Chapter 51: Indeed, A Kind Person

Chapter 51: Indeed, A Kind Person

Jiang Xiaoying flipped through the books - there were forty-eight in total, comprising four volumes. All of them were handwritten, with titles such as "The Heaven and Earth Eight Trigrams," "Smiling, Proud World," "Peerless Double Heroes," and "The White-Haired Demoness."

The author's pen name was Jin Guliang.

Staring at her own hands, Jiang Xiaoying noticed the fingertips that had turned black from touching the books: "This is too realistic, right? The charcoal powder has stained my hands."

Tang Fei was still in disbelief. There was someone else in this world who, like her, originated from the same world!

"What is this about?" Jiang Xiaoying opened the first volume of "The Demonic Beauty," flipping through the pages until she held it close, pacing a few steps before settling back onto the bed, gradually losing herself in the story. Her legs crossed on the bed, she completely forgot about maintaining her image for the camera.

With mentions of the Immeasurable Sword, duels, and young men and women, her eyes didn't blink once as she read.

Jiang Xiaoying's words pulled Tang Fei back to reality. She hastily opened the second volume and was surprised to see that every word was meticulously written.

Could this be the original content?

She recalled watching an adaptation of "The Demonic Beauty" on TV during elementary school. Later, the boys in her class discussed it, and she had borrowed the book to read it through. Comparing it now, it seemed highly likely that this was the original text.

Who could be so skilled to pen an original work by hand? Could they also have a system's assistance?

The director outside the door called, "Teacher Tang, are you ready? Time is almost up."

Jiang Xiaoying, with her ears deaf to the world outside, gave no response. Tang Fei opened the door and asked, "Do you know who these books belong to?"

Director: "Books? What books?"

Tang Fei pulled the director inside and pointed at the stack of books and a square hole next to the bed. "These books were dug up from beneath the floor tiles."

Director: "They probably belonged to the previous owner. Let's put them back for now. The mission release for today is about to start."

Tang Fei: "Can you tell me where the former owner is? I'd like to find them."

Director: "Would Teacher Tang like to take on the mission first or look for the person?"

Tang Fei hesitated for a moment, then her gaze sharpened. "Are you trying to trap me? Does finding the person mean I won't be able to receive the mission?"

The director put on a fake smile.

Tang Fei: "I told you so. Let's take on the mission first."

...

Tang Fei rewrapped the book, and Jiang Xiaoying was already hooked. After only a few chapters, she couldn't resist the urge to know what would happen next with Duan Yu, Zhong Ling, and Mu Wanqing.

It took them over ten minutes to regain their composure. Jiang Xiaoying pointed at the mosquito bites on her neck and arms, addressing the camera, "These are all from mosquitoes. I'd rather die than be at the bottom. The mosquitoes here are so cunning – they disappear when I try to swat them and emerge when I'm asleep."

They assembled in the village's largest threshing ground. Xiao Yuan was the most energetic, while Song Li looked the most exhausted, despite her heavy makeup failing to conceal her dark circles.

Tang Fei and Jiang Xiaoying were both preoccupied – one with thoughts of hometown friends in the same world, the other engrossed in the novel's narrative.

The threshing ground was surrounded by cameras, and He Zhuhua stood in the center. "Ladies, this is Wangzhuang Village, with its lush green hills and golden wheat fields. You might not have had the chance to explore it yesterday. Today's mission will help you gain a deeper understanding of this place."

"Today's mission: Learn Qinxi dialect within 48 hours. One point can buy an extra hour of study time, while negative points will reduce your time accordingly.

Your dialect teacher is a renowned local host, Guo Lu.

He's currently waiting for you in the most picturesque wheat field in Wangzhuang Village. Class starts at nine; tardiness won't be tolerated. Everybody, hurry and find your teacher!"

On April 4th, we have one day to communicate with the outside world. On April 5th, we'll have an assessment. Those who fail the dialect learning will be directly eliminated."

Upon hearing He Zhuhua's words, the three people present dispersed in a hurry. Only Tang Fei didn't rush away immediately; instead, she was pulled along by Jiang Xiaoying, who had run back for her.

Tang Fei: "Go ahead, Little Ying. I need to find the original homeowner."

Jiang Xiaoying: "I'll accompany you. Either we both learn or neither of us do. We'll be eliminated together."

Tang Fei: "Focus on your mission. Who said I wasn't going to learn? Quit mentioning elimination. I'm quick at learning languages, and I can catch up even if I miss a day."

She practiced her ventriloquism skill daily, and her proficiency had already increased by 1.8%. Ventriloquism imitation was right up her alley.

Jiang Xiaoying: "What?! Are you serious?"

I don't believe it!

Tang Fei: "I promise I'll score higher than you in the assessment."

Jiang Xiaoying's competitive spirit was instantly ignited. How could she let Tang Fei score higher after skipping just one day of class? She wouldn't allow her master to look down on her: "I'll definitely study seriously."

Tang Fei: "Come on, it'd be embarrassing if your score is lower than mine."

Jiang Xiaoying: "No worries! I have confidence in my language learning abilities too!"

After they parted ways, Jiang Xiaoying felt lost. She tugged at her hair, and on the road, she encountered Song Li. Their bewildered gazes met, both recognizing the shared sense of being directionally challenged.

Where was the most beautiful wheat field? Indeed, the search would capture the entire picturesque Wangzhuang Village on camera.

However, it would also prove challenging for the guests.

Meanwhile, Tang Fei accompanied the director into the village chief's home in Wangzhuang Village.

The village chief served tea to Tang Fei and the filming crew. Upon hearing Tang Fei take out a book and explain her purpose, he expressed regret, "The original owner of that kiln had mental health issues. He was a pitiful man. He had just been married for a year when his wife passed away during childbirth, along with their child. The shock caused him to faint in the house and hit his head, leading to brain damage. After that, he became confused, asking around where he was, what era it was, wanting to see primary and middle school textbooks, and asking about someone named Jin Long. Then, he claimed he was destined for success.

He had no money, so he said he wanted to write a novel to make his fortune and asked to purchase paper on credit. When people heard about his condition, they refused to lend him more. He talked about how fortunes can change in thirty years, vowing to repay the store owner with ten or a hundred times the amount once he became rich."

Ah, what a shame for such a fine person."

The village chief picked up the book and flipped through it. Despite the unappealing handwriting, the sentences flowed smoothly, and there were no mistakes in the characters. Recalling the past, he couldn't help but shed tears: "He was a distant uncle of my father's generation. When we were kids, we all thought he was mad or foolish. To think that he actually wrote something – I never would have expected that.

When I was young, he even gave me candy and asked for charcoal from my home.

They always said he never attended literacy classes and couldn't read a single character. This..."

Having grasped the general situation, Tang Fei understood the backstory. The predecessor had transmigrated into the body of a man whose wife and children had passed away, leaving him deeply devastated. He had attempted to earn his first fortune by selling novels, only to be labeled as crazy. Tang Fei wasn't interested in hearing nostalgic tales; she urgently needed to know where this fellow villager was now.

"Village Chief, what about the original homeowner? Where is he now?"

This villager had arrived many years before her and might even be a grandparently figure by now.

She wondered how he had come and if he too had a system.

The village chief put down his book, wiped away tears from the corners of his eyes, and said with great emotion, "He's no longer with us. He locked himself in the house for two years. He didn't know how to farm or cook, and without anyone sending him meals, he wouldn't eat. He just sat there writing every day. Eventually, he suffered from malnutrition, and when he passed away, he still kept saying that he wasn't willing to accept it."

Tang Fei's enthusiasm and hope were suddenly crushed, as if doused by a bucket of icy water.

Actually, if that fellow villager had really survived, these books wouldn't be buried underground; they would have been circulated worldwide a long time ago.

Perhaps he would now be a wealthy tycoon, putting his words into action by using money to overwhelm others.

It was her deep longing for the original world that made her overlook the issues and pin such great hopes on them.

With no hope of meeting the fellow villager, Tang Fei looked at the books again and realized that they were a treasure – not just a treasure to sell for money, but also a massive intellectual property (IP) with potential for a hit film or TV series.

Tang Fei said, "I really like these books and would like to help the original owner publish them. However, there doesn't seem to be an heir to inherit his assets. I wonder how I should go about purchasing the copyright?"

The village chief was still unaware of the value of the books. At best, he thought that the old uncle wasn't truly mad and it was a pity that he had passed away.

But selling the books for money?

Wasn't that a joke? His old uncle wasn't a renowned author; how much could those books possibly earn? He might even have to pay to get them published.

"You can take them if you want. As long as they're published, my old uncle would be happy even in his grave. It would be fulfilling his dream."

Tang Fei pondered for a moment. She couldn't simply take the books for free. Although they didn't legally belong to the original owner, he had devoted himself to transcribing them over two years, damaging his health in the process. He had certainly put in the effort.

In a way, she was also a conduit between two worlds.

"If the publication is successful, half of the earnings will go towards investing in the village's film and television base, while the other half will establish a literary fund. This will serve as a reward and support for anyone who wishes to write novels, songs, or scripts but struggles to find understanding."

Could it be that her existence, along with this senior, suggests that there might be others who have crossed over from her world?

Perhaps this literary fund could assist her in finding fellow compatriots.

After the village chief saw them off, he kept sighing, feeling a sense of injustice for his elderly uncle. He could now somewhat grasp the bitterness of not being able to close one's eyes in peace upon hearing about his death.

Yet, he didn't quite understand why Tang Fei held such high regard for these books.

Setting up a fund and investing sound as unrealistic as deciding how to spend a five million lottery prize in a dream.

"What a kind soul, willing to take a loss just to give my old uncle some comfort and fulfill his dreams. All because of a day in the kiln, being an actor seems to make one rather sentimental."