Chapter 1: The Ugly Duckling

Great Qian Dynasty, Xilang Village.

Under the setting sun, waves of wheat rippled, golden spikes exuding their fragrant promise. The fields and their edges buzzed with activity. From the village houses, thin curls of smoke drifted upward—it was the time when every household was preparing their evening meal.

In the Wang family courtyard, Wang Xuezhou was squatting with a stick, teasing a bug on the ground, watching as it frantically changed direction, desperate to escape his clutches.

A girl passing by, his cousin, caught sight of him and, with a trace of disdain, remarked, “Five years old and still playing with bugs? How useless!”

Wang Xuezhou looked up lazily at his older cousin. “And you wet the bed at seven!”

Girls are proud, especially Daya, who was already ten this year. His words stung so much she nearly died of shame. “You—you’re making things up!” Her cheeks flushed red, and, furious, she stamped her foot, unable to bear staying a moment longer, and dashed off.

Wang Xuezhou gave a snort, dropped his head, and continued to tease the ant.

“Ugly Egg! Come here to Mother!” From the kitchen, a head poked out furtively, beckoning him in a hushed whisper.

At his mother’s call, Wang Xuezhou glanced down at the struggling insect, mercifully set it free. We are all just struggling to survive, he thought. Why make things difficult for each other?

He entered the kitchen. Zhang, his mother, quickly pinched a piece of egg and stuffed it into his mouth, urging, “Eat quickly—don’t let anyone see you.”

He hurried to swallow, and only then did Zhang’s face relax, though her tone was not entirely pleased. “If it weren’t for the wheat harvest, I wouldn’t want to use an egg! Still, with so little, your grandparents wouldn’t spare any for you anyway. Here, let me give you a bit more.”

She sneakily pressed two more generous pieces of egg into his mouth.

“Mother, you eat,” Wang Xuezhou said, pushing his chopsticks toward her lips.

Hearing her youngest son’s sweet words, Zhang’s heart softened. “No, you eat! Hurry up!” She pinched his cheeks and shoved the chopsticks in.

Then she sent him away to play, her own spirits brightening as she began to prepare the soup.

Wang Xuezhou returned to the yard, savoring the lingering taste of egg. In his previous life, his parents had divorced when he was five. At first, they fought bitterly over his custody, but less than two years later each remarried and had new children. He became the surplus child, left with his grandparents, forgotten by his parents.

At fifteen, both grandparents passed away in quick succession. From then on, there was no one waiting for him to come home.

His nominal father only sent money, which stopped after high school. His university tuition came from student loans; his living expenses from scholarships and whatever he could earn working during breaks.

Fortunately, college gave him some freedom and, being resourceful, he used his spare time to gather information and built a small secondhand trading app. Once it gained enough users, he sold it for a handsome sum.

He paid off his loans before graduation, then took a break before looking for work.

Just as he thought life was finally turning around, a moment of softheartedness changed everything. He jumped into a river to save a friend attempting suicide—only to discover that his friend, intent on dying, dragged him under as well. Both lost their lives in the struggle.

This damn world, he thought, truly saps all hope.

After death, he drifted in a dark, hazy void for what felt like ages, until he lost all sense of time. And then—

He was born again.

Because he emerged wrinkled, dark, and red, his biological father, upon seeing him, couldn’t help exclaiming, “So ugly!” And thus, he was gifted the nickname “Ugly Egg.”

When he turned three and could stand it no longer, he demanded a proper name. Only then did his eldest uncle, the most learned in the family, grant him the name Wang Xuezhou—the same as in his previous life.

Even so, the family still called him “Ugly Egg.” Five years passed, and he was numb to it. After all, at his age, what rights did he have?

That evening, the whole family sat neatly around the table.

The meal was meager. In front of each person was their allotted share.

In front of the men were two coarse wheat buns and a rare bowl of white flour soup; in front of the women and children, just a vegetable cornbread and a small bowl of noodle broth.

Pickled vegetables served as the only relish, and the sole plate of stir-fried greens with eggs sat at the head of the table, just within reach of the family patriarch.

No one dared touch it until Grandfather did—except for one.

Wang Xuezhou instinctively looked toward his father, Wang Chengzhi.

He saw his father’s eyes dart toward the dish, swallowing hard. At last unable to resist, his chopsticks crept toward the eggs—only to be slapped away by Grandmother.

“You have the nerve to eat? All day, we’re breaking our backs, but you bounce around full of energy—need a drink, need the toilet, just like a lazy donkey on the mill! You barely do any work, but your mouth never stops!”

Wang Chengzhi’s face didn’t change; he retorted with bravado, “Eggs are for eating, aren’t they? I’m eating!”

He stood up swiftly and, catching Old Liu off guard, scooped a chopstickful of eggs into his mouth, savoring it with closed eyes.

Old Liu rolled her eyes in exasperation, while the others merely looked on, long since used to such scenes.

Old Wang ignored his second son, calmly shifted the plate closer, picked up a portion of egg, and placed it in his eldest son’s bowl. “You’ve been studying hard—eat more.”

Eldest Uncle Wang Chengzu smiled modestly, “Thank you, Father. You should have some, too.”

Though he said this, he made no move to return the eggs, sending them straight to his mouth.

Old Wang nodded in satisfaction. “The eldest is sensible.” He made sure to glance at his second son as he spoke.

Wang Chengzhi curled his lip and rolled his eyes in disdain. All talk, no action—couldn’t his father see that?

After a few bites, Wang Chengzu seemed to remember something. “By the way, Father, Mother, I’ll be going out on business tomorrow. No need to save me a meal for now.”

Old Wang nodded. “Tend to your matters. We’ll manage at home.”

At these words, Wang Xuezhou noticed his parents’ and third uncle’s faces darken. He hastily buried himself in his bowl.

The family battle was about to begin.

Sure enough, as soon as Old Wang finished speaking, Wang Chengzhi’s face fell. “Every time there’s work, big brother has business elsewhere. Isn’t it a little too coincidental? He’s not just avoiding work, is he?”

Wang Chengzu sighed and looked at his brother with pity. “You wouldn’t understand the matters of a scholar.”

Wang Chengzhi sneered, rolling his eyes and swinging his neck with exaggerated mockery. “Oh, the things we scholars do! You lot just wouldn’t understand! Whatever I say goes, right? Ask me and you wouldn’t get it!”

His sarcastic tone made the veins bulge on both Old Wang’s and Old Liu’s foreheads, and left Wang Chengzu looking constipated.

Knowing his limits, Wang Chengzhi suddenly pounced on the dish, deftly divided the greens and eggs into his family’s bowls, and shouted, “Eat! Eat up!”

The others were caught off guard, staring in astonishment.

Old Liu leaped up in fury. “Put it down! Put it down, you unfilial son! You’ll be the death of me!”

She hurled her chopsticks at him, but he dodged nimbly.

Scooping up his own bowl, Wang Chengzhi bolted into the courtyard, shoveling food into his mouth and yelling, “Hurry and eat! Or your doting grandparents will snatch it away in a moment!”