Chapter Thirty-One: A Heart-to-Heart Conversation in the Depths of Night

“Are you sure you’re not mistaken? This Yunizi doesn’t seem quite like the person you described.” Ming Tian was beginning to doubt Yin Chan’s knowledge of history.

The first day he met Yin Chan on the mountain’s far side, this woman—who had been a man in her previous life—had displayed an impressive command of historical knowledge. As Ming Tian had studied traditional medicine in his past life, and by the year 2548, Chinese medicine had reached its zenith—able to cure most terminal illnesses and requiring rigorous examinations with a deep familiarity with ancient history—he’d found her knowledge impressive.

But now, Ming Tian found himself questioning her expertise.

At that moment, Yin Chan was in Ming Tian’s room, sipping hot water, her jade brows tightly knit. She shook her head, then nodded, clearly lost in thought.

“Pan Yu’er was certainly no good,” she said. “I know a lot about the history of the Northern and Southern Dynasties. I’ve read many novels set in that era. If you compare Emperor Xiao Baojuan to King Zhou of Shang, then Pan Yu’er’s ruinous influence over the state is no less than that of Daji.”

“Oh, really?”

Ming Tian remained unconvinced. He gestured toward the adjacent room with a pursed mouth. “From what I’ve seen, this Yunizi is just a timid, ordinary beauty. She doesn’t put on any airs. Aside from her rather strange taste in admiring An Luo, she’s not much different from any innocent young girl.”

As he spoke, some jealousy crept into Ming Tian’s expression, his brow furrowing even tighter.

“Sir An Luo, where are you from?” came a voice from the next room.

“I… I’m a Qianhu in the Di Tribe’s Zhenfeng Army!”

“No wonder your skills are so remarkable. There’s something I don’t understand—may I ask you a question, Sir An Luo?”

“Wh-what is it?”

“Have you taken a wife?”

A splutter was heard as An Luo choked on his tea, ending the conversation next door.

Compared to An Luo’s flustered state, Yunizi was far more forward, her admiration an endless stream of affection that Ming Tian could almost taste.

“Well, at least she’s quite bold,” he muttered, taking another sip of water, though his fingers tightened on the teacup until it almost cracked.

Yin Chan pondered for a long time, then looked up. “What if she’s just pretending? Faking this innocence?”

“To what end?” Ming Tian’s three-word retort immediately dismissed her speculation.

After all, it was Ming Tian who had rescued Yunizi, and he hadn’t revealed his identity. There was no reason for her to act.

“And let me tell you,” Ming Tian continued, pointing at his eyes with two fingers, “I used to be an executive assistant. My previous boss was worth billions. To protect him, I learned cold reading techniques. If someone’s bluffing, I can see right through them. That really is her personality!”

“That’s so odd.” Yin Chan propped her chin on her palm, looking like a girl stumped by a math problem, lost in thought.

From the other room came more of Yunizi’s praise for An Luo.

An Luo’s voice sounded tense.

Ming Tian couldn’t help but be impressed; An Luo wasn’t as dull as he seemed. After realizing he stood no chance with the Princess, An Luo became instantly smitten with Yin Chan—and that infatuation ran deep. Strangely enough, even after Yunizi, a stunning beauty, began to show him affection for reasons unknown, An Luo remained unmoved and devoted all his attention to Yin Chan.

Even though Yin Chan had been a man in her previous life.

Still, Ming Tian had to respect An Luo’s unwavering devotion.

“Listen,” he said, “you’re a woman in this life; you should accept it. An Luo may be a bit plain, but if you gave him a chance, you wouldn’t lose out.”

This wasn’t just teasing. Ming Tian had known An Luo for a week now. Though he’d never been particularly friendly, after the bandit skirmish, he’d come to genuinely appreciate this strong, loyal man.

Yin Chan puffed out her cheeks, shaking her head stubbornly in a way that was both cute and jarringly out of place. “No way! I’m straight!”

“You’d better be prepared for your plan to fail and to be stuck in this era forever.”

“Then I’ll stay single my whole life! Or maybe find a woman! But I’ll never marry a man.”

“So bold?”

“Yes! That’s exactly right! Even if I don’t actually have one anymore.”

“Fine, suit yourself.”

Ming Tian could tell she truly had no intention of changing—and her thoughts weren’t on romance at the moment. After another sip of water, Yin Chan set her clay bowl down on the table with a heavy thud, making Ming Tian’s heart skip a beat.

Easy, now—these bowls are expensive in this era, a hundred and fifty coins for one! And this table is rosewood; scratch it and that’s four taels of silver. I only have eighteen taels and fifty coins left—I’d rather not beg my way to Jiankang.

“Something’s off, definitely off,” Yin Chan muttered in frustration.

“Never mind Yunizi’s odd personality—the letter said Chen Xianda and Xiao Yaoguang are also at the Lanling commandery office, which is highly unusual.”

“Normally, it’s the second month of Yongyuan now. Chen Xianda should be fighting alongside Cui Huijing in the five commanderies of Yongzhou against Wei. He shouldn’t enter the capital until late March or early April, which is when he famously retires upon his pillow. As for Xiao Yaoguang, he should be in Jiankang with Emperor Ming, caught up in palace intrigue—what’s he doing in southern Lanling?”

“And Wang Jingze shouldn’t be presenting Yunizi to the emperor at this time either. That happens in the second year of Yongtai. Right now, he should be drinking and carousing in Wuxing. And who is this ‘Duke of Lanling, Qi Guli’? There’s no such figure in the historical records.”

All these questions left Yin Chan’s head spinning.

Ming Tian didn’t know the stories, but he could still grasp the implications: history had changed.

He had arrived here twenty days ago; Yin Chan, seventeen years ago. But neither was the first—earlier, that foolish swordsman they’d just dispatched in the alley had claimed to have been here for thirty-two years.

The more Ming Tian pondered, the more he felt there was only one explanation.

“Butterfly effect,” he said, his tone more serious than usual. “We travelers were never meant to exist in this era, but here we are, forced by some deity to accomplish some great undertaking. That deity probably wants to prevent us from settling in comfortably.”

He took another drink—so much water he was getting anxious, but he held it in and continued.

“To achieve these great deeds, every traveler has to take action. That’s why there’s an alliance of travelers and the Wonton Rippers. Every move we make affects history. Like Yu Baoqing—you said he wasn’t supposed to be the governor of Douhu Prefecture. History may already be shifting because of our presence.”

Yin Chan nodded repeatedly. “That must be it.”

Since things had already veered off course, Yin Chan’s historical knowledge could serve only as a reference, no longer as a reliable guide.

Damn it, Ming Tian thought. That’s why I hate group transmigration—so many people crammed into one era, throwing history into disarray.

With that, he made up his mind. “No matter what, we’ve saved Yunizi—that’s good karma and a stroke of luck. So tomorrow, we must personally escort her to the Lanling commandery office. But with history changed, we can’t distinguish who’s loyal or treacherous among these historical figures. There’s a risk.”

As he spoke, Ming Tian slapped the token An Luo had given him onto the table.

He had little affection for Yin Chan—at best, they were partners—but she was the only one he could rely on now.

“Tomorrow’s trip to Lanling might be dangerous, but it’s a risk we have to take if we want to accomplish our task. Yin Chan, you stay behind and keep my token. If anything happens to An Luo or me, take it to the Princess and tell her I’m sorry. Then find the Travelers’ Alliance yourself—consider it a favor I owe you.”

That was resolve.

Ming Tian had lost all hope in this era. As a modern man, a white-collar worker with little survival skill, he felt it was a miracle he’d made it this far.

He had to accomplish his task. Better to die than live out a lifetime here.

His determination to succeed was second to none.

Chen Xianda, Qi Guli, Xiao Yaoguang, and Wang Jingze—history had changed so much that even the notorious Consort Pan now acted like a pure young girl. Who’s to say those four wouldn’t turn out to be ruthless killers?

But to accomplish the great task, Ming Tian felt the fifty-fifty risk was worth it.

Sadly, there was no one left he could trust. An Luo had to go with him; that way, even if something happened, there was a slim chance for survival. So, he had no choice but to place some trust in Yin Chan.

Yet Yin Chan refused.

She stared at him for two seconds before pushing the token back. “You keep it. I won’t deliver it to the Princess for you.”

“Uh… what?!”

Ming Tian was stunned.

Hey, I’m making a sincere request here—this is supposed to be a touching moment! Even if you’re not the sentimental type, you should at least say, ‘Alright, don’t die, brother,’ or something. Raise a flag, play along with the script! When did this era stop following the script? Would it kill you to go along with convention for once?

Just as Ming Tian was grumbling inwardly, Yin Chan smiled.

This woman, who had been a man in her former life, smiled so radiantly in that moment. Though her beauty was not half as striking as the Princess or Consort Pan, it was captivating nonetheless.

“If you truly care for the Princess, you should live and go to her in glory, not bring her bad news. Besides…I’m not someone who forgets a debt. We may not be friends yet, but I owe you my life, and I intend to repay it.”

She paused, her gaze sharp as a blade.

“We’re up against four of the greatest powers of this age. I’ve got over sixty years of life experience behind me. Don’t think you’re the only one who knows how to talk or network. If things go wrong and I have to escape, this is the perfect chance to test my latest invention.”

…