Chapter Two: Will Tomorrow Be Better? There's No Such Thing

The instant the voice sounded, time came to a halt. It was as though everything under heaven and earth, save for Zhuge Buliang’s own thoughts, had been frozen solid. Even the fireworks above remained suspended at the moment of their blooming.

“What’s going on?”

No one answered the doubt that rose in Zhuge Buliang’s mind. Instead, the voice in his head sounded again.

“Accept your fate. This is the transmigration humans are so fond of, and this is the reality of transmigration.”

“Who are you? Why are you in my head?”

Though Zhuge Buliang replied thus, deep within his thoughts he secretly rejoiced—could it be that things were following the usual script, and some great power was about to bestow a cheat upon him?

The voice was deep and sonorous, each word resounding like an ancient bell in his mind, yet it answered Zhuge Buliang’s question with another question.

“You, Ming Tian, in your previous life were a penniless loser, always blaming the world, numbing yourself with novels and daydreams, and in the end, you died in a car accident. In this life, I’ve let you transmigrate here to become Zhuge Buliang, the scion of a wealthy family. Are you satisfied?”

“Satisfied? Like hell I am!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Zhuge Buliang cursed in his heart, “Is this any kind of life? The name is already ridiculous, but at least give me a cheat, right?”

“A cheat? Who told you transmigrators are guaranteed a cheat? Isn’t the advantage of a modern mind in an ancient world enough? If you still need a cheat, just how useless are you?”

The voice let out a mocking chuckle, as though ridiculing Ming Tian—now Zhuge Buliang—for his naivete.

“Human progress has always relied on wisdom. The so-called cheat is just proof that its holder is a waste. If you had true ability, would you even need one? Come on, you were over thirty before transmigrating—try being realistic, will you?”

“Damn, you can freeze time and communicate with my mind, and you still tell me to be realistic?” Ming Tian—Zhuge Buliang—was taken aback. Realizing this wasn’t the usual pattern, he cursed again, “So if you’re not here to give me a cheat, what the hell are you? Why are you here?”

“I am God.”

The voice was even more teasing, though the answer itself fit the usual trope, and Ming Tian found himself nodding, recognizing the supposed identity.

The self-proclaimed “God” spoke with even more mockery, “I’m here, naturally, to mess with you. Well? Surprised? Did you think you were about to become awesome?”

“Screw y—” Ming Tian was surprised to find that as soon as he tried to swear, the key words vanished from his thoughts. Even though he was cursing in his mind, the foul language was somehow erased before it could be voiced.

The voice snickered, as though finding Ming Tian’s inability to swear utterly ridiculous, but now there was a hint of weariness in its tone.

“To be honest, I’m sick to death of having to show up and explain things to every transmigrator in every world. This job is such a hassle. And you all make the same dumb faces when you hear I’m God—at first, I thought you were just pretending to be amazed, and it was amusing, but after seeing it so many times, I just want to vomit. Do you have any idea how stressful it is to be God?”

Good grief, God is actually complaining to me about his work stress like some old man about to retire? What kind of trope is this?

“Ugh, I don’t feel like rambling on. Listen up. You’re a transmigrator. In this backward era without supernatural abilities, you have to rely on your own skills and intelligence to accomplish a feat only you can achieve.”

As he spoke, God’s pace quickened, his words emotionless, as though he were reading a speech he’d recited thousands of times, devoid of the slightest passion.

“This feat is up to you—you could become the greatest general, the wisest emperor, the most learned sage. If you succeed, I’ll let you be reborn in your original world. If you fail, you die here.”

“What about my cheat?”

“There isn’t one.”

“Peerless martial arts?”

“I told you, no powers. This is the ancient world, of course there aren’t any.”

“At least give me a guide to picking up girls?”

“If you can’t even win over a girl in this uncivilized era, then you deserve to die here, you pathetic loser. I’m busy. When you accomplish your feat, we’ll have plenty of time to talk. Adios, amigo.”

“Come on, you’re using Spanish now? At least respect the historical setting!”

The voice ignored him. Through this rapid exchange, it was clear the so-called God was losing patience and was about to let time flow once more.

In Ming Tian’s mind, the final words of the self-proclaimed God lingered: “By the way, I’ve noticed you transmigrators all love to swear. Try to be more civilized, will you? It affects my performance review, you know? So I’ve given you a debuff—starting now, any foul language you say in reality will be replaced by a [beep]. Do your best. I’m rooting for you.”

“Performance review? What the [beep] is that all about?!” Ming Tian shouted to the heavens. He found he’d regained control of his body, and this outburst also confirmed the existence of the debuff.

Looking down, Ming Tian saw his parents, the household staff, and the maids all staring at him as if he were mad. None of them seemed to understand why he was cursing at himself, nor what that [beep] noise was supposed to mean.

Facing these uncivilized ancient people, Ming Tian fell into deep thought.

A loser? Dying in this era?

Accomplish a great feat? Return to the future?

Ming Tian had always been someone who refused to admit defeat. Even if he’d been a nobody before transmigrating, he’d always tried in his own way to become someone of importance.

And now, here, provoked by a voice claiming to be God…

He was challenged.

“Father, my courtesy name hasn’t been chosen yet, has it?” Ming Tian let go of the rope, lowered his head, and addressed his father in this life—Zhuge Fang.

Zhuge Fang was startled, not sure why his son had suddenly brought this up, but he nodded blankly.

Ming Tian smiled faintly. “Then I’ve decided. My name is Zhuge Buliang, and my courtesy name is Ming Tian.”

“My son…you…” Zhuge Fang still hadn’t recovered from Ming Tian’s abrupt transformation. Glancing at the servants and his wife, he saw they were equally stunned, unable to comprehend what their young master was saying.

But in any case, his son no longer seemed intent on ending his life, which brought Zhuge Fang considerable relief.

Ming Tian jumped off the stool. Outside, the voices of the cook and the tailor begging for mercy could be heard once more.

No matter what, he couldn’t let innocent people lose their lives because of his momentary caprice. He was, after all, a man in his thirties in his previous life, not some adolescent crying “every man for himself.” He still had a conscience.

With this in mind, Ming Tian imitated the gestures he’d seen in television dramas, cupping his hands and bowing to his father. “Father, I was impulsive just now. Please forgive your child. Spare the cook and the tailor.”

Seeing his child come to his senses, Zhuge Fang was overjoyed and nodded repeatedly.

“Good, good, as long as you’re happy, anything is fine!” With that, Zhuge Fang turned and called outside, “Bring the cook and the tailor here!”

Beside him, his mother, Lady Fang, came over, her handkerchief soaked with tears from worry. “Buliang, you nearly scared your mother to death just now. If there’s something troubling you, can’t you tell me?”

Ming Tian smiled gently. “Mother, you worry too much. I was only upset that the food here is too bland and the tea too bitter. But now I realize, executing the cook and tailor would accomplish nothing. Better to spare their lives and let me teach them instead.”

Teach them?

Zhuge Fang and Lady Fang were even more bewildered by this.

“I’ll cook for you,” Ming Tian continued, not mincing words.

A great feat, is it? Isn’t it just making a name for oneself? Fine! I refuse to believe that, with a high school education, I’m doomed to be a good-for-nothing rich kid in ancient times!

You stingy, second-rate [beep] of a god won’t give me a cheat? No matter! I am my own cheat.

…