Jiao Mei's footsteps struck the stone floor with more force than usual, each step laced with anger. The whispers and muffled laughter from the other maids emerging from the kitchen corridor still echoed in her ears.
"Little Jiao! You go... the Young Master won't say anything to you. After all, you're just a child..." The head maid's honeyed yet venomous voice hammered through her mind.
Jiao Mei's brow furrowed deeper. A child? She ground her teeth, indignation burning through her chest. Humiliation stung her eyes, threatening tears, but a fresh wave of anger dried them instantly. This excuse about being "young" was nothing but a hollow pretense. They all knew the truth. They wielded her youth and inexperience like a shield—for themselves. Whenever the time came to face that crude, spoiled brat Chen Yun, they all turned into timid mice and shoved her forward as the sacrificial lamb.
Jiao Mei shook her head sharply and drew a steadying breath before heading toward Chen Yun's chamber.
Her steps faltered before the heavy wooden door. Before entering, her hands moved involuntarily to her collar. She fastened the upper portion of her tunic tightly, then loosened and retightened her belt so firmly that every curve of her body disappeared beneath loose, shapeless folds. She wanted to avoid those predatory, lust-filled eyes that began their wandering the moment they found an opportunity.
Once certain her form was completely concealed, she raised a trembling hand and knocked.
knock, knock.
No answer came from within. Only deep silence. She pressed her ear to the door, then raised her hand again and knocked with slightly more confidence. Still no response. Jiao Mei exhaled in irritation and knocked a third time with full force.
"Come in."
A heavy voice emerged from within—but it lacked that particular laziness she'd grown accustomed to. This tone... sounded tired.
She opened the door to find a mountain of flesh seated in a chair before a bronze mirror. Chen Yun's body carried so many layers of fat that determining his true age seemed impossible. Jiao Mei expertly masked her revulsion, lowered her head, and entered.
"Young Master! Will you take your meal here or at the table with the Madam?"
Silence filled the room. Jiao Mei received no answer—only Chen Yun's gaze fixed upon her. Her heart lurched, and she wrapped her arms protectively across her chest. She knew this routine well. Now he would look her up and down, his greasy, lustful eyes appraising her figure before demanding she help him change clothes.
But astonishingly, his gaze lifted from Jiao Mei's feet and moved upward, completely bypassing her chest and neck to settle directly on her face. There was no lecherous smile on his lips, no predatory gleam in his eyes that usually crawled over her body. His eyes were empty, as if he weren't truly seeing Jiao Mei at all.
"I'll eat at the dining table. With everyone." He said suddenly, as if waking from a trance.
Jiao Mei blinked, stunned by this unexpected behavior. She approached and held out the silk robe she'd prepared. "Here, let me help you, Young Ma—"
"No."
It wasn't a word but a verdict. Chen yquickly stepped back, creating distance between them. "I'll manage myself. Thank you."
Jiao Mei's hands hung suspended in the air, her eyes widening in shock.
What? she screamed internally. Did he actually refuse me? This is the same Chen Yun who always craved my touch? Who tried to grab my waist at every opportunity? And today... he didn't even glance at my body?
She stared at his face in disbelief for several moments. But Chen yun's eyes held nothing except a strange kind of distaste. With trembling hands, she placed the garments on the bed and retreated to lean against the wall, watching him.
He dressed himself slowly, his fingers fumbling clumsily with the buttons. Finally, he pressed down on the chair's armrests and struggled to stand. Jiao Mei remained dumbfounded. Today this 'fat one' was behaving completely differently. He moved with deliberate care, teeth clenched as he gathered all his strength to prevent his belly and sides from jiggling too violently.
He exited through the doorway and immediately turned right, heading toward the servants' quarters.
Jiao Mei hesitated, then called out in a fearful voice, "Young Master... that's the wrong way. The dining hall is this way."
***
(Four Minutes Earlier)
The persistent knocking at the door had strangled Xu Qing's hopes. He lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, gasping for air while his massive chest heaved up and down.
"Oh God... this is real. I'm actually trapped in this mountain of flesh." A trembling whisper escaped his parched lips.
For the past two hours, he'd been soaking the bedsheets with sweat, hoping this was some terrible nightmare, but reality proved far more bitter. He'd died in his own world and was now stuck here.
With great difficulty, he dragged himself from the bed and shuffled toward the full-length bronze mirror. The reflection devastated him. A fifteen-year-old boy's features lay buried beneath layers of fat, his belly protruding from beneath his undergarments like a massive drum.
Another knock came at the door. This time the sound carried more force and intensity.
Xu Qing's heart leapt into his throat. Who could it be? Have they grown suspicious? What if they recognize me as an imposter and kill me right here?
Fear seized his body, but in the next instant, a thought struck through his mind like lightning. No... if I don't answer or hide in fear, that would be far more suspicious. For now, I need to go with the flow.
He took a deep breath to steady his fraying nerves and forced his tone to sound heavy and calm. "Come in."
The door opened and a young maid entered. Upon seeing her, the weight seemed to lift from Xu Qing's shoulders. It was only a servant.
When the maid politely inquired about his meal, Xu Qing found himself caught in another struggle. Should he eat here alone in his room or go outside and face this strange family?
His gaze fixed on the chamber's ancient furnishings. The original Chen Yun died here, holed up in his shell. I'm in his body now... in his shoes. If I also cower in this room and remain ignorant of my surroundings, my end will be the same—death. I need information to survive, and I'll only get that by going outside.
He cast a decisive look at the maid and said in a firm tone:
"I'll eat at the dining table. With everyone."
The maid approached with the silk robe, moving to help him change. Apparently this was his body's custom, but Xu Qing's reaction was instinctive. A stranger touching this bizarre and repulsive body... the very thought made his skin crawl.
"No." He stepped back. "I'll manage myself, thank you."
Ignoring the maid's astonished stare, he slowly dressed himself. When he finally attempted to walk, reality slapped him across the face. With the very first step, he realized this body was a prison.
As soon as he crossed the threshold into the corridor, he stopped. Two paths lay before him. He chose the right.
"Young Master... that's the wrong way. The dining hall is this way."
Xu Qing clenched his fist as a hot wave of embarrassment crept up his neck. Damn it... what must she think—that I don't even know my own house's layout?
He silently changed direction and began dragging his steps in the correct path. Walking, he heard footsteps behind him—but from a considerable distance. He glanced sideways. Jiao Mei was walking along the wall, maintaining a gap of several paces.
His brow furrowed. Strange. Shouldn't servants walk beside a sick and helpless master? So they can catch him if he falls?
The answer came not from pain, but from a sudden clarity about the original master's habits.
This Chen Yun had been a lecherous creature. He ogled the sect's women, mentally undressing them with his gaze, but he was also a complete coward. He lacked the courage to progress beyond staring and groping. His reputation was a pile of filth. No wonder the maid kept her distance; she viewed him as a predator, toothless though he might be.
Xu Qing shook his head bitterly and continued dragging his heavy steps down the corridor. Halfway there, he had to stop, leaning against a wooden pillar to catch his breath.
Peering through the corridor window at distant peaks piercing the clouds, a thought struck his mind.
This is a world of cultivation and spiritual power.
The memories he'd inherited were hazy, but he knew that much. In this world, people existed who could control their internal energy—'qi'—who flew on swords and shattered boulders with bare hands. In his previous world, such people would be considered super humans or gods.
And I... he looked down at his trembling, massive hands. I've arrived in a superman's world as the most useless and pitiful pile of flesh imaginable.
The journey to the dining hall felt like it spanned centuries. When the double doors came into view, his undergarments were plastered to him with sweat.
He wiped his brow and entered.
At the head of the rectangular table sat Chen Fusheng, whose presence filled the room like a silent, heavy boulder. In contrast, Madam Liu seated to his right radiated maternal warmth. Upon seeing him, her face brightened.
"Son, come, sit." She patted the sturdy chair beside her.
He circled the table to reach her and carefully settled into the seat. The wood groaned ominously under his weight.
"How are you feeling now?" Madam Liu asked, her hand finding his and pressing it gently.
"Better," Xu Qing began to say, but as he spoke, an invisible pain suddenly pierced his chest.
It wasn't the memory of a scene but the memory of pain. A sharp, crushing agony in his ribs, as if someone had struck with such force that his bones had splintered. He groaned involuntarily, his hand flying to his chest.
Madam Liu's grip tightened, fear flooding her eyes. "Does it still hurt? I told that physician to use the best medicine!"
"I'm fine," Xu Qing managed through clenched teeth. The phantom pain vanished as quickly as it had arrived.
"Don't spare a single thought for that cursed 'Bing Yu,'" Madam Liu said emotionally, interpreting his pain as heartache. "She's not worth the dust beneath my son's shoes. Your mother promises—I swear—I'll find you the most beautiful girl in the province. Someone worthy of you."
Before Madam Liu could continue, Chen Fusheng's heavy voice cut through the atmosphere.
"The matter is settled." His tone carried final judgment. He looked at his son, his eyes deep and inscrutable. "But, Chen Yun... a man must learn to see the pit before he falls."
He paused, lifting his tea cup. His voice dropped lower but grew more dangerous.
"Those who approach with the brightest smiles often hide the sharpest daggers. Be mindful of who whispers in your ear, son. Not every hand reaching toward you is there to lift you up."
Xu Qing lowered his head, his heart pounding hard. The warning was vague, but its meaning sank into his mind.
Strange people... who whisper in my ear.
In the depths of his consciousness, a warning bell rang. The name his mother had spat with contempt—Bing Yu—and another name that surfaced from the dark waters of his memory: Liu Jing.
Reality revealed itself with cold certainty. This wasn't mere misfortune. Bing Yu and Liu Jing... these were the people who had played key roles in Chen Yun's death.
***
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