings you here so early today?” Zhang Bo asked.

Liu Ju set the now-empty cup aside and pulled a book from his robe, handing it to Zhang Bo.

“Brother, I finished reading that ‘Romance of the Three Kingdoms’ you lent me last time. I never imagined there could be such an interesting book.”

His praise was genuine; after all, entertainment in the imperial court was truly limited.

For the most part, there was only “Liu Bo chess” and “wrestling games.” The former relied too much on luck—otherwise, his grandfather, Emperor Jing, wouldn’t have suspected the Crown Prince of Wu of cheating and killed him with the chessboard after a losing streak.

As for wrestling games, while amusing, they were reserved for festivals. Most days, Liu Ju’s life consisted of studying with the Crown Prince’s tutor, Shi Qing—a dull and flavorless existence.

But “Romance of the Three Kingdoms” had opened a new world to him.

Not only was it fascinating, but the material it was written on was astonishingly light and thin compared to the bamboo strips used in the Han dynasty, and it contained far more information.

Moreover, the book mentioned something that piqued Liu Ju’s interest: the reign of Emperor Guangwu, the Emperors Huan and Ling, and Emperor Xian—none of whom Liu Ju had ever heard of.

Eager to find out more, Liu Ju had hurried over to ask Zhang Bo about these mysterious figures.

“Brother, I came today to ask about this so-called restoration of Guangwu, and the Emperors Huan and Ling, as well as Emperor Xian of Han.”

Zhang Bo, warming his hands by the stove, was momentarily dumbfounded by Liu Ju’s question. A month ago, this child hadn’t even been able to read. Over the past month, Zhang Bo had given him many of his own childhood books to practice on, but he hadn’t expected Liu Ju to learn so fast—he’d already finished “Romance of the Three Kingdoms.”

A prodigy!

“Well, the restoration of Guangwu refers to Emperor Liu Xiu, the founder of the Eastern Han. He was truly remarkable—a great magician, able to summon meteors and overthrow Wang Mang, the usurper who ended the Western Han established by Liu Bang and set up his own dynasty.”

“As for Emperors Huan and Ling, they were sovereigns late in the Eastern Han who favored eunuchs and laid the groundwork for the chaos caused by the Ten Attendants. Emperor Xian, though not a fool, was simply powerless to turn the tide.”

Liu Ju listened, stunned. He remembered Emperor Gaozu Liu Bang founding the Han—how could there be a distinction between Western and Eastern Han? And who were Liu Xiu and Wang Mang?

Just as he was about to ask further, a boisterous shout rang out from outside the inn.

“Shopkeeper! Shopkeeper! Are you lazing about in broad daylight? That’s no way to run a business!”

Hm? A guest on the very first day?

A look of joy flashed across Zhang Bo’s face.

His guesthouse was going to be a hit!

But when he reached the door and saw the face of his guest, Zhang Bo was left utterly dumbfounded.