Chapter 4

4

This time when he woke up, there were no enchanting beauties by Wen Yan’s side, no fair-weather friends shouting in his ear, and no squandering fortunes at a casino.

He was lying quietly in bed, dressed neatly as if ready to head out at any moment.

Wen Yan sniffed his collar and cuffs. There was still a faint, lingering scent of alcohol and perfume, likely meaning Shen Po had rushed back just in time. Though the man hadn’t completely changed his ways, he had at least listened. Wen Yan breathed a sigh of relief.

He got out of bed, found the diary in the room, and flipped it open.

Sure enough, right after his own handwriting, Shen Po had written two full pages.

It began with a barrage of interrogation, demanding to know what kind of demonic fiend Wen Yan was and why he wanted to possess his body, declaring that he would surely find a Taoist priest to exorcise him, and so on. The strokes were frantic and incoherent, written entirely in traditional Chinese characters that clashed and leaned into one another. It was less a display of flourishing calligraphy and more like ghostly scribblings, making Wen Yan’s eyes throb just looking at it.

Fortunately, Shen Po seemed to realize his mental state was somewhat precarious, and after that initial venting of agitation, his handwriting had gradually calmed along with his mood.

Still, not completely calm.

After realizing he wasn’t dreaming or in the underworld, but rather more than a century into the future, Shen Po hadn’t shown excitement. Instead, he asked Wen Yan if China had been carved up by foreigners and if the Chinese had been driven into tiny mountain villages to live as low-class slaves. Otherwise, why would Wen Yan’s surroundings be even more primitive after more than a hundred years? He mentioned that he had tried to run off in the middle of the night, only to find that once he left the village, he had no idea which way led back to Shanghai, leaving him to scream in frustration and give up.

In a condescending, charitable tone, he went on to tell Wen Yan: Since Wen Yan had the chance to live as the young master of the Shen family for a few days, he should properly experience what true luxury was like, but he had better not act like a country bumpkin arriving in the city, losing his head and doing something humiliating that would ruin Young Master Shen’s reputation.

Wen Yan found it both infuriating and hilarious.

The funny part was that Shen Po actually mistook a volunteer teaching^[1] village for the general state of China a century later, assuming Wen Yan had never seen the world.

Even if that little village was somewhat behind the times, things like supermarkets and parcel delivery were certainly unheard of during the Republic of China. As long as the villagers wanted to, they could step outside and see the vast world. Although Wen Yan often complained about the place being dull and lacking entertainment, being looked down upon by someone from the Republic of China made him unable to resist pushing back. He immediately wrote down a lengthy rebuttal, listing the changes in China a century later and explaining that with such vast territory, it was impossible for everyone to access the exact same resources at the same time. That was why volunteer teachers like him were sent to remote regions to help the children there learn about the world. Rural areas now had electricity and the internet; transportation might be inconvenient, but it was far from the countryside Shen Po imagined.

Although Wen Yan was already exhausted from teaching during the day and had no interest in lecturing anyone, Shen Po’s blatant disdain for his era was simply intolerable. That protective instinct of “I can complain about my hometown all I want, but an outsider doesn’t get to talk trash” flared up instantly, and he tore Shen Po’s logic to shreds.

Then again, Shen Po was among the elite of the Republic of China, born into what later generations would call the big bourgeoisie. It was only natural for him to find that small village impoverished. In this era, even in great Shanghai, countless people could barely manage three meals a day, living in an entirely different world from Shen Po.

After penning that long counterargument, Wen Yan couldn’t help feeling a bit childish.

Why bother arguing with a man from the Republic of China? Shen Po had never even seen the countryside in his own time, so how could he possibly know whether rural life had improved over a hundred years later? Wen Yan had only stumbled into experiencing the nightlife of a wealthy young master from the past. Why waste effort trying to convince a man of that era, and what did winning the argument even achieve? He might as well treat it as an immersive, bizarre dream.

He continued reading.

After venting about Wen Yan’s living conditions, Shen Po seemed to recall Wen Yan’s previous question and briefly introduced his family background before launching into another round of flamboyant bragging: Don’t think you can latch onto our family just because we have money. My mother will always be my mother, never yours. But since you’re fortunate enough to borrow my body, you might as well do my homework for me. You can ask the servants to make you some late-night snacks. Have you ever had Yanduxian soup^[2]? You definitely haven’t, so give it a try. There’s also crab roe buns and fresh meat mooncakes, which Ma He in our house knows how to make. Besides, out in that godforsaken place, you’ve probably never seen a ballroom or danced before. I grant you permission to hang out with Mary. Have the driver, Xiao Wu, take you, and you can invite Zhou Cheng and the others along. Zhou Cheng’s home telephone number is… Never mind, you probably don’t even have a telephone over there, and you wouldn’t know how to use one anyway. Good heavens, how can China still be so backward after more than a hundred years!

What an unbearable brat…

The corner of Wen Yan’s mouth twitched. He was actually being mocked for not knowing how to use a telephone by someone from the Republic of China.

When the guy learned about the miraculous existence of smartphones, and realized that almost every villager in that “backward” village had one, his worldview would probably collapse.

However, Wen Yan also noticed from Shen Po’s account that he seemed to already know his father kept a mistress outside, viewing it as entirely routine. As for his eldest brother not returning for years and his second brother’s accidental death, Shen Po didn’t say much, only telling him never to bring it up in front of his parents.

【You’re a literature teacher, so your Chinese must be excellent, right? Let’s make a deal. I’ll transfer to the Department of Chinese Literature, and you help me complete my assignments. As long as I can graduate smoothly, I’ll leave a sum of money for you in a safe deposit box at HSBC and pay a hundred years of maintenance fees in advance, so you can still collect it a century later. How does that sound?】

At the very end, Wen Yan saw this passage.

Shen Po, an unmotivated underachiever, actually wanted to use money to buy his diploma. It was truly the mindset of a capitalist!

Wen Yan felt a brief spark of temptation before immediately brushing it aside.

First of all, there was no telling how much the silver dollars in circulation now would be worth a hundred years later. Even if Shen Po converted it all into US dollars and paid enough storage fees, history would go through countless upheavals. He remembered that HSBC had relocated from Shanghai at one point, so where would he even track down a receipt or a safe key from over a century ago?

All one could say was that Shen Po’s proposal was theoretically feasible, but it clearly sounded like the idea of a wealthy young master with no sense of practical reality.

Besides, Shen Po didn’t even attend his daily classes at the theological seminary he currently attended, yet he likely had no trouble securing a graduation certificate. Why had he suddenly decided he wanted to study Chinese literature? It couldn’t possibly be that he had abruptly discovered the profound beauty of the Chinese language, could it?

Wen Yan ignored the proposal, closed the diary, and rubbed his stomach. Feeling a bit hungry, he left the room, planning to sample the cooking of Ma He, whom Shen Po had mentioned.

Without needing him to ask around, a middle-aged woman immediately came forward to greet him.

“Third Young Master, I made some late-night snacks. Would you like some?”

Wen Yan immediately knew who she was. “Sure, thank you, Ma He.”

He followed Ma He into the dining room and even helped carry a plate, leaving Ma He utterly flattered and flustered.

“Third Young Master, you just sit down. I’ll have Xiao Qi help.”

Wen Yan said, “It’s fine. It’s not like I’m doing anything anyway.”

Ma He had been with the Shen family for many years, and her standing was different from ordinary servants, so she could chat a bit.

“How come you didn’t go out today, Third Young Master?”

Wen Yan sat at the table waiting for Ma He to bring over the steamed buns.

“I’m staying home quietly for a few days so I don’t get scolded.”

Ma He smiled. “True. Master said last time that you’re always running around outside. It’s good to stay home for a bit.”

Wen Yan asked casually, “Ma He, how much are your monthly wages?”

Young Master Shen, having never dirtied his hands with chores, clearly had never cared about such matters, so Ma He wasn’t surprised that he didn’t know.

“Two Yuan a month.”

Two Yuan here referred to silver Yuan.

Working for the Shen family, Ma He received room and board.

At first glance, since silver Yuan held value and she didn’t have to worry about food or lodging, it seemed as if the two Yuan could be saved entirely.

However, back during his school days, Wen Yan had researched materials for a thesis and knew that in the Republic of China, two Yuan was merely enough for one person’s basic monthly rations. Yet Ma He had three children at home; her husband had died early from an opium addiction, squandering what little savings they had. Although Ma He could eat and live at the Shen family home and save the entire two Yuan, raising three children on that was tight, let alone sending them to school. As a result, the eldest of the three, around ten years old, had already started working odd jobs outside to help support the household.

This was the other side of the Republic of China beneath its vibrant glamour, cruel and real.

Ma He was considered fortunate. Working for wealthy employers like the Shen family gave her a steady job without the risk of having her livelihood cut off every few days. Among the household’s many servants, she was even someone with a bit of status. Shen Po’s mother occasionally gave her extra meat dishes or tips as rewards, and having the title of a Shen family servant sounded respectable outside. Even so, Ma He remained at the bottom of the food chain, barely able to support her family.

If Wen Yan hadn’t swapped souls with Shen Po but with Ma He’s son instead, he would probably be hauling sandbags even in his dreams.

Thinking about it that way, cleaning up this spendthrift Shen Po’s mess didn’t seem quite so unbearable.

Wen Yan’s mouth twitched. He took a bite of the juicy steamed bun. While the taste wasn’t particularly mind-blowing compared to what he had eaten in the future, he still offered polite praise. “These steamed buns you made are delicious, Ma He!”

Ma He broke into a wide smile. “If you like them, eat more!”

She chatted with Shen Po about everyday matters and felt that the Third Young Master seemed a little different from before. Assuming he had grown up and become easier to get along with, she lowered her voice and said to him, “Madam is crying in her room. Would you like to go in and comfort her?”

Wen Yan paused with his chopsticks outstretched.

“What happened?”

Ma He said, “It seems to be because of what your aunt said yesterday.”

Wen Yan understood. The remarks about Shen Po’s father keeping a concubine and having an illegitimate child had hurt Madam Shen.

He felt caught in a bind. Since he wasn’t her real son, anything he said would feel inappropriate, and besides, he wouldn’t even know what to say.

Before Wen Yan could fret any further, Madam Shen sent someone to call for him.

“Third Young Master, Madam asked you to come to her room.”

Shen Po’s father was away from home year-round, Shen Po was a loafer who ran outside every few days, and Shen Po’s aunt frequently went out to salons or balls, so strictly speaking, Madam Shen was the sole master of the house.

“Understood.” Wen Yan had no choice but to wipe his mouth and hurriedly go meet Shen Po’s mother.

The beautiful woman, who had been draped in jewels when they last met, was now wearing only a bathrobe as she sat before the dressing table. Seeing Wen Yan knock and enter, she didn’t call him “darling” in that sickeningly sweet tone, but instead waved him over.

“Come here.”

Wen Yan had no choice but to walk over.

Mother Shen asked, “What’s this about you going to your father today and saying you want to transfer to the Chinese department?”

Wen Yan was taken aback. “Huh?”

He had thought Shen Po was merely musing in his diary, yet the guy had immediately gone and put it into action?!

Mother Shen said, “What do you mean ‘huh’? Speak up!”

Wen Yan said, “…Maybe I just want to study hard?”

Mother Shen rolled her eyes at him. “That excuse might fool your father, but it won’t work on me. Could it be that you’ve taken a fancy to some girl in the Chinese department?”

Wen Yan felt that no one knew a son better than his mother; Mother Shen’s guess was likely very close to Shen Po’s true thoughts. Otherwise, he couldn’t comprehend why an uncultured slacker like Shen Po would suddenly think of transferring departments.

Mother Shen said, “Darling, in the past when you acted recklessly, I never reined you in because I knew you were the only one at home, and your father’s family business would eventually be left to you sooner or later. But things are different now. That vixen he keeps on the outside bore him a bastard child, and he will definitely give a share to that bastard. If that bastard grows up and proves capable, your father might give him even more. That’s why I didn’t stop you when you wanted to transfer this time. I only hope you’ll show some sense and not spend all day just fooling around. When your eldest brother was your age…”

She suddenly stopped. Unable to hold back any longer, her already reddened eyes welled up, and she buried her face in her hands, weeping.

“If only your eldest and second brothers were still around, I wouldn’t have to worry about you!”

Wen Yan felt Shen Po really ought to hear these words himself, but unfortunately, he was the one sitting here getting lectured.

He could only pat Mother Shen’s shoulder and offer clumsy comfort. “Don’t cry. You still have me. Eldest Brother will probably come back too, right?”

Mother Shen said, “If your eldest brother were willing to return, I wouldn’t be saying all this. Your father gets furious whenever he hears his name, so make sure you never bring him up in front of him.”

Even though Shen Po had told Wen Yan not to ask, since Mother Shen had brought it up, Wen Yan naturally couldn’t resist gossiping a bit.

“How is Eldest Brother doing now?”

Mother Shen hesitated, but eventually told him about the eldest brother of the Shen family.

Shen Po had two older brothers.

The eldest son was very capable and had originally carried the family’s hopes, but while studying abroad in his early years, he had fallen in with an unconventional crowd and severed ties with the family. By his own words, the cause he was dedicated to was extremely dangerous and could put his life or his family at risk at any moment, and he didn’t want the family to suffer for it. Naturally, Father Shen flew into a rage and declared that from then on, he would treat it as if he had no such son.

As for the second son, influenced by his older brother, he deeply admired his brother’s cause. Too afraid to break away from the family openly, he supported his brother in secret, even volunteering to run errands and do tasks for him. As a result, one night, Shen Po’s second brother was mysteriously stabbed to death in the street. The official story was that he had offended the thugs of the Green Gang^[3], but there were countless speculations about the real cause. Although the Shen family had roots in Shanghai, the matter reached far too deep and wide for Father Shen or his elder brother to intervene. In the end, they could only take the life of the street thug who held the knife, not daring to pursue the matter any further.

Because of this, Father Shen blamed the second son’s death on the eldest as well, and the names of both sons became absolute taboos in the Shen family.

As for Shen Po, he was born late in his parents’ lives. He was still very young when these events happened, and his path had ended up like that of any common playboy of the era.

Wen Yan listened, dumbfounded.

Although Mother Shen’s account was vague, he could guess what kind of work the eldest brother was involved in.

He just hadn’t expected that someone as seemingly useless as Shen Po would have a brother like that.

“I’ll be filial to you.”

Wen Yan didn’t know if Shen Po would have been filial to his mother, but at this moment, it was the only comforting phrase he could think of.

Mother Shen sighed. “Ah, if you could just study hard for a single year, I’d be happy. Since you’re going to study in the Chinese department, you can visit your granduncle in advance and ask him for some books to read, so you won’t get laughed at by your classmates for knowing nothing when classes start.”

Wen Yan said, “I can just buy them at a bookstore.”

Mother Shen said, “Your granduncle is a great scholar, and that Oriental Library^[4] of his has every kind of book imaginable. You should take this chance to seek his guidance. You won’t regret it.”

Wen Yan said, “Seek guidance for what-“

He stopped abruptly, blinking.

“Mom, which Oriental Library did you just say?”

Mother Shen said, “Which other Oriental Library could it be? Your granduncle’s, of course! Who in all of Shanghai doesn’t know about it? You silly child, whenever I told you to read more books you refused, fooling around outside all day long. Having a master like your granduncle Zhang Yuanji right there and not learning from him, while others couldn’t get near him even if they wanted to…”

Wen Yan: ???!!!

Zhang Yuanji, the Oriental Library.

If seeing the date in Shen Po’s Diary had only given him a vague impression, hearing the names of the Oriental Library and Zhang Yuanji was a deafening thunderclap exploding in his mind!

It was now the early morning of January 8, 1932, the first day of the twelfth lunar month.

What would happen three weeks from now?

January 28, 1932^[5] was a date that countless Chinese people would never forget.

And in the days following that date, his granduncle’s Oriental Library, along with countless rare editions and unique surviving manuscripts spanning successive dynasties, would go up in flames, reduced to scorched earth and lost to the world forever.

It was a scar in the long river of civilization, an indelible agony etched into the ink of history.

He had actually arrived at such a time!