Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Shang Xueyan stared at the 2,000 yuan for a few seconds. Recently, both he and Shen Mengkun had been working multiple jobs, taking on any work they could find. But the medical expenses were undoubtedly an astronomical sum for the two of them at this point.

Shang Xueyan accepted the transfer. "Thank you."

Shang Xueyan: "I'm sure you'll find a good job too."

After picking for a while, Shang Xueyan finally found a satisfactory emoji. "Spraying luck spray vigorously JPG."

After ending the conversation with Qin Ru, Shang Xueyan placed his phone beside the pillow, closed his eyes, and fell asleep instantly, his body too exhausted to spend even a second awake.

The café where Shang Xueyan worked was located in the city center, following a high-end concept. The requirements for staff were very high: they had to be good-looking, well-groomed, and handsome. The pay was higher than average part-time jobs and much better than package delivery, so there were quite a few attractive staff working at this café. It wasn’t easy to get more shifts.

Shang Xueyan’s shift was from 9 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. After finishing his part-time job at the café, he quickly changed into a blue work vest, put on his helmet, and got ready to deliver food.

On his way to pick up an order, Shang Xueyan passed by a temple with abundant incense smoke. He slowed down his e-bike a little.

After delivering a few orders, Shang Xueyan temporarily stopped accepting new ones and rode his used e-bike to the temple.

He locked his helmet and e-bike, removed and stored his vest, straightened his clothes and hair at the temple entrance, then took three incense sticks. After lighting them, he entered the main hall of the temple.

After the previous worshipper finished and left the prayer cushion, Shang Xueyan stepped forward, knelt on both knees on the cushion, looked up at the solemn and compassionate Bodhisattva Guanyin, closed his eyes, and made a wish.

His life a thousand years later was truly miserable. Shen Mengkun was even worse off than him. He didn’t know if his eldest brother had also come to this era after death, but regardless, he hoped his eldest brother could live a good life in this lifetime—preferably with both parents, who doted on him. He didn’t need to be extremely wealthy, but he should at least have food and clothing secured.

Shang Xueyan gazed at the Buddha.

In his previous life, he hadn’t accomplished any great merits—he spent his days eating, drinking, and having fun. But his eldest brother was a prodigy who passed the imperial exams at eighteen, quickly becoming a local magistrate, redressing wrongful convictions, driving out bullies, punishing corrupt officials, working tirelessly day and night, and earning the love of the people. In the end, he died protecting the people under his governance. With such great merits in his previous life, was it too much to ask that his eldest brother be safe, smooth-sailing, and fortunate in this life?

If—

The Bodhisattva Guanyin’s expression was kind. Shang Xueyan looked at her and earnestly prayed: if his eldest brother still faced many hardships in this life, he was willing to take on all those hardships himself. Shang Xueyan could remain poor and unfortunate in this lifetime—just let his eldest brother be blessed.

After closing his eyes and devoutly bowing three times to the Bodhisattva, Shang Xueyan stood up holding the three incense sticks.

Besides the main entrance with its four open doors, the Guanyin Hall had side doors on the left and right for access to the inner courtyard. After standing up straight, Shang Xueyan didn’t look back and walked directly toward the eastern side door.

At the same time, a tall young man holding three red incense sticks, his deep black leather shoes stepping on time-worn stone bricks, stepped over the patterned threshold and slowly entered the Guanyin Hall.

An elderly woman finished making her wish to the Bodhisattva, pressed her hands on the prayer cushion, and slowly straightened her sore back. She accidentally caught sight of the young man entering from the door and was taken aback.

For no particular reason, this young man didn't seem like a believer.

After the woman left, Shang Xianwang stepped forward. The structured shoulders of his suit bent slightly as he knelt, the legs of his suit trousers forming irregular creases.

Shang Xianwang knelt on the prayer cushion and made a wish to the Bodhisattva.

He wished that his younger brother, Shang Xueyan, even a thousand years ago, would be at ease, smooth-sailing, healthy, and safe. After making his wish, Shang Xianwang devoutly bowed three times, stood up, and walked out of the Guanyin Hall through the eastern side door, still holding the three incense sticks.

Exiting the eastern side door led to a traditional *siheyuan* courtyard. There were two other halls on the left and right: the Hall of Heavenly Kings on the left, enshrining Maitreya Bodhisattva and the Four Heavenly Kings, and the Hall of the Medicine Buddha on the right, enshrining a statue of the Medicine Buddha.

Shang Xianwang first entered the Hall of the Medicine Buddha.

Shang Xueyan didn’t go to the Hall of the Medicine Buddha first. He went to the Guanyin Hall first, and after coming out, he paid homage at the Hall of the Medicine Buddha on the right, then went to the Hall of Heavenly Kings facing west. As Shang Xianwang entered the Hall of the Medicine Buddha, he caught a glimpse of a black figure flashing past the side door.

After paying homage to all the Bodhisattvas in the temple, the incense in Shang Xueyan’s hand had burned more than halfway. He inserted them into the large square incense cauldron in the center of the courtyard. Because he was especially solemn, his incense sticks stood straight and neat. Shang Xueyan admired them for a moment, then left satisfied.

There was also a thousand-year-old ancient tree in the temple. Writing wishes on it was said to bring blessings from the tree and the Bodhisattva to make wishes come true. Shang Xueyan spent twenty yuan to buy a red cloth strip, picked up a marking pen nearby, and wrote a line of words.

He hung the red cloth strip on the lush ancient tree, pressed his palms together devoutly, bowed, then walked away from Longxing Temple, jogged to his e-bike, and went back to delivering food.

Shang Xianwang came out of the Hall of Heavenly Kings and inserted his half-burned three incense sticks into the large incense cauldron in the center of the courtyard.

Because he was solemn, his three incense sticks stood straighter than others’. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed three nearly burned-out incense sticks to the side. Among the mostly slightly crooked incense sticks, these three stood exceptionally straight, almost identical to the ones he had placed.

Shang Xianwang took an extra glance, then turned and left Longxing Temple. His assistant had finished worshipping the Bodhisattvas earlier and was waiting for him in the car.

Shang Xianwang opened the rear car door and got in.

The driver asked, "Where to, President Shang?"

"Back to the company."

As soon as Shang Xianwang stepped out of the elevator upon returning to the company, his assistant, Wang Song, hurried over and reported in a low voice, "President Shang, Old Mr. Shang is here. He’s waiting in your office."

Old Mr. Shang was the grandfather of his current body.

Shang Xianwang headed toward his office.

Before he could enter, Shang Huaimin, who had somehow learned of his return, pushed open the office door with his cane, fuming with anger, and came face to face with Shang Xianwang.

Shang Huaimin was over seventy, his hair dyed jet black, but his aged face was full of wrinkles. Seeing that Shang Xianwang had returned, he demanded sharply, "Your brother’s court case starts tomorrow. Are you going to issue a letter of forgiveness or not?"

Shang Xianwang said calmly, "I’ve answered this many times. No."

Shang Huaimin banged his cane on the floor, raising his voice angrily, "He’s your own brother! How can you be so heartless as to send him to jail?"

Shang Xianwang’s expression was indifferent: "I don’t have a brother who tried to kill me with his car."

Shang Huaimin was furious: "But you’re fine now, aren’t you? He knows he was wrong. Is it necessary to ruin his entire life?"

Shang Xianwang turned and called Wang Song: "Assistant Wang, see Old Mr. Shang out of the company."

Wang Song stepped forward quickly. Shang Huaimin shook off the hand trying to assist him and said angrily, "Get lost! Do I need you to see me out?"

He glared discontentedly at Shang Xianwang, who had started handling documents, and raged, "Your brother always said you are a curse to your parents and cut ties with family. I thought he was slandering you. If I had known you would bring about your parents’ deaths and be so vicious toward your own blood brother, I should have strangled you at birth."

Shang Xianwang didn’t even look up, his eyes fixed on the computer screen. The cold white light reflected his unmoved expression. He told Wang Song again, "See Old Mr. Shang out."

Shang Huaimin yelled and cursed at Shang Xianwang for a long time, but seeing that he remained unmoved, he left in a rage, leaning on his cane.

Shang Xianwang leaned back in his chair, stared blankly at the monitor for a few seconds, then bent down and used his fingerprint to open the innermost drawer. Inside a transparent glass box was a palm-length polymer clay figurine.

The figurine was of a boy. His clothes weren’t exaggerated like those in games, nor were they modern everyday wear. They resembled Hanfu attire from a thousand years ago. His thick, dark hair was tied in a topknot, adorned with an exquisite white jade crown.

The figurine’s expression was lively and spirited, with a slight smile at the corners of his mouth. Dressed in a bright red brocade robe, he looked dignified and noble, with a faint dimple on his cheek.

Shang Xianwang raised his thumb and gently stroked the figurine’s cheek. He murmured, "A Yan, only you are my brother."

At 10 p.m., Shang Xianwang returned home from the company. The three-story villa, occupied only by him, felt exceptionally empty and quiet, like a still and lifeless castle.

Shang Xianwang opened the door to the innermost bedroom on the second floor.

He pressed the light switch, and the dark room instantly became bright.

The spacious room had display cases along the walls, filled with various polymer clay figurines. Some were palm-sized, some even smaller, wearing all kinds of clothing—ivory-white robes, golden garments, scarlet robes, mostly various styles of An Dynasty clothing. Among the hundreds of figurines carefully enclosed in glass, a few rare ones wore hoodies and black trousers, as if living in the same era as Shang Xianwang.

Shang Xianwang scanned the room filled with his figurines. The vast majority had the exact same face—some smiling, some angry, all lifelike and expressive. A few middle-aged figures served as supporting characters, accompanying that one figurine.

Shang Xianwang took a dark blue riding outfit polymer clay doll in his hand and touched the top of its head. A moment later, he sat down at the workbench and first dialed a call.

"CEO Shang," answered a middle-aged man on the other end.

"Speaking," Shang Xianwang’s throat tightened slightly. "Have you found any historical materials about Shang Hengan’s biological younger brother yet?"

Professor Chen Jiaping, an expert in An Dynasty history, replied regretfully, "I’m sorry, CEO Shang. There are still no historical materials related to him."

"I appreciate your help, Professor Chen. Please notify me if any relevant historical materials are discovered."

After hanging up, Shang Xianwang placed his phone aside. The doll's eyelids were slightly raised, its gaze meeting his, smiling happily. Shang Xianwang’s throat tightened uncontrollably. He lowered his eyes and gently kissed the polymer clay doll's cool brow.

Placing the doll on the workbench, he turned on the overhead light and began kneading the clay. He had already shaped the body and head of the new doll a few days earlier; all that remained was painting its clothes.

At 3 a.m., Shang Xianwang opened the oven and took out the palm-sized doll.

The small doll had short black hair and wore sky blue pajamas. Its eyes were tightly closed, clearly in a deep sleep, yet a content smile lingered at the corners of its lips, as if it were having a pleasant dream.

Once the polymer clay had cooled, Shang Xianwang held the doll in his palm, staring at its sleeping face for a long while before finally rising to place it on a clay-made golden nanmu canopy bed. He covered it with a glass case and gazed at the sleeping Shang Xueyan for a long time, as if he was actually asleep before him.

Shang Xianwang whispered "Good night" to him.

Half-asleep, Shang Xueyan felt as if he were dreaming—dreaming that he was lying on his familiar golden nanmu canopy bed.

Before dawn, Shang Xueyan got up. He wasn’t scheduled to work at the café today, nor did he have to deliver food. The previous evening, he had landed a role—not just a one or two-day extra part, but a six-day shoot for a relatively important minor role with decent pay.

As he finished getting ready to leave, Shang Xueyan received a call from the casting director of the production. Thinking the director was reminding him not to be late, given the importance of his role, Shang Xueyan answered.

"Director Zhou, I’ve already left home. Don’t worry, I won’t be late."

"You’ve already left?" Director Zhou sounded surprised.

Shang Xueyan chuckled awkwardly, "I live quite far away."

Director Zhou cleared his throat. "Well, Shang Xueyan, you don’t need to come."

Shang Xueyan’s steps faltered as he descended the stairs. "Why not? Director Zhou, was the schedule changed? Are my scenes not being filmed today?"

Director Zhou didn’t hide the truth. "Did you offend Tianli's Lu Han? Our director has some ties with Lu Han, so your role has been recast."

After delivering the news, Director Zhou hung up.

Clutching the disconnected phone, Shang Xueyan cursed Lu Han a few times. Honestly, in his previous life, with his parents and eldest brother protecting him, even in the capital where nobles were commonplace, Shang Xueyan had never been treated unfairly.

But after crossing a millennium, being bullied had become almost routine. After all, he was just a good-looking but impoverished young man.

Shang Xueyan, easygoing, cursed Lu Han a few more times before making new plans for the day. Since he couldn’t act today, he would go back to delivering food.

He reassured himself, thinking his luck wasn’t all bad. Recently, several food delivery platforms were running promotions, so there was no shortage of orders. Plus, the weather was pleasant—neither bitterly cold nor scorching hot.

Shang Xueyan quickly cheered himself up.

Since he had expected to be filming for the next week, he hadn’t scheduled any shifts at the café. After a few days of delivering food, he found another part-time job: handing out flyers while wearing a mascot costume.

The costume was particularly heavy, but the employer was generous, offering high pay. On this day, instead of delivering food, Shang Xueyan stood on the street distributing flyers for a new store.

Dressed in a bright Pikachu costume, he attracted the attention of children and passersby. He handed flyers to adults with children or to young men and women, promoting an art training class.

The temperatures had been relatively low in previous days, hovering around 10°C, but today it suddenly warmed up, exceeding 20°C.

Sweltering in the heavy mascot suit, Shang Xueyan diligently handed out flyers, sweat soaking his chest and back. An employee from the training center came out, patted his shoulder, and handed him a bottle of water.

At a red light, Shang Xianwang stepped on the brake. During the brief wait, his gaze drifted casually out the window. Pedestrians on the asphalt street wore low-saturation colors, blending into the background, but the man in the bright yellow Pikachu costume instantly caught his eye, becoming the most striking presence in his field of vision.

He inadvertently noticed a young woman pat the mascot’s shoulder and hand him a bottle of water. The Pikachu, still holding flyers, passed the remaining ones to her and raised its arms to remove the bright yellow Pikachu head.

A strikingly pale neck was revealed, followed by what should have been the jawline. As the red light turned green and the car in front of him started moving, Shang Xianwang withdrew his gaze from the insignificant Pikachu, released the brake, and gently pressed the accelerator to drive forward.

On the asphalt road he paid no further attention to, the young man completely removed the heavy Pikachu head. Under the golden sunlight, his sweat-drenched face was exposed.

Author's Note: