Chapter 8

8

Shen Po could never have imagined that his post would truly make him famous overnight.

Because there were so many people cursing at him, the post was pushed to trending in the Super Topic^[1] and was even pinned as a featured post. Below in the comments, the two originally distinct camps fractured into further factions, arguing fiercely in nested comment threads. It was an absolute spectacle.

By the time Wen Yan saw the post, an entire day had already passed. The one-sided stream of insults and praise had quietly shifted; many people now suspected Shen Po was actually trolling under the guise of a Republic of China fan, what internet slang called a high-level troll. Otherwise, how could anyone genuinely praise the Republic of China for not banning gambling?!

The key reason Shen Po’s post blew up like this was that the details across his thousand-plus words were genuinely well-researched. For instance, when Shen Po mentioned that the sizzling yellow-breasted bunting at the Qingyise Restaurant on Hankou Road was delicious, some curious netizens actually looked it up and found that such a restaurant really did exist during the Republic of China era, with the exact same interesting name, “Qingyise.”

Along with the meticulous details, Shen Po praised things that were blatantly absurd with a completely straight face. That was what made people find it both infuriating and hilarious, leading them to suspect he was using praise as a disguise to bash the Republic of China. As a result, the two camps abruptly switched sides: the Republic of China enthusiasts who had previously agreed with him started scolding him, while those who had been rebutting him began laughing, saying Shen Po had pulled off a brilliant piece of trolling.

Shen Po had given himself the username “Master Shen,” so his detractors sarcastically gave him a nickname: “The Advantage Is Mine, Master Shen.”

This meme came from the old movie Decisive Engagement, where Chiang Kai-shek told his assembled generals, “Our army has eight hundred thousand troops, the enemy only six hundred thousand. The advantage is mine.” In the end, his forces were routed. Ever since, “the advantage is mine” had become a famous meme used to mock overconfident people. Adding “The Advantage Is Mine” in front of Shen Po’s username was clearly a way of ridiculing him.

If Shen Po were here, he probably wouldn’t get the joke and might even be feeling smug about it.

Wen Yan found it hilarious. Always happy to watch drama unfold, he laughed until his sides ached.

Until he saw one comment:

【If you really think the Republic of China was so great, why don’t you travel back in time and sneak out some of the rare and unique books from the Oriental Library so the Japanese won’t burn them later? That way, you’d at least be performing a great service for our nation.】

Wen Yan was drinking water and nearly choked when he saw the comment.

He actually could travel back in time, and he really did have a distant connection to the master of the Oriental Library.

It was true that Shen Po couldn’t change history all on his own. He was just a spoiled rich kid; even if you tried to prop him up, he would still fall flat. But could he save the Oriental Library?

Wen Yan immediately shook his head. No, that wouldn’t work.

Back then, the Japanese military had been hell-bent on severing China’s cultural heritage. Precisely because the library held so many unique surviving copies, they bombed it to ensure those texts could never be found again, perhaps even allowing them to turn around and claim that China fabricated its own history. The library was such a massive target with so many books that even if he could convince Zhang Yuanji to move them, word would surely leak, and it would all be in vain.

What if they didn’t empty the whole library, but only moved a batch of the most precious books?

That didn’t seem viable either. Although Shen Po and Zhang Yuanji were relatives, the relation was far too distant, and the two had never interacted before. Why would Zhang Yuanji believe a word he said? There was less than a month left before the incident; could he build a good relationship with Zhang Yuanji and borrow those precious unique volumes within a single month?

Wen Yan had a massive headache.

He had already planned to avoid it and give up, but this damned comment stirred up the guilt deep in his heart.

Shen Po’s playboy reputation was surely well known among his relatives, and a distinguished scholar like Zhang Yuanji would certainly look down on him. Getting someone like that to lend out unique copies within a month…

Hadn’t Madam Shen mentioned that Zhang Yuanji had a grandson named Zheng Sheng? What if he took an indirect approach and tried to get close to Zheng Sheng first?

People around the same age should be easier to get along with.

At that thought, Wen Yan lost all mood to laugh at Shen Po.

He decided to eat a bowl of instant noodles to calm his nerves.

He had celebrated a kid’s birthday that afternoon, and there hadn’t been enough cake to go around; he couldn’t very well fight his students for food. By the time the party ended and the kids went home to their mothers, he had already missed dinner at the cafeteria. His stomach was growling with hunger now, and ordering takeout was out of the question in this area. Fortunately, he still had some emergency rations in his dorm.

Putting his troubles aside for the moment, Wen Yan switched his phone to a game and happily started a match of Honor of Kings.

The internet connection was quite stable today, without a single disconnect during the match. Wen Yan wolfed down his noodles in a few bites and queued up for several more rounds.

Gaming was the kind of thing where you either didn’t start at all or became hopelessly hooked once you did. Without outside interference, knowing when to stop simply wasn’t an option. Thus, Wen Yan played straight past two in the morning, only checking the time when an urgent need to pee drove him to the bathroom.

Huh. Normally, I would have transmigrated by now, but nothing happened today.

Is it because I haven’t fallen asleep?

Does this method actually work?

Wen Yan really didn’t want to go back and face that tense, perilous era just yet, so he immediately decided to run away from it for one night.

He kept playing until four in the morning, his eyelids growing heavy as sleep threatened to overtake him.

Wen Yan could barely hold on, but he told himself to push through just a little longer. Tomorrow was a village festival, so there was only one class in the morning; once that class was over, he could come back and catch up on sleep.

Clinging to that thought, Wen Yan opened a web series at random and brewed a cup of strong tea, settling in to force himself to stay awake.

The show was a suspense drama with a tight pace and thrilling plot, which was the only reason Wen Yan could barely keep his drowsiness at bay.

He forced himself to stay alert through an episode and a half, having no idea when he finally drifted off.

In a daze, Wen Yan felt someone shaking him.

Did I oversleep, and a coworker came to wake me up?

I really just want to snooze a little longer…

No, I have class this morning. I have to get up!

Locked in an internal struggle, Wen Yan used every ounce of willpower to pry his eyelids open a crack.

A blurry silhouette swayed into his line of sight.

Who was it?

“Young Master, wake up!”

Young Master?…

Wen Yan: ?!

His eyes snapped open, and he bolted upright in bed.

His stiff, zombie-like movement startled the servant.

Wen Yan looked at her, looked down at himself, and then looked around.

It was Shen Po’s room.

Had he still crossed over after all?

Wait, why was it daytime?!

“What time is it now?” he quickly asked the servant.

“It’s six-fifteen!” the servant hurriedly added, as if terrified of taking the blame. “You told me yesterday to wake you, saying you had classes at school today.”

Wen Yan turned pale with shock. If he had crossed over during the day, what about Shen Po?!

He had a class this morning! Was Shen Po going to teach it for him?!

Shen Po wouldn’t actually lecture the students about his life in a wealthy Republic of China family, would he?

Holy mother, his rice bowl^[2] was doomed!

Wen Yan was on the verge of tears. He had never imagined things would develop like this.

If he had known this would happen, why on earth did he stay up late last night!