Prologue The protagonist would never place his trust in the Donglin Faction, nor would he ever rely on the plump-faced official.

Saturday, August 12th, 2017. After dinner, Zhu Xiaoqi was just about to play some games. He had barely turned on his computer when the door swung open with a bang. His nine-year-old sister, Zhu Zhouqin, marched in and plopped herself down on his bed. “Brother, you’re about to play games again, aren’t you?”

“No, no, of course not! Aren’t I supposed to help you look up information? How could I be playing games?” As a devoted brother, Zhu Xiaoqi straightened up and replied firmly, “Big brother’s finally off for the next two days and promised to take us to Shennongjia. I’ll definitely help you research all the places we’ll visit—and especially the food. I’ll make sure little sis has the best time and eats to her heart’s content.”

“That’s more like it,” Zhu Zhouqin said, feigning arrogance. “I knew my brother was the best. Make sure you really do your research, though. If I catch you playing games before you’re done, you’ll be sorry!” She shook her little fist threateningly, waved it at him, and headed for the door.

“Your wish is my command, Your Highness!” Zhu Xiaoqi performed a knightly salute he’d seen on TV, making her giggle.

Zhu Xiaoqi had an older brother, Zhu Xiaotian, a police officer—not a blood brother, but adopted by their parents since childhood. Yet, he was closer than any real sibling. Zhu Xiaotian happened to be free for the next two days and planned to take his younger siblings to Shennongjia, so Zhu Zhouqin had assigned Zhu Xiaoqi the daunting task of researching everything about Shennongjia, especially all the delicious foods, with strict instructions not to miss a single item.

Resigning himself to his sister’s mission, Zhu Xiaoqi put aside his games and started gathering information about Shennongjia. After about half an hour, he compiled everything into a document and sent it to his phone. Just then, his QQ avatar began blinking. He opened it and saw it was that guy from the so-called “Parallel Universe Administration Bureau No. 1.”

This person had added him some time ago and, for reasons unknown, seemed oddly interested in a high schooler like him—often asking him questions, especially about history. Poor Zhu Xiaoqi was a typical history novice, his knowledge limited to what little he’d learned from textbooks, and he hadn’t even learned that well. Still, he refused to admit his ignorance and often argued furiously with Parallel Universe Administration Bureau No. 1. Now, another round was about to begin.

“Piggy, do you think if Emperor Chongzhen hadn’t executed Yuan Chonghuan, the Ming dynasty might have survived?” Judging by the tone, the questioner wasn’t much older than him.

Zhu Xiaoqi actually knew something about this topic, having read the novel “Sword Stained with Royal Blood” over the summer, which featured Yuan Chonghuan. He replied, “Of course. If Chongzhen hadn’t killed him, the Manchus wouldn’t have entered China, and the Ming wouldn’t have fallen.”

“Oh, so you think that. Actually, I agree. Tell me, if someone else had been emperor, would Ming’s fate have changed?” Strangely, Parallel Universe Administration Bureau No. 1 didn’t argue this time.

“Definitely! If I were emperor and didn’t execute Yuan Chonghuan, and made good use of the Donglin Faction, the Ming would never have perished.”

“Yes, yes,” today the administrator was uncharacteristically agreeable. “Would you like to be Emperor Chongzhen?”

Zhu Xiaoqi at least knew that the Ming dynasty was already in decline during Chongzhen’s reign, so he was about to say “I want to” but caught himself: “Actually, I’d like to be emperor before Chongzhen. That way, I’d have more time to save the dynasty.”

“Chongzhen’s predecessor was Emperor Tianqi, Chongzhen’s elder brother. He ascended the throne in the forty-eighth year of Wanli, ruled for seven years, and then Chongzhen for seventeen years, after which the Ming collapsed. You surely know all this.”

In truth, Zhu Xiaoqi had no idea, but he refused to show weakness. After carefully reading the message, he replied, “Of course, such basics are obvious to me.”

“Do you truly wish to be Emperor Tianqi, change the course of history, and become a hero admired by all?”

“Absolutely! And besides, don’t you think pig tails look ridiculous?”

At that moment, a line appeared on the computer screen: “Number 9527 agrees to the experiment.”

What did that mean? Zhu Xiaoqi was baffled. Then a voice sounded from the computer, “You agreed yourself, Zhu Xiaoqi. You should know, it’s not easy to find someone as clueless as you, who doesn’t even know who brought down the Ming dynasty. Farewell—Wanli Year 47 awaits you.” Suddenly, Zhu Xiaoqi felt the world spin and was sucked into the computer. His last thought was that his sister would surely scold him tomorrow.

The sky was gloomy, the towering city walls deserted, the gates wide open. The charred characters for Yangzhou could still be seen above. A group of fierce, wild men with short queue tails rushed through the gates. Outside, a lavishly dressed leader shouted, “Ten days without sheathing our blades!” Soon, the sounds of blades slicing into flesh, heads thudding onto the stone streets, clothes being torn, screams, curses, cries, all mingled with the arrogant laughter of the invaders, spread through the city...

A scream. Zhu Xiaoqi jolted upright, drenched in sweat. Rapid footsteps approached. “Don’t be afraid, young master, your nurse is here.” A woman in her thirties, dressed in palace attire, hurried in, cradling his head with her left arm and gently patting his back with her right. “Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid, the monster will eat your nightmares. Don’t be scared.”

His head was pressed so tightly against her chest that he could hardly breathe. He gently pushed her hand away and said, “Nurse, I’m feeling better now.” She released him, swiftly went to the outer room, and returned with a cup. “This is a calming drink from the imperial physician. Please take some, young master.” “Alright, just leave it here for now. What time is it?” “It’s three quarters past midnight. Please drink the medicine first.”

Zhu Xiaoqi picked up the cup and took a sip. It was bitter, and he wanted to set it down, but seeing the worried look on her face, he gritted his teeth and gulped it all. Her face brightened, and she stepped forward, took the cup with her left hand, and reached out her right, placing a sugar cube in his mouth. Zhu Xiaoqi noticed her clothes were neat and remarked, “You haven’t slept again, have you?”

The nurse pulled out a towel and wiped the sweat from his brow. “You’ve been having nightmares lately. I was worried you’d wake up and be afraid if there was no one here, so I rested on the couch outside.” “I’m fine now. Mother’s gone, and I’m sad, but I’ll get better eventually. You should go rest. Keeping watch every night will wear you out. Spring Peach and the others can look after me just as well.” “I can’t trust Spring Peach and her lot. Don’t worry, young master. Sleep soundly—I’ll be right outside. Don’t be afraid, everything’s alright.” With that, she left with the tray.

Zhu Xiaoqi lay back down and sighed. A few days ago, he had crossed over to the forty-seventh year of the Wanli era in the Ming dynasty. The body he now inhabited was Zhu Youxiao, the eldest grandson of the emperor. His biological mother, Lady Wang, had died, and he was so grief-stricken that after crying for three days, he fainted, allowing Zhu Xiaoqi’s soul to enter. Now, he possessed Zhu Xiaoqi’s memories—a seventeen-year-old soul in a fourteen-year-old body, which felt awkward, but at least he wasn’t dead.

He thought with relief, but what about his brother—the one who raised him, his hero—and his clever, lovable sister, his dear parents? He’d never see them again in this world. If he died in that world, how much pain would it cause them? The thought brought fresh waves of sorrow.

Silently, he wished: May you all live happy lives, my beloved family.

Drifting between longing and heartache, Zhu Xiaoqi slowly slipped into sleep.