In the early autumn of the 23rd year of the Taihe era, the morning sun had just risen, casting its light over the lush forest. From afar, it was a beautiful autumn scene: a sea of green tinged with specks of gold. 

But for those within the forest, the experience was different. The sunlight caused humidity to rise from the ground, and their clothes clung damply to their skin. There was no breeze, and the air was filled with the musty scent of fallen leaves. It was stifling and uncomfortable. 

Li Xiaohan straightened up, tugged at her coarse cotton shirt that stuck to her body, and stretched her sore back. 

She had been working for more than an hour. It wasn’t exactly exhausting, just that she was hungry. The thin bowl of rice bran porridge she had in the morning had long been digested. 

She reached up to wipe the sweat from her forehead, when suddenly she heard faint sounds of crying. She tilted her head and listened closely; it seemed to be coming from the top of the mountain. 

And that was terrifying. At the top of the mountain was the Li family’s ancestral tomb. 

“Mother, Mother, do you hear that? Is someone crying up on the mountain?” Li Xiaohan was just thirteen, but she was naturally brave. While there was a trace of fear in her voice, it was mostly curiosity and nosiness. 

Unexpectedly, there was no response for a long while. Li Xiaohan turned her head and saw her mother, Madam Wang, staring fixedly toward the mountaintop. 

“Mother, what are you looking at?” 

“Xiao Han, come take a look—do you see someone in front of your grandmother’s grave up on the mountain?” Madam Wang’s lips had gone pale, and her voice shook as she asked her daughter to confirm what she saw. 

Li Xiaohan had never met her paternal grandmother, who had died when her father was just seven and was buried up on the mountain. Her grandfather later remarried a woman named Chen, who bore him two more sons. Each of those sons had wives and children of their own. 

So Li Xiaohan’s parents, along with her, had essentially lived under the control of Stepmother Chen. 

Li Xiaohan was short and couldn’t see as far as her mother, but she quickly scrambled up a tree. Standing on a branch, she shaded her eyes with her hand and looked toward the mountaintop. Her heart sank. 

“Mother, judging by the clothes and figure, I think it’s my father.” 

“Then that’s definitely your father! Something must have happened! Something must have happened!” Li Xiaohan wasn’t completely certain, but Madam Wang, as if receiving confirmation, screamed hoarsely and began running up the mountain. 

Xiao Han slid down from the tree and quickly followed. 

The higher they climbed, the more clearly the muffled sobs reached their ears. Growing anxious, the two paid no attention to the rough path and stumbled several times, each time getting up and running again. 

When they finally reached the top, they saw Li Xiandong, a dark-skinned, quiet 37-year-old farmer and the backbone of their small household, kneeling in front of the grave, bent over, crying hoarsely. 

Li Xiaohan’s tears fell at once. 

“Father, Father, what’s wrong?” 

Perhaps he had been crying too hard, burying his head and stifling his sobs, so he hadn’t noticed his wife and daughter approach. It was only when Xiao Han called out that he looked up. 

His eyes were bloodshot, tears and snot streaming down his face. He looked like a trapped beast in agony. 

“Father, Father, what happened? Tell us. We’ll figure something out together.” Li Xiaohan’s heart pounded wildly as all sorts of terrible thoughts filled her mind. 

“…” 

Li Xiandong’s pale lips opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out. Finally, he rasped in a gravelly voice, as if grinding blood and stone, “Your grandfather… your grandfather said he wants to divide the family.” 

Divide the family? Just a family separation? Li Xiaohan let out a breath of relief. She had feared something worse had happened to her father. 

“Husband… how… how does Father want to divide it?” Madam Wang, who had remained silent until now, didn’t share her daughter’s relief. Her voice trembled as she asked. 

“Father said… Father said he’s separating us from the family. From now on, he’ll live with Second and Third Brother. He’s giving us two mu of paddy field, three mu of dry land, and five strings of coins for building a house, so we can go out and build our own and live separately.” 

Perhaps feeling that this division of the family was too shameful to face his wife and daughter, Li Xiandong covered his face with both hands, his muffled voice leaking through his fingers. 

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Madam Wang, already a timid woman, collapsed to the ground in tears upon hearing this. 

Li Xiaohan’s knees nearly gave out as well. She clutched the gravestone beside her just to stay standing. 

She looked around the mountaintop, completely lost. 

The Li family of Pingshan Village was said to have been a scholarly household a hundred years ago. 

Many years ago, their clan fled to this area to escape disaster. Even so, they never forgot their ancestral teachings and continued to regard themselves as a prestigious family. Whenever the family divide its household, the eldest legitimate son would receive the largest share of the family assets and take on the duty of supporting the elders, while the remaining sons would divide the smaller shares among themselves. 

This family rule was as unquestionable as the rising and setting of the sun. 

However, during this division of household, Li Xiaohan’s grandfather, Li Shengli, chose to separate out Li Xiaohan’s father, Li Xiandong, the eldest son. In terms of family tradition, this meant the father had deemed the eldest son unfilial and no longer wished to live with him. 

It was essentially scolding Li Xiandong to his face and a complete rejection of everything he had done for the family in the first half of his life. 

What’s more, this division by Li Shengli was especially harsh. Although traditionally the eldest son received the larger share, most parents still considered their children’s futures and ensured that, even beyond tradition, the rest of the sons could at least survive after the split. 

Li Xiaohan quickly calculated in her mind: the Li family currently had 24 mu of paddy fields planted with rice, and 35 mu of dry land—10 mu planted with wheat, the remaining 25 with cotton. But her branch of the family was only given 2 mu of paddy fields and 3 mu of dry land. Based on the current grain yield and tax requirements, about 2 mu of land could feed one adult male, with women and children counting as half. 

This bit of land from her grandfather was just enough to keep their family of three from starving to death—and nothing more. 

As for money, there was no need to even think about it. The family was managed by their step-grandmother, Madam Chen, and with all the male cousins attending school, they claimed poverty every year. Most likely, they’d be given a few strings of coins to build a thatched hut, if anything at all. 

But Madam Wang, her mother, had injured her body during childbirth years ago and hadn’t had another child since. Over the years, she had been on and off medication.

Even though the medicine only cost a few dozen wen per dose, there were always reasons why money was tight, and the treatments would be interrupted. When they could afford it, the same herbal decoction would be boiled until the broth turned from rich to clear as water—but it was still a small hope for Madam Wang and Li Xiandong. 

Now, with this split, even barely surviving was a luxury. Medicine was out of the question. 

Li Xiaohan didn’t mind separating from the main family. Her step-grandmother was biased. Their branch of the family did the hardest, heaviest labor, yet always received the worst food and supplies. She had long been unwilling to keep slaving away at the old house just to support others. 

She also believed that, with her family’s hard work, they could live a better life than they did at the main house. 

But only if the division had been fair. Even just a slightly better arrangement would have allowed them to manage. What they were given now was just enough to scrape by—not to live. 

Li Xiaohan’s heart turned cold. Though she was a bold and opinionated girl, seeing her parents paralyzed by grief, she had to step up and remind them: “Father, Mother, we have to make this a big deal. Grandfather cares about his reputation. And cousin Changrong needs a good name to keep studying. We’re in the right—so the clan has to support us!” 

“Yes! Yes! Let’s ask the clan head to deliver justice,” Madam Wang said, wiping her tears and nodding anxiously. 

“It’s useless,” Li Xiandong said, his voice filled with sorrow and despair. “Father said that Changrong has been accepted as a formal disciple by Scholar Zhu next door. He even bestowed a courtesy name—Zhiyuan. Father said that Changrong shows great promise, so he and Mother will now live with my second brother’s family.” 

A student who had been officially accepted as a disciple and given a courtesy name… no wonder her father had practically been kicked out. 

Li Xiaohan knew the clan was desperate to produce a scholar. 

The Li clan prided itself on a hundred years of scholarly tradition, but for more than a decade now, not even a xiucai (licentiate) had emerged. During the busy farming seasons, they fought over water. When farming work eased, they still had no rest. There wasn’t a single person who could represent them with dignity. Even Clan Head Li had no real voice in front of the village chief. 

Now that her cousin had been accepted as a disciple by Scholar Zhu, the clan will definitely support him as a promising scholar.

No wonder her father had been cast out like garbage and had no choice but to sneak away and cry at his mother’s grave. 

This was how the world worked—everywhere was a dead end, and there was no escape. 

No matter how bold and opinionated, Li Xiaohan was still just a thirteen-year-old girl. She leaned against her grandmother’s tombstone and slowly slid down. The rough stone scraped her hands, but it hurt less than the pounding pain in her head. 

Meanwhile, Madam Wang’s wails drilled into her ears. “Father, how could you be so heartless? Mother, why did you have to die so early? Xiandong, it’s all my fault for dragging you down.” 

Her father’s words echoed again and again, pounding in her head: “Changrong has been accepted as a disciple by Scholar Zhu next door. He was given the courtesy name Zhiyuan. Courtesy name Zhiyuan…” 

Li Zhiyuan. 

Li Zhiyuan. 

Li Changrong, courtesy name Zhiyuan! 

It was like a hammer slamming into the depths of Li Xiaohan’s skull. 

A burst of white light exploded before her eyes. Countless threads of force pulled at her mind, and suddenly, everything came back to her. 

She had transmigrated into a book.