A thin mist draped the fields outside the village like delicate gauze, the distant mountains faintly visible, as if painted in an unfinished ink wash. This unremarkable village in the late Yuan dynasty was poised to ripple through history's current, stirred by an unexpected time-traveler.
Chen Zijian—now living as Zhu Chongba—stepped barefoot into the cool morning soil, the mud squishing between his toes with an oddly comforting familiarity. He knelt to inspect newly planted bean sprouts, gently brushing their tender leaves, and smiled at the villagers trailing behind him.
"Look at these little things," he said. "They've got big potential, letting the land breathe, just like people need rest."
The villagers exchanged puzzled glances, unsure how this once-ordinary farmer's son had gained such profound agricultural wisdom. Zijian only smiled, keeping his secret. As a time-traveler, he brought basic modern farming knowledge, a near-miracle in the war-ravaged, famine-stricken late Yuan.
"Crop rotation, intercropping—these are textbook basics in the 21st century, but here, they're lifesavers," he thought. "The Yuan's endless wars have left fields barren and food scarce. Reviving this land isn't just survival—it's my foundation."
He hefted a hoe, demonstrating how to dig drainage ditches. Sweat mingled with dirt on his brow, but his eyes gleamed with purpose. Though the villagers didn't grasp the science, his enthusiasm was infectious, and they joined the labor.
"Full fields mean full bellies," Zijian said, wiping his forehead and grinning. "Strengthen yourselves, and even if wolves come, we'll have the legs to run!"
His plain words drew knowing chuckles. In this resource-scarce era, a full meal spoke louder than flowery rhetoric.
---
Months later, the once-desolate fields burst with green. Wheat swayed like ocean waves, bean pods bulged, and even vegetables deemed "unplantable" thrived. For the first time, the village granary didn't empty before the autumn harvest. Elders no longer starved to save food for children, whose laughter now rang brighter.
"The Field Saint! He's our Field Saint!" villagers whispered about Zijian. Though he went by Zhu Chongba, to them, he was a legendary figure with near-magical abilities.
But Zijian knew a bountiful harvest was both a blessing and a potential curse in this era. Prosperity could attract predators, and he had to be vigilant.
"Luo Cai," he called to a village boy, "check the village entrance for strangers. Rotate shifts every two hours, got it?"
Luo Cai thumped his chest proudly. "Don't worry, Brother Chongba! With our youth squad, no thief will step foot here!"
Zijian smiled, ruffling the boy's hair. Since repelling the Yuan soldiers, he had organized the village youths into a makeshift militia, teaching them archery and improved firearms. This was not just for defense but preparation for a potential uprising. After all, the historical Emperor Hongwu had risen from such grassroots rebellions to claim the throne.
"Today, we learn the hand cannon," Zijian told a group of fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds. "It's powerful but dangerous. Handle it carefully."
He presented a crude firearm crafted from bamboo and metal—rudimentary but revolutionary for the era. He explained loading, aiming, and firing, the boys staring in awe.
"Tiger, give it a try," he said, handing the cannon to a sturdy youth.
Tiger took it, hands trembling. Gunpowder, metal, and fire were alien and terrifying to a farmer's son. Zijian crouched beside him, steadying his shaking hands. "Fear's fine, but don't back down. In chaos, the brave live, the timid die."
Tiger gritted his teeth, nodding. Under Zijian's guidance, he aimed at a straw dummy and fired. A deafening boom followed, and as the smoke cleared, a fist-sized hole gaped in the dummy's chest. The boys erupted in cheers, and Tiger broke into a grin.
After training, Tiger volunteered for the night's first watch, his eyes shining with newfound resolve. Zijian clapped his shoulder, thinking, "This kid's got potential. In chaos, even youths can rise. History shows Emperor Hongwu's first followers were often this young."
---
Night fell, a full moon casting silver light over the sleeping village. Only Zijian's hut glowed faintly with lamplight.
He sat at a table, meticulously drafting a map of the village's terrain, water sources, and escape routes. As a modern man, he knew the value of preparation. In his vision, this village would be his base for rebellion, but much work remained.
Across from him, Peishi mended a tattered garment. Since Zijian saved her from sacrifice, she had stayed by his side, her initial gratitude blossoming into deep love.
"Hiss—" Peishi gasped, dropping her needle.
Zijian looked up, seeing her suck her finger, brows furrowed. "What's wrong?"
"Pricked myself," she said softly, blushing.
He set down his pen, crossed to her, and gently took her hand. "Let me see."
In the dim light, a tiny bead of blood glistened on her fingertip. Without thinking, he bent and sucked the droplet away. Peishi trembled, a jolt racing from her finger to her heart. His warm, dry lips sparked a rush that set her pulse pounding.
Realizing the intimacy, Zijian released her hand, pulling a clean cloth from his pocket to bandage her finger. "There, it's fine."
Peishi gazed at his focused profile, her heart still racing. "My savior, you're so kind to me," she whispered, her voice softer than usual.
He met her eyes, finding them starry with admiration and love. A new warmth spread through him—yearning, and a rare appreciation for calm in this chaotic world.
Since arriving in this era, survival had left no room for emotions. But facing this pure, brave woman, he felt a stir of longing. Perhaps, in this new world, he could find the authentic connection his modern life lacked.
"Peishi," he said, voice low and firm, "you're my confidante, my woman."
Without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms, his lips claiming hers in a fierce, possessive kiss. His tongue parted her lips, plundering her sweetness.
Peishi stiffened, then melted into the kiss. She had never known such intimacy, but instinct told her this was what she craved. "My savior, I'm yours," she murmured between kisses.
Zijian lifted her, striding to the bed. Moonlight spilled through the paper window, silvering their forms. He gazed at her, desire burning in his eyes. "Tonight, you're mine."
Peishi's cheeks flushed, her eyes a mix of shyness and anticipation. In this uncertain world, a night with her beloved was a rare treasure. "My savior, come," she whispered.
He peeled away her clothes, revealing skin like polished jade, glowing in the moonlight. His lips traced her neck, leaving a trail of heat, then claimed a delicate bud at her breast, drawing a gasp.
Peishi's soft moans filled the air, her body writhing, hands clutching the sheets as if to anchor herself against the unfamiliar waves of pleasure.
His hand slid down her smooth waist, finding her warm, moist center. She shuddered, her moans growing unrestrained, legs parting to welcome his touch. His lips trailed to her abdomen, fingers teasing her sensitive core.
"My savior, I can't…" Peishi's voice broke into a sob, her hands gripping his hair as her body quaked with desire.
Zijian grinned wolfishly. "We're just beginning."
He shed his clothes, revealing a lean, muscular frame honed by labor and training. Lifting her legs to his shoulders, he entered her with a single thrust.
"Ah!" Peishi cried out, pain and pleasure intertwining. She clung to his back, nails digging into his flesh.
His movements grew fierce, each thrust shaking her, her moans unbroken. He bit her earlobe, growling, "Louder."
"My savior… I love you… harder…" Peishi surrendered to the tide of desire, shame forgotten.
Their bodies entwined, sweat and heat mingling, the room filled with the sounds of flesh and intimacy. Zijian flipped her, entering from behind as she knelt, her hips raised to meet his relentless rhythm. Her moans faltered with each impact.
She glanced back, eyes dazed with submission. "My savior, I'm yours…"
Zijian took without relent, Peishi gave without reserve, their souls merging until they reached ecstasy's peak. With a low roar, he released inside her, holding her trembling form tightly.
Panting, Peishi nestled against his chest, feeling his strong heartbeat. "My savior, I'm yours forever," she whispered, voice thick with contentment.
Zijian kissed her forehead, his voice rough with sated desire. "You're only mine."
---
Morning light filtered through the paper window, warming the aftermath of their passion. Zijian lay beside Peishi, watching her sleep in his arms, a fierce protectiveness swelling within. In this brutal era, her presence was a rare light.
He stroked her cheek, and she smiled in her sleep, pressing closer. He rose quietly, retrieving a small bundle from a wooden chest in the corner.
Inside was a jade pendant carved with a simple dragon pattern, a keepsake of "Seventh Brother," said to ward off evil, acquired from a wandering mystic. Though Zijian dismissed such beliefs, the pendant held symbolic weight in this era.
When Peishi woke, he presented it solemnly. "This was Seventh Brother's. Now it's yours."
Her eyes widened—jade was priceless in this starving age. "My savior, I'm not worthy," she choked, tears glistening.
He took her hand, his gaze steady and tender. "When I overthrow the Yuan and bring peace, I'll marry you. This is my vow."
In that moment, he pledged not just to her but to his path. He would tread the road Emperor Hongwu left unfinished, forging his own dynasty. And Peishi would be his unwavering support.
Tears spilled as she trembled. "I'll follow you, never leaving, even if the sky falls."
They embraced, their love a fragile candle in the darkness of chaos, illuminating their shared future.
Zijian looked out the window at the fields he'd revived, the youth militia he'd trained, the villagers beginning to trust him, and Peishi in his arms. This was just the beginning. On the stage of the late Yuan, he would write his own legend..
"History isn't changed by one man, but by a group with dreams," he thought. "And I, from the future, know exactly what this era needs."