Chapter 2 Transmigration

Chapter 2: Transmigration

A dull pain throbbed in the back of Cheng Ge's head, and everything was pitch black. Suddenly, a flash of white light blazed like daylight, followed by thunder that nearly blew out his eardrums.

Rain suddenly poured down, carrying the faint smell of mud and grass.

Cheng Ge's mind was hazy; his lips twitched as he forced his eyes open a crack.

"Did you check over there? See anyone?" A voice approached, hard to hear over the rain, somewhat indistinct.

Cheng Ge tried to figure out where the voice was coming from, but his head hurt so bad he couldn't focus.

"Nope, no one here. Let's check somewhere else." Another voice chimed in.

"Damn it, the prey got away, you useless idiots!" He kicked one of his guys.

Cheng Ge wanted to yell for help, but something felt wrong. He was lying face-down in the grass.

His mind couldn't make sense of anything, but his gut told him to keep quiet.

"Boss, let's head back for now. That kid's poisoned. He can't have gone far. It's pitch black and pouring rain. Hard to search."

The tension was thick. Cheng Ge gripped the grass, trying to make himself invisible, trying to blend into the darkness.

"Damn it, when I find him, I'll wreck him!" The boss's voice was full of spite.

The footsteps faded away, and only then did Cheng Ge's body slowly relax, the fear finally fading.

He pulled his face out of the dirt, trying to get up, but a rush of blood came up.

"Bleh—" He coughed up a mouthful of black blood, his world spun as his life flashed before his eyes, even catching a glimpse of his great-grandma's ghost.

Cheng Ge's limbs felt weaker and weaker. He tried to get up but collapsed again.

He thought, I'm screwed. I'm coughing up blood. Am I gonna die?

He still had so much money left in his account, and that flashy red sports car he'd just parked in the garage—he hadn't even taken it for a drive yet.

And where the hell was he, anyway? Who were those thugs? Were they trying to steal his kidneys?

If he remembered right, he'd just had a little fight with his roommate, then got knocked out by some dirty trick. Did that bastard Zhou Ming dump his body somewhere? Damn, after being roommates, that's just cold—couldn't he at least have tried to wake him up?

Forget it, he'd deal with it later. His head was killing him.

As the old saying goes, just sleep on it and everything will be fine.

With that thought, the nearly dead Cheng Ge closed his eyes peacefully.

When he woke up again, it was three days later.

"Master, is he dead?" A childish voice sounded nearby.

A wrinkled hand touched Cheng Ge's nose, then pinched it shut, making him feel like he was suffocating.

"He's not dead. Still alive."

"Master, how do you know?"

"See how red his face is from holding his breath?"

"Oh, I see. Let me try too..."

Cheng Ge: "..."

Panicked, Cheng Ge's eyes flew open, afraid he'd be played to death if he didn't wake up.

Before him stood a white-haired but vigorous old man and a child of five or six.

Seeing him awake, the child bounced with excitement. "Master, he's alive again!"

"Mm, I see." The old man stroked his white beard.

Lying in bed, staring at the thatched roof, Cheng Ge fell into deep thought.

"Old man... where is this?" His throat was dry and raw, his body feeling like it was falling apart.

"This is my home."

Cheng Ge: "..."

Swallowing hard after hearing that useless answer, he tried a different question. "What... uh... dynasty is this?"

A long silence...

"Master, this guy's an idiot," the child whispered, thinking he was being quiet.

"This is the Great Zhou Dynasty. I was gathering herbs in the mountains two days ago and found you passed out in a ditch."

"I was just asleep."

If silence were gold, everyone would be rolling in it at that moment.

Cheng Ge asked the old man a few more questions, but the more he asked, the more something felt off.

Finally, he was completely thrown off. Because Cheng Ge realized he had...

Transmigrated.

And into that crappy novel Zhou Ming had written. The world had truly gone mad.

Cheng Ge's eyes widened, staring blankly at the roof, looking like he'd died with his eyes open.

"Old man..."

"What is it?" The old man, seeing his state, sounded a bit worried, thinking he was beyond saving.

"I need to pee." The old man quickly called to the child, "Hurry, bring him the chamber pot."

Cheng Ge looked at the chamber pot, his face darkening. He'd never used such a thing in his life. "How the hell am I supposed to use this?"

The old man glanced at him like he was an idiot. "What kind of question is that? Drop your pants and let it rip."

Didn't he know that? But who in their right mind would use this thing?

"I'll just go outside." Cheng Ge gritted his teeth.

The old man, probably getting on in years and short on patience, said, "Suit yourself."

The little kid bounced ahead to lead the way, and Cheng Ge followed him out of the house.

Outside, the air was fresh, the sunlight warm on his skin, and behind the house was a lush bamboo grove, green and dense.

Of course, the mosquitoes were so thick it was maddening. Cheng Ge hugged the wall, moving as slow as a turtle.

The little kid looked at Cheng Ge, his face a little red, and pointed to the outhouse behind him.

"It's right here," he said, then ran off quickly.

Cheng Ge was about to burst, so he rushed frantically into the outhouse.

"Holy crap!!! Holy crap!!! Ugh..."

Cheng Ge shot out of the outhouse like he'd seen a ghost, his face completely pale.

He bent over against the wall, dry-heaving a few times, but since he hadn't eaten anything, he only managed to cough up a bit of sour liquid.

There was no helping it—that scene was way too shocking, a perfect ecological cycle.

Just thinking about those maggots squirming all over that pile of crap made Cheng Ge's scalp crawl, and he nearly choked on his breath.

He glanced left and right, gritted his teeth, and snuck furtively into the bamboo grove beside him.

After a sound of peeing, Cheng Ge's expression finally eased up a bit.

He looked down without thinking and was instantly struck as if by lightning.

Where were his abs? Now he didn't even bother holding Little Gege, and instead felt his chest.

Damn... he'd turned into a skinny weakling.

He slunk out of the bamboo grove, dejected, feeling a chill not just in his crotch but in his heart too.

When the old man found him, he saw a somewhat wistful silhouette.

There was Cheng Ge, sitting cross-legged on the porch, meditating toward the sunset, the scene looking quite nice.