Wife, Don't Be Like This!

Chapter 1 - Miss, Calm Down!

[Given a chance to transmigrate to ancient times, a limit of six choices out of twelve, what would you choose?]

First: Golden Kidneys (Your flesh will rot in the soil, but your kidneys will be eternal.)

Second: Handgun (infinite ammo)

Third: Hand grenade (infinite supply)

Fourth: All famous poems, essays, and classics in history (including modern ones, existing in the form of memory, never to be forgotten!)

Fifth: Ten jin of high-yield conventional seeds for rice, corn, wheat, potatoes, etc. (can be saved for replanting)

Sixth: Bulletproof vest (impervious to blades and guns)

Seventh: Medicine box (contains various common medicines and tools, refreshes monthly)

Eighth: Seasoning box (contains Thirteen-spice, MSG, oyster sauce, iodized salt, and other common seasonings, refreshes monthly)

Ninth: Technical formulas for the curved-shaft plow, the cavalry three-piece set, cement, gunpowder, pan-frying tea, brewing alcohol, papermaking, etc. (existing in the form of memory, never to be forgotten.)

Tenth: Women's underwear (includes stockings and various other erotic items, refreshes monthly, can make your ancient life more colorful.)

Eleventh: Tank (infinite fuel)

Twelfth: An incredibly beautiful sweet girl (yours to do with as you please)

The smell of disinfectant in the hospital room was always so pungent. Song Yan lay on the bed, struggling to keep his eyelids open, trying his best not to fall asleep. His gaze was somewhat unfocused. Although the heating was on in the hospital room, an indescribable loneliness always made him feel waves of coldness. Three days ago, after the little girl in the next bed was sent to the emergency room, she never came back. The large hospital room was left with only him.

So sleepy!

Ever since saving a child from in front of a car and suffering a severe head injury, he had become extremely drowsy. The doctor said that every time he fell asleep, there was a chance he might never wake up again—either he'd die, or become a vegetable.

Shaking his head, his gaze fell back on his phone screen. Not long ago on Douyin, he had clicked on a video about transmigrating to the apocalypse with a limit of three choices out of six. Subsequently, more and more similar recommendations appeared. But others had a limit of six-choose-three, and here you were, with twelve-choose-six?

Golden Kidneys? Had to choose this, it concerned his happy life after transmigrating.

Handgun, hand grenades, bulletproof vest, tank... had to choose them all, they could save his life in a crisis.

Medicine box? A must-pick. With his current constitution, if he caught a cold, given the medical standards of ancient times, he'd probably drop dead on the spot.

Seasoning box? Had to choose it. He most likely wouldn't be used to the food of ancient times.

Crop seeds? A must-pick. This was something that could change an era.

Poems and essays? A must-pick. This was related to whether or not he could thrive in ancient times. The ancient poems he could recite were just those few common ones. He could barely remember "Shuidiao Getou," couldn't recite "Qiang Jin Jiu," and couldn't even recognize all the characters in "Luo Shen Fu."

Women's underwear? Could skip it. The attire of ancient women had its own unique charm.

Sweet girl? Could skip it. As long as he could become a big shot on the level of Liu Yong, he could even get serviced for free in the brothels; he probably wouldn't be short of girls.

Formulas for the curved-shaft plow, gunpowder, pan-frying tea, brewing alcohol? Could skip it, because... he could just Baidu it first.

As Song Yan thought this, he found that he was quite greedy, wanting everything.

The sleepiness grew stronger and stronger.

After thinking very seriously for a long time, Song Yan then very casually typed a few words into the comment section:

"Choose, choose, choose, you ask me to choose every day. If I choose, will you give it to me?”

Closing Douyin, he casually opened Baidu and typed in "curved-shaft plow." It wasn't that he thought he could really transmigrate; it was just a spur-of-the-moment curiosity.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but Song Yan's eyelids had become exceptionally heavy. The words on the screen seemed to have turned into tiny tadpoles, swimming back and forth. The screen, with its brightness turned to the maximum, had also become dim and gray.

Letting out a soft breath, Song Yan slowly closed his eyes.

I... am probably going to die!

A pity I won't get to see the national football team win the World Cup.

……

The nineteenth year of the Ninghe era!

By the banks of the Yi-Luo River.

Yellow orioles sang in the parasol trees, spreading their wings to gaze at the clear sky; new shoots emerged from the grassy earth, greening it, and a warm breeze passed through the willows into the dense shade.

By the river was a young man, his figure slender, his face like white jade, his lips as if painted with vermilion. Every glance and movement was dashing, every gesture naturally elegant. Even a coarse linen robe covered in patch upon patch could hardly conceal his handsome bearing.

"The few numbers I casually wrote back then, how did they end up being one, four, five, seven, eight, and ten?"

Golden Kidneys, literary classics, crop seeds, medicine box, seasoning box, plus women's underwear.

"If only the women's underwear could be swapped for the gun, how great would that be!"

He couldn't help but sigh.

Fifteen years ago, he had woken up and transmigrated into this world, becoming a newborn baby—the ninth son, born of a concubine, of the House of Duke Song in Ningping County, Song Prefecture, of the Ning Kingdom.

He also changed from Song Yan (宋岩) to Song Yan (宋言).

This world also had a Spring and Autumn and a Warring States period, as well as Laozi, Confucius, and Mencius. It was just that the one who ultimately unified the lands was not the Qin Emperor, but the King of Chu. Subsequently, the Xiang clan usurped Chu and established the Great Han.

It was as if a butterfly had flapped its wings, and history had changed its course.

The Great Han enjoyed three hundred years of rule, after which the state collapsed. The Uprising of the Six Barbarians ravaged China, and the central plains plunged into two hundred years of darkness. The lands were filled with lamentation, and the people were plunged into misery.

Amidst the chaos, a fierce man appeared out of nowhere. Rising from the status of a beggar, he drove out the barbarians, ended the chaotic era, and established the Great Wu.

The Great Wu enjoyed over two hundred years of rule before the divine artifact collapsed once more. Another hundred-plus years of chaos followed, ultimately evolving into the current situation of a four-way standoff between the kingdoms of Ning, Chu, Zhao, and Liang.

There was no prosperous Tang, no weak Song, and no Li Bai, Du Fu, or Su Dongpo.* Relying on the poems and essays imprinted in his memory, Song Yan believed he could definitely make a name for himself in this world. If that didn't work, he could still open a restaurant or a clinic and make a fortune.

[N: Li Bai and Du Fu are two of the most celebrated poets of China's Tang dynasty, while Su Dongpo (also known as Su Shi) is a prominent figure from the Song dynasty.]

But reality gave Song Yan a sharp blow to the head.

At the age of six, when he began his education in the clan school, merely because of a word of praise from the teacher, he and his mother were suddenly poisoned that very night without any warning. Because Song Yan's kidneys were robust and his ability to flush out toxins was stronger, he was lucky enough to survive. His mother, however, had become simple-minded ever since.

At that moment, Song Yan finally understood.

For him, being talented was not a good thing. The more talented he was, the faster he would die.

Some families would carefully nurture a talented son born of a concubine, who might become an aide to the direct line in the future. But to the primary wife of the Song family, all sons born of concubines were a threat to the direct line and had to be eliminated. After all, she had eight sons of her own and had no need for any side branches.

From that point on, Song Yan and his mother lived in a dilapidated small courtyard in the backyard of the Duke's mansion. To call it living was more like imprisonment; in nine years, Song Yan never took a single step out of the small courtyard.

In these nine years, Song Yan's life was one of hardship.

Even the maids and servant boys lived better than him. The maids and servants could get two sets of new clothes a year, while he only got one set every three years. And that was only because his clothes had become too small, and it was too unseemly for him to be unable to cover his body, that a set of loose-fitting old clothes was tossed over to him.

In winter, the maids and servant boys still had charcoal fires for warmth. He, however, could only hide in a corner, curled up and wrapped in a few tattered pieces of cloth, enduring the assault of the cold wind.

Pathetic, lamentable, pitiful.

Only after being drunk does one know the strength of the wine; only after dying does one know the weight of life.

Having died once, Song Yan cherished life more than anyone.

He lived cautiously and meticulously. Every time he ate, he would not finish it in one go, but would first eat a little, then sit still for two hours, only sending the food to his mother after confirming it was not poisoned.

He had even grown somewhat accustomed to this life. Although his mother was simple-minded, her gaze was still gentle when she looked at him.

But just six years ago, when lunch was delivered, his mother, who had been sitting foolishly in the courtyard, rushed over like a madwoman, snatched the lunch, and began to wolf it down into her mouth.

That night, his mother passed away without a sound. When he woke in the morning, the body beside him was already a cold and stiff corpse. Even in death, his mother still held him tightly.

"Died of a sudden violent illness" — this was the result of the Duke's mansion's investigation.

At that moment, Song Yan felt cold all over. Pent-up frustration, repression, gloom, hesitation, anger, fear—all sorts of emotions welled up in his heart. And... hatred.

Why hadn't he chosen more carefully before? If he had a gun in his hand, he could kill everyone he despised; if he had grenades, he could blow the entire Duke's mansion to pieces; if he had a tank, he could crush the entire Duke's mansion...

But, there were no 'ifs'.

His mother's status was humble, just a concubine, and she was not qualified to be buried in the Song family's ancestral tomb after her death.

A mass grave, a dirt pit, a straw mat, and that was all.

Song Yan knew that he was next.

He wanted to live, but he was all alone, with no backer, no power. How could he possibly break out of this situation?

After living in fear and trepidation, pretending to be crazy and foolish for several years, Song Yan finally received permission to leave the Duke's mansion. The reason was... to pay respects to his deceased mother.

What was bound to come had finally come.

Song Yan was a little curious. That primary wife, what method would she use to get rid of him?

Just then, Song Yan suddenly heard a burst of rapid and chaotic footsteps. His eyelids twitched slightly. He hadn't gone to the mass grave but had chosen the complete opposite direction. Could it be that they had still managed to catch up to him?

His gaze shifted toward the direction of the sound. He saw only a group of short men, dressed in gray long robes with belts tied at their waists, holding Japanese swords, clearly dressed like Japanese ronin.

Song Yan initially thought these Japanese ronin were here to kill him, but he soon noticed something unusual. These Wokou,* who were normally fierce and brutal, burning, killing, and plundering along the coastal regions, now had faces full of panic. They were frantically running forward, turning from time to to time to look behind them.

[N: Wokou refers to "Japanese pirates", were pirates who raided the coastlines of China and Korea from the 13th century to the 17th century.]

It was as if some kind of flood or fierce beast was chasing them from behind.

Swish!

At that very moment, a cold gleam flashed behind the ronin. A sharp sword instantly pierced out from one ronin's neck, penetrating straight through from the nape to the throat.

The ronin's eyes widened, his mouth opened, and his body froze on the spot.

Pfft!

The sharp sword was pulled out, and blood spurted.

The ronin's body went limp, and he knelt on the ground.

Immediately after, the blood-soaked longsword quivered in mid-air. Accompanied by a piercing sword hum, droplets of blood were instantly flung from the blade.

It was like a downpour falling sideways.

Pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft...

What followed was a deathly silence. If one looked closely, one would find a small hole on each ronin's head, pierced by a bead of blood.

After three breaths, the six ronin's corpses all fell to the ground in unison!

So terrifying!

Only then did Song Yan finally see the figure behind the ronin clearly. With just one glance, he could no longer move his gaze away.

The Luo River glistens, its clear waves ripple!

The young woman by the Yi-Luo River, dressed in a white robe, was perfectly proportioned; her shoulders as if carved, her waist as if bound by white silk; her skin like bright snow, her black hair like a waterfall.

A light veil covered her face, making her seem like an immortal from a painting!

After a long while, Song Yan finally came back to his senses. What followed was excitement... He had to become her disciple. He must become her disciple.

Although Song Yan knew that martial arts existed in this world, he had never imagined that the strength of a martial arts master could be so terrifying, able to pierce a skull merely by flinging blood drops from a sword blade.

If he could become this woman's disciple and learn a move or two, he might gain the capital to survive and establish himself in this world.

Song Yan's heart burned with eagerness. He immediately cupped his fists and said loudly,

"Miss..."

Before his voice could fall, he felt a white shadow flash before his eyes, and a fragrant breeze rushed towards his face. The young woman, who was originally dozens of meters away, had already appeared in front of Song Yan. Up close, she was even clearer to see. Her delicate skin was like congealed fat, and he could barely perceive the existence of pores.

She smelled very fragrant.

Inadvertently, Song Yan saw the young woman's eyes. A pair of dark black pupils were faintly flushed, her charming eyes were like silk, and her breathing was rapid... Her burning eyes stared at Song Yan, as if something on him was attracting her.

Song Yan's heart skipped a beat. This young woman, could she have been hit with a less than proper poison?

Potent Aphrodisiac?

Before Song Yan could ask anything, a slender, soft hand landed on his shoulder. Song Yan felt his body tremble violently. The white-robed young woman grabbed his shoulder and ducked into a nearby cave.

Wait, what kind of development is this?

I was planning to ask you to be my master!

Rip... The sound of cloth tearing.

White silk pants fluttered down like snowflakes, revealing a pair of long legs, rounded like pillars, sparkling like jade!

"Miss, calm down..."

Blinking his eyes, Song Yan said as much. However, before he could finish the sentence, a fragrant breeze brushed his face, and his lips were blocked.

Even through the veil, he could still feel the softness of her cherry lips.

……

This moment, like a crabapple blooming in the white dew, a peach blossom greeting the spring wind.

That tremor, like fragrant sweat from the dew sticking to her temple hair, her hazy, starry eyes accompanied by a swallow's cry.