Chapter 3: The Strange Rain Brings Calamity

A few farmers gathered around, staring intently at the “curious book” in Li Chuanglai’s hands.

“What’s so interesting about it? There isn’t a single word inside,” Erhu grumbled, scratching his head, unable to understand the fuss and unwilling to join the crowd.

Uncle De’s white hair swayed as he shook his head. They were all illiterate peasants; even if the thing held some intrigue, they had no way to unlock it.

“Hey, Uncle De, I’m pretty sure this book isn’t ordinary. Have you any clues, anything that might help?” Li Chuanglai cradled the book as if it were a treasure, snatching it away from the group and hugging it to his chest. Erhu caught every bit of this small display.

“If it were just a book for the imperial exams, I’d say forget it. But this book is strange, and I’d wager it’s connected to that scholar’s illness,” Uncle De replied. Among them, he was the most respected; only when he spoke did the others feel at ease.

“Oh, cut it out! Luo was always making a mountain out of a molehill. What’s a rat demon got to do with you?” Erhu mocked Chuanglai. Whatever Li Chuanglai insisted was right, Erhu would say was wrong, and whatever Chuanglai got wrong, Erhu would exaggerate.

Li Chuanglai’s temper flared at that. Shameless people rule the world, and he, Li Chuanglai, had never been a coward!

“I’m just being thorough, ever heard of it? Rat demons eat the crops! What are we supposed to do if we don’t solve this?” he shot back.

The crowd murmured anxiously; the deadline for handing over the grain was looming. If the fields were eaten, there’d be no good outcome for any of them.

Seeing the tide of opinion shifting to his side, Chuanglai took the chance to puff himself up. “Or are you, Erhu, going to dig up silver from the fields instead?”

Now, Erhu had grown up brawling with Li Chuanglai—he was a firecracker, never one to back down. He swung his sturdy elbow like a massive stone toward Chuanglai, cursing, “Bastard!”

Chuanglai dodged just in time, and Erhu’s elbow slammed into the ground, tearing up a patch of muddy earth.

Naturally, Erhu wouldn’t let Chuanglai off so easily after being provoked. The two chased and swung at each other, circling the crowd, until at last Chuanglai hid behind Uncle De, and Erhu glared so fiercely that Chuanglai dared not make a sound.

Uncle De had seen plenty of this in his day. He grabbed their hands and forced a truce. “If you really want an answer, let’s consult a sorcerer.”

In Anping County, there was a fortune-teller surnamed Yuan whose divinations were famous for their accuracy. He knew the secrets of yin and yang, life and death, and from ministers to peasants, all sought his guidance. He was said to dress in foreign garb, and his fortune-telling spot was never the same—whoever met him was meant to.

So Li Chuanglai, Uncle De, and Erhu set off together for the county seat. The small town was bustling, with teahouses, brothels, and crisscrossing lanes. Literati wandered in and out of tea shops, merchants discussed deals, and the guests of wine houses talked and laughed boisterously. From the high stages of the pleasure quarters, the courtesans gazed down at the world, their music and dance making the night lively and bright.

On one such stage, a woman in a dress of emerald silk cast a glance at Li Chuanglai amidst the sea of faces—and that one glance sent his heart into a flutter, making him forget time itself.

Chuanglai lingered, eyes trailing after her. Erhu spotted him and thwacked the back of his head. “What are you gawking at? Planning to act like a rogue? Careful or they’ll run you out bare-chested!”

“What do you mean, a rogue? This isn’t some red-light district—they’re running a proper business here, with all the right permits.” Chuanglai’s mood soured at the interruption. Erhu was so naive he’d never seen the world, so there was no point explaining.

Uncle De, unfazed, didn’t spare the brothel a glance. Noticing the two were distracted, he changed the subject smoothly. “We’ve spent some time getting here. Why don’t we each wander and grab a bite? Let’s meet in two hours at the pharmacy up ahead.”

Chuanglai and Erhu exchanged a defiant “hmph” and went their separate ways.

Though the county was small, the ways of life among its different classes stirred the imagination. There were no great cities, no towering buildings, no trams—only horses resting at the post station before hurrying on. People wore simple clothes of cotton and hemp, straw sandals to keep out the winter chill. Commoners talked of farming, merchants of trade, scholars of poetry. Someone claimed a once-in-a-millennium rain was coming, and Chuanglai scoffed at such wonders.

But what was really on his mind? Still, that courtesan in the brothel.

Suddenly, a figure darted by, yanked Chuanglai aside, and pressed him against a wall. Instinctively, Chuanglai’s eyes widened in fear—was someone really trying to rob him in broad daylight?

He was about to shout for help, but when he looked closer, he saw before him a man wearing a fortune-teller’s cap and, bizarrely, a modern athletic tracksuit.

“You… You must be Yuan Shu?” Chuanglai stammered.

“Yuan the Diviner—not Yuan Shu,” the man corrected him.

If one expected some otherworldly presence, an immortal air or extraordinary bearing, this man was no such thing. He looked more like a lanky, middle-aged uncle, ears as wide as plantain fans, body as thin as a bamboo pole.

“No wonder they say you wear foreign clothes. Where did you get that tracksuit? It looks way better than what I’ve got!” Chuanglai’s eyes lit up. In this place, with so little material comfort, a flashy outfit was a real marvel.

Yuan the Diviner shook his head. “I’ve seen plenty of players, but you’re the most surprising one yet.”

Only then did Chuanglai recall—this was a game. Finally, after all these days, someone who understood!

“Quick, tell me! How do I finish the next quest? I—”

Yuan the Diviner cut him off, donning a mysterious air. A famous diviner could not afford to break character.

“You want to ask about the book, don’t you?”

Chuanglai nodded eagerly.

“And about the rat demon, right?”

Chuanglai nodded even faster.

“Let me guess… you’re hoping for a hint about the other contestants’ progress, too?”

Chuanglai was about ready to break into song, so excited was he to be understood.

Yuan the Diviner arched an eyebrow and smirked. “Alright, I can only answer one question.”

Chuanglai, without thinking, blurted, “Hey! Where did you get that outfit? I just can’t let it go without knowing!”

“The game designer is a lazy shut-in who wanted to add something unique, so he gave me this modern look. I woke up dressed like this and can’t take it off, no matter the season,” Yuan replied.

Suddenly it all made sense to Chuanglai, and he felt enlightened.

“Great Diviner! Then, about the next clue—” he began.

But Yuan held up a finger to his lips. “Shh. One question means one question. Even a swindler must have principles.”

“Unbelievable! I’ve never seen a more scatterbrained game designer than whoever made me, Li Chuanglai. This is so inhumane!” Chuanglai complained.

Yuan the Diviner grew serious. “Let me give you a helpful warning: in this world, you must never reveal that you’re from the modern era or your real name. Otherwise—”

“Otherwise…?” Chuanglai prompted.

Yuan delivered a swift slap to Chuanglai’s face. “Hey! What’s your problem, hitting people?”

Just then, Chuanglai’s vision filled with a cascade of data and characters. Over Yuan’s face appeared the label “Swindler,” with bars below showing “Stamina,” “Quest Progress,” and “Clue Hints.”

“See? If you break the rules, your stamina drops dramatically. Remember, in this world, your name is Logan,” Yuan warned.

Chuanglai examined the glowing markers in his vision, pondering their meaning, barely noticing what the diviner was saying.

“Hey, Great Diviner! How do I operate this interface to find the next clue?” Chuanglai asked.

Yuan burst out laughing. “You should respect my NPC settings, don’t you think? Yoohoohohoho!”

With a flourish, Yuan transformed into mist and drifted away, the glowing halo Chuanglai had locked onto him fading as well. Chuanglai felt deflated.

“Remember, you must call yourself Logan, even in your mind. Otherwise, there’ll be trouble later on!” Yuan’s voice echoed.

Chuanglai took that to heart. Logan? Well, at least it wasn’t a terrible name. Since he was in a game, he might as well play his role properly.

Logan tried to judge the time, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t tell the hour. So he went straight to the pharmacy to wait for the others. From afar, he saw Erhu staggering toward him, clearly drunk, and thought he heard Uncle De’s voice shouting near the brothel—though he wasn’t sure.

After a while, the three returned to the village together. As they neared, thunder cracked, and the sky opened as if the Yangtze itself had turned over, unleashing a torrential downpour. The farmers scattered, and in a flash, the spinach fields were swallowed by water.