Chapter Two: Stunned

“Where is this place? How did I get here...?”

“Who are you people? Don’t come any closer! I don’t know you, so stop pretending in front of me. Send me back, I want to go home...!”

Inside the Zhen household, several maids tiptoed nervously along the corridor, carefully avoiding the debris falling from the upper floor. With a sigh, one of them lamented, “It’s over—Young Master has lost his mind again. Just now, he was charging about like a fool, and now...!”

“Stop right there!” An angry shout rang out from upstairs. A young man with disheveled hair stood at the window, pointing at the servants hurrying through the courtyard below. “Why are you sneaking around? You think I don’t know? Where did you hide the cameras? Who’s afraid of a reality show anyway!”

The servants’ faces turned deathly pale, filtering out the nonsense the young man was spouting. Fleeing as if from the plague, they darted out of the courtyard, casting anxious glances over their shoulders. Seeing that the young man hadn’t chased after them this time, they breathed a sigh of relief. Patting her pounding chest, one maid muttered, “Heavens! The Young Master’s madness is getting worse! Hurry, inform the Lady of the House!”

Standing at the window, the young man swept his gaze across the courtyard, noting how even the servants shunned him as if he were diseased. A cold smirk touched his lips. He closed the window carelessly, sat quietly at the desk by the window, and let out a long sigh. Glancing around the room, he shook his head with a bitter smile before sprawling back in his chair, a trace of helplessness and confusion flickering in his eyes.

“What a mess. Did I bring this on myself?”

As his thoughts wandered, the door creaked open, and a shaft of sunlight spilled into the room, falling directly across his face. Instinctively, he raised a hand to shield his eyes and turned toward the doorway. A slender, graceful figure stepped inside, carrying a steaming bowl of medicinal soup. “Young Master, it’s time for your medicine.”

“Your whole family should take medicine, not me!” he retorted.

This young man was Zhen Qian, eldest son of the second branch of the Zhen family. He had just returned from the capital after taking the civil service examination, only to be thrown from his horse at the city gate by the sudden appearance of Meng Xiaoya. Over a dozen days had passed since the accident. Now, Zhen Qian could finally move around his room with the help of the wall. His many bruises were healing, and although splints still bound his limbs, he could walk. But his speech was as bizarre as ever—fortunately, everyone believed he’d gone mad, so no one paid much mind.

The young woman with the medicine was one of Zhen Qian’s two personal maids, named Bamboo. She was sixteen, while the other, Plum, was in the kitchen preparing his supper.

“I’m not drinking that. Take this mess away and pour it out!”

Bamboo’s expression remained unchanged. Accustomed to Zhen Qian’s ramblings, she was unfazed—she only worried he’d knock over the bowl. Carefully, she placed it just out of his reach. “Young Master, don’t be stubborn. If you take your medicine, you’ll get better soon.”

Her tone was as if coaxing a child. Zhen Qian rolled his eyes at her not-quite-beautiful face, then turned away. “You drink it if you like. Leave me alone!”

Seeing he was pouting again, Bamboo gently touched his forehead with her fair wrist. “You look better today, Young Master. It won’t be long before you’re all better!”

He knew his own condition. Though battered and bruised, nothing compared to the pain in his head. The most troubling part was that the current Zhen Qian was no longer the original—he understood little of the people and events around him. Thankfully, his supposed madness served as a shield, so no one suspected the truth.

But things were not as simple as Zhen Qian had imagined. In the past few days, he’d realized that real life in the Tang Dynasty was nothing like the textbooks. Of course, much of what he’d learned had been filtered through later generations’ embellishments, but living in this era was worlds apart from merely reading about it. The people’s perception of his behavior as madness left him exasperated.

“I’m not crazy; I just can’t remember a lot of things... Let me be alone for a while.”

Bamboo’s gaze was as scrutinizing as a woman choosing clothes—looking left, then right. Her soft breath brushed his ear as she asked, “Do you remember what happened when you fell from your horse?”

Zhen Qian shook his head. He remembered nothing. When he opened his eyes, he found himself wrapped like a mummy, surrounded by strangers speaking words he barely understood, their manners bizarre. That was when he realized his predicament. If his nerves hadn’t been so steady, and his body not still alive, he might have died of fright.

Even so, the new environment had shaken him badly, leaving him too afraid to speak.

A collision across more than a thousand years had unfolded in Zhen Qian’s life. Years of navigating the business world had not been in vain; he quickly memorized each face, and their roles soon became clear.

Some genuinely cared for him, weeping bitterly; others feigned concern, dabbing at nonexistent tears, secretly wishing him dead. Still, more looked on in vague pity.

It was one thing to understand what had happened, but quite another to accept it. His familiar world was gone, the people he knew had vanished, and anxiety left him at a loss. Forced to lie motionless in bed, he felt utterly wretched.

“There, be good! Open your mouth and finish your medicine... I even added honey—it’s not bitter at all, it tastes nice!”

Seeing Bamboo coax him as if he were a preschooler, Zhen Qian wanted to laugh. Did she really think he was an idiot?

He turned his head aside. Nothing good would come of that medicine—what if it made him worse, or contained who-knows-what ingredients? Was he their guinea pig?

He didn’t want to die a second time. If he was to be stranded in the Tang Dynasty, so be it. After all, this was the glorious Tang, a cherished dream for those who came after—splendid architecture, a spirit of openness and tolerance, poetry handed down through the ages, legendary figures. Not just anyone could come here; he ought to see it for himself before he died.

For all his resistance, Bamboo was as persistent as a door-to-door salesperson, determined to get the medicine down his throat. “Young Master, didn’t you once say you loved my singing? I’ll sing for you, every day!”

Just as Zhen Qian opened his mouth to retort, a spoonful of bitter medicine was forced in.

“This is deceit!” he sputtered.

He had no idea if Bamboo was telling the truth—certainly, he doubted her singing was anything special. He’d heard such nonsense so many times before. Was it because they all thought he was mad?

As much as he hated to admit it, the pretense of madness was a useful shield. No matter what outlandish thing he did or said, it didn’t matter—after all, everyone believed he was a fool.

Having tasted the bitter medicine, he immediately spat it out. Bamboo hurried to wipe his mouth with a silk handkerchief. “Young Master, please drink it slowly—there’s plenty more left!”

“Plenty? Are you trying to murder your husband or what!” he blurted.

The term “husband” wasn’t entirely inappropriate. In this household, few truly cared about him—Bamboo was one. Their relationship went beyond master and servant, leading Zhen Qian to curse the original “Zhen Qian” for his shamelessness; how could such a delicate flower be so mistreated?

“Young Master, please get better soon. If anything happens to you, what will become of me and Plum?”

Bamboo’s tears flowed silently, as if aware that Zhen Qian didn’t understand her words. She didn’t mind speaking her heart in front of him. “Young Master, do you know? If you keep on in this daze, this courtyard and us maids will be lost. The Lady plans to send you to the countryside—she claims it’s for your recovery, but really, it’s to drive you out. If that happens, not only me and Plum but even Steward Wang and the others will be bullied by Butler Xing. This household cannot do without you, Young Master!”

“Bamboo, what are you muttering about? Hurry and help me bring in the food!” Another voice called as the door opened again.

A young woman in a soft pink palace gown stepped in, carrying a food box. Her simple lotus bun was held with a jade hairpin. Though her looks were not striking, her gentle demeanor and ever-present smile gave her an air of warmth and grace.

“Plum, is dinner ready?” Bamboo wiped her tears and glanced over with a gentle smile. A few stray locks brushed her cheek, adding a touch of allure. She said with a hint of sarcasm, “It’s the same old dishes again—Young Master is sick of them!”

“His health isn’t good; he needs light food to recover,” Plum replied.

Bamboo pouted, “It’s that Butler Xing again! Ever since Young Master lost his memory, he’s been getting bolder—our food rations keep shrinking. If this goes on, Young Master will never recover. Should we tell Steward Wang?”

“Don’t act rashly!” Plum quickly scolded her. “The whole household is on edge. Butler Xing is just waiting for an excuse to get rid of Steward Wang. You know Young Master is about to be sent away; let’s not make trouble. When he’s better, we’ll tell him everything that’s happened—he’ll stand up for us!”

“But Young Master’s illness...!” Bamboo fretted.

“The doctor said he’s recovering steadily; just another ten days or so and he’ll be fine!”

“And you believe that?” Bamboo pouted, sitting by the bed and gently holding Zhen Qian’s stiff arm. “Plum, our lives are so hard. Young Master is the kindest to us—if anything happens to him, how will we go on?”

“Don’t talk nonsense. The Young Master is getting better,” Plum said, though her eyes betrayed her worry. She tried to convince herself nothing bad would happen. “Old Madam Wang and Chrysanthemum have gone to the temple to pray for him, and Wang Peng and the others are out seeking doctors and medicine. Young Master is blessed by the stars—surely the gods will protect him. All we need to do is care for him well.”

PS: Thank you to all my readers for your support! Every recommendation, click, and favorite is a great encouragement to the author—please keep them coming!