Chapter One: God, Please Let Me Die Once More

The twelfth winter of the Zhenguan era of the Great Tang.

"Hundreds of thousands of homes resemble a chessboard; twelve streets are like rows of vegetable patches. From afar, one recognizes the faint glow of torches entering the court; a single line of stars west of the Five Gates."

At the beginning of the Mao hour, the massive city of Chang'an lay like an ancient, primeval beast dormant in the darkness.

The stars and moon were devoid of light, the north wind howled, and goose-feather snowflakes fell in thick, rapid flurries, blanketing the streets and rooftops. Stepping through the deep snow, lines of carriages bearing torches emerged from the neighborhood gates—just opened by the wardens—converging onto Vermilion Bird Avenue, moving in a grand procession toward Chengtian Gate to attend the morning court.

Though the time for the morning audience was fast approaching, the residence of Fang Xuanling, Duke of Liang and Secretariat Director, was in a state of noisy, chaotic disarray.

Approaching his sixtieth year, Fang Xuanling stood in the courtyard in his full court robes, hands clasped behind his back, gazing up at the snow-covered roof with a face full of anxiety.

A slender youth was sitting atop the roof, holding a jar of wine, taking a sip from time to time, and sighing deeply.

At this moment, a maid of twelve or thirteen years old ran over and fell to her knees before Fang Xuanling, her knees instantly sinking an inch into the snow.

"Sob... Master, it is all my fault. I did not keep a close eye on the Second Young Master... Sob..."

The maid, Qiao'er, was the Second Young Master's personal attendant. Having just woken up, she had only then realized that he had climbed onto the roof to drink before dawn. The Second Young Master had been ill for days and had only just begun to recover; what would happen if he caught a cold?

Filled with self-reproach for failing to discover his whereabouts in time, the young maid wept bitterly.

A flurry of footsteps sounded from inside the house, and the matriarch, Lady Lu, rushed out in a panic, asking urgently, "Where is he? Where is he?"

Fang Xuanling sighed and pointed toward the roof.

Lady Lu had clearly just risen; her hair was disheveled. Upon looking up and seeing her second son "drinking in the snow" on the roof, she immediately shrieked, "My child, come down! It is freezing out there; don't let yourself get deathly ill..."

Their second son, Yi'ai, had accidentally fallen from his horse while hunting outside the city some time ago, striking the back of his head. He had remained delirious and unconscious, leaving the entire Fang household in a state of anxiety.

Now that he had finally recovered, why had he gone and climbed onto the roof in the wind and snow?

Could it be that he had damaged his brain in the fall?

At this thought, Lady Lu was burned with anxiety, and tears began to stream down her face.

The youth on the roof, however, remained indifferent, looking up at the sky as if contemplating the meaning of life.

Fang Xuanling’s face darkened. Although he was deeply worried about his son, the early-morning commotion turning his household upside down was truly unseemly.

He barked, "Get down here at once!"

The youth remained motionless but leaned over to look down.

The torches and lanterns lit up the courtyard, and the reflection of the snow allowed them to see his face clearly.

He had a wholesome appearance, thick eyebrows, and large eyes. His fresh, boyish face appeared to be only fifteen or sixteen years old. He wore thin robes, and his build was sturdy and broad rather than imposing.

The youth looked at Fang Xuanling, then at Lady Lu, and finally spoke: "I will not marry Princess Gaoyang!"

The moment these words were uttered, the entire courtyard fell silent.

Fang Xuanling was startled, then immediately flew into a rage: "You rebellious son! Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

The youth stuck out his neck, defiant: "If you force me to marry Gaoyang, I will die right here for you to see!"

Fang Xuanling was so angry his beard bristled. He glared fiercely at his second son: "This is a marriage bestowed by the Emperor! How can a mere yellow-mouthed child like you refuse it? Where do you place the dignity of the Imperial House? Furthermore, to be a Prince Consort is a supreme honor; to reject it is simply absurd!"

Fang Xuanling fumed, wishing he could just slaughter this fool and be done with it.

When the Emperor makes a decree, who dares to refuse? Even if one truly did not want this honor, one could only dare to think it in one’s heart...

The youth seemed to realize that threatening death might not be effective, and his face crumbled into a look of bitter pleading: "How about... we talk to the Emperor? Can we not have Gaoyang, and choose someone else instead?"

Fang Xuanling was stunned: "...Choose someone else?"

Do you take the Princess of the Great Tang to be a head of cabbage? You don't like this one, so you pick through the pile and swap for another? This is pure suicide!

Fang Xuanling’s eyes turned bloodshot, and he roared at the sky: "You wretched beast! Get down here right now!"

...

Fang Xuanling rushed off to the morning court, though the hour had already passed. While the current Emperor was quite tolerant of veteran officials like him and rarely issued reprimands, the diligent Fang Xuanling had a strong sense of responsibility and would never take advantage of the Emperor’s favor to slack off.

Several charcoal braziers were set at the corners of the hall in the Fang residence, burning brightly and making the room as warm as spring.

Yet, in Fang Jun's heart, it was as freezing as the icy world outside...

Just a moment ago, he had been chairing a county-wide meeting on developing mechanized farming, so how did he black out and wake up in the Tang Dynasty?

If he had transmigrated, so be it. Even if the bright future of being the youngest division-level official in the province was gone, that was acceptable—who could explain the unscientific nature of time travel?

Transmigrating to the Tang Dynasty wasn't bad; he could finally experience the feeling of a nation where the whole world paid homage and the people were proud.

But for heaven's sake, why did he have to become Fang Yi'ai?

The legendary figure, the epitome of a cuckold, the super king of green hats, the glowing green giant!

Could it be because he shared the same name as this fellow?

Fang Jun’s name had been given by his father, a typical rural bumpkin who had never been to school and couldn't recognize a basketful of characters. He had no idea that the name he gave his son was shared with a famous historical figure.

It wasn't until middle school that Fang Jun learned there was a man in history named Fang Jun, courtesy name Yi'ai, who shared his name.

Speaking of that fellow—well, he was famous throughout the ages...

But now, he had actually transmigrated into this man from over a thousand years ago?

Oh my god, what kind of joke is this?

It was all his father's fault; if only he had named him Fang Shilong instead...

Fang Jun had always considered himself a person who took things as they came. He could endure poverty and accept setbacks, but for the love of heaven, he could not accept being cuckolded!

The exquisite side dishes on the table did not stir his appetite at all. His chest felt as if it were blocked by a thousand-pound boulder; it was heartbreaking...

"My son, please eat a little. These wontons with shepherd's purse are your favorite, and the pickled celery is great for stimulating your appetite..."

His mother, Lady Lu, chattered on, continuously using her chopsticks to pile food into his bowl, nearly feeding him herself.

Despite his extreme depression, Fang Jun felt a warmth in his heart.

This meticulous care and deep maternal love reminded him of his own mother in the other world.

His son, who had always been a source of pride and promise, had suddenly died. How heartbroken must his mother be to have to bury her own child?

Fang Jun suppressed his worry and grief, picked up a wonton, and shoved it into his mouth, but he couldn't taste a thing.

"You child, with so many people present, how could you say such things? If it gets out, won't the Emperor be furious? Besides, I think that girl Gaoyang is quite good. She has a fine figure, is pretty, and is the Emperor's beloved daughter. Why don't you like her?"

Lady Lu complained with some dissatisfaction.

At the mention of this, Fang Jun’s chest tightened: "Mother, Father listens to you the most. Can you ask him to talk to the Emperor and see if we can call off this marriage?"

Princess Gaoyang!

That was a legendary woman throughout history, a great pioneer of free love, and the typical representative of extramarital affairs...

And I'm the one stuck with her?

Lady Lu slapped her son playfully: "You child, what are you saying? What do you mean your father listens to me the most..."

She thought for a moment, realized that what her son said was actually true, and continued: "This matter, I'm afraid, is truly out of your hands. The Emperor has been quite agitated lately over that 'Genealogy of Clans.' It is said that the Duke of Shen, who oversaw its compilation, ranked the Cui family as the top clan. There are also rumors that the 'Five Surnames and Seven Clans' refuse to intermarry with the Imperial family to keep their bloodlines pure... The Emperor is very displeased. If you pull a stunt like this now, what will the Emperor think? He'll think, 'Oh, the Five Surnames and Seven Clans look down on my Li Imperial family, and now you, the Fang family, do too?' Think about it, is that possible?"

Lady Lu tried to persuade her son with earnest words, but her expression made her look like a proud rooster, full of spirit.

Uh...

He had forgotten. Lady Lu was a daughter of the authentic Fanyang Lu clan; she really did look down on the Li Imperial family, who had nomadic blood...

But what did that have to do with him?

He knew it would be difficult to get the Emperor to rescind his decree, but the problem was that if he followed the original trajectory and married Princess Gaoyang, he would absolutely, to avoid his hat turning green, wait for a dark and stormy night to slaughter that woman...

But then again, if he killed the Emperor's daughter, the outcome would likely be no better...

Thinking it over, Fang Jun discovered that he was in a dead end, no matter which way he turned.

There was no solution...

He felt so depressed that his vision began to blur, and he screamed silently in his heart: God, can you let me die one more time?