Chapter One: The Gears of Fate
Lingnan Road, Anqing Prefecture, Heyang County.
Grand Canal Wharf.
A caravan of mules, hauling wooden carts loaded with burlap sacks, trudged slowly toward the wharf where merchant boats were docked. The mules panted heavily in exhaustion, and the wooden wheels groaned under the weight with mournful creaks.
A group of bare-chested porters deftly shouldered the sacks and carried them onto the merchant boats moored by the dock. After sending off several boats, they gathered in small groups to take a breather from the heat, chatting idly about their families or grumbling about whether there would be any meat for supper.
Among them was Liu Shen, only seventeen years old.
But unlike the others, he sat alone in the shade, his head bowed as he wiped the sweat and dust from his face, a look of nervous anticipation flickering across his features.
From his perspective, a curious gear-like object spun rapidly before his eyes...
Whether it was a borrowed body or an awakened past life, it was hard to say.
At thirteen, Liu Shen’s hometown was struck by catastrophic floods. Countless homes were washed away, untold numbers drowned.
He lost his memory in the disaster, but by some strange twist of fate, a latent wisdom awakened within him.
He fled all the way to Anqing Prefecture, nearly starving to death along the way, and witnessed firsthand the bitter reality behind the light phrase “children swapped for food” that history books so casually mentioned.
With no memory of his life before thirteen, and not a single familiar soul around him, Liu Shen did not know who his “parents” were, nor even his place of household registration.
Alone in a strange land, with no relatives or friends…
He was as if forgotten by the world—a refugee, and a nameless one at that.
Not only did he suffer hunger and cold, but the clash of two worlds’ memories left him dizzy and reeling, teetering on the brink of collapse for days, surviving only on the thin porridge provided for disaster relief.
But the porridge was limited. Every day, there were refugees who died of hunger, unable to get their share.
A petty official, noticing his youth and sturdy build, offered him a suggestion—to sell himself.
Yes, to sell himself…
With a contract of indenture, he sold himself to the Canal Guild as a porter, eking out a living through hard labor.
The Canal Guild was a generic term: “Canal” represented the grain transport routes, “Guild” the riverside brotherhoods.
Whether it was the government’s transfer of southern grain northward, or the merchants’ movement of goods, all relied on the waterways—and could not avoid the guilds that lined the canal’s banks…
The canal connected the two great rivers and three tributaries within the Great Qian Empire, passing through eight circuits and thirteen prefectures; the boatmen, porters, deckhands, and laborers who lived off the Canal Guilds numbered in the hundreds of thousands!
Though the porters’ monthly wage was only seven qian of silver, and two qian of that had to be handed back as “tax” to the guild, leaving less than twenty copper coins a day—an almost laughable sum, given that a bun cost three coppers these days.
Yet, as the guild provided two hot meals a day, many like Liu Shen relied on this work to survive.
Looking on the bright side, it was precisely this job that kept him from starving to death during his teenage years, when “a growing boy eats his father out of house and home”...
O, my wheel of fate…
He watched the spinning gear slowly come to a halt, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles whitened with tension…
Ever since awakening his latent wisdom, he could see this so-called “Wheel of Fate” in his mind’s eye.
It seemed to lurk deep within his soul—visible, yet intangible. And it possessed a mysterious power: to alter fate!
Once a year, the “Wheel of Fate” would spin rapidly, then randomly change the course of his fortunes for the coming year…
In the past four years, it had altered his fate three times; this was the fourth.
The first time occurred just after his awakening, as he fled the floods. The wheel whirled and stopped, revealing the words “Star of Calamity” along with the phrase: “The Star of Calamity cannot be resisted; those close to it shall lose kin and parents.”
Back then, Liu Shen had reached Anqing Prefecture, still skeptical of the “Star of Calamity” curse…
But after noticing that misfortune befell anyone who grew close to him, he learned to accept reality, filling his belly in silence and avoiding much contact with others;
The second year, in the ninth month, the wheel spun and stopped with the words “Great Talent, Late Blooming,” and the phrase: “A lofty heart, two peaks of ambition; who says dreams cannot come true in middle age?”
He was only fifteen at the time, and the words “late blooming” and “middle age” left him deep in thought;
The third year, again in the ninth month, the wheel spun and stopped with “A Harmonious Home” and the phrase: “All is destined by Heaven, do not strive in vain; descendants shall flourish, blessings will flow.”
He stared at the promise of domestic prosperity for a long time, but as a solitary soul, all he saw was the word “useless”…
Three times fate had shifted, and though it was never bad, it was of no help whatsoever to his current situation.
Three years wasted, three useless changes of fate—no wonder he was anxious as the wheel spun a fourth time!
Liu Shen watched the Wheel of Fate slow, praying inwardly: “Let there be a stroke of great luck, a shining star, a windfall, a…”
Suddenly, his breath caught as the wheel stopped, displaying the words “Fated for Romance”…
Beneath it appeared another line: “As I am charmed by you, so too do you delight in me.”
“Fated… for… romance…”
Liu Shen’s face twisted in dismay. He looked around the wharf, and seeing nothing but shirtless, brawny men, a chill ran up his spine…
After so long at the docks, let alone women, even a mother mule started to look fair and delicate—what good was this “romantic fate” here?
In the glow of the setting sun…
The mules pulled the carts away from the wharf.
Xu, the foreman in charge of the dock laborers, sauntered out of the mess hall, one hand gripping a whip, the other picking his teeth with a fingernail. Like calling livestock, he shouted: “Long-term men of the Redwater Guild, come eat!”
The foreman’s appearance signaled that most of the day’s work was done for the wharf. If there was no night shift, the laborers could enjoy a peaceful meal and a restful sleep.
The Redwater Guild’s long-term laborers called to one another and headed for the hall, Liu Shen among them…
Xu, the foreman, was in his forties, whip in hand behind his back, with the slyness of a businessman and the air of a river rogue…
He scanned the crowd, saw that most of the laborers had arrived, and called out: “After you’ve eaten, porters stay behind. I have something to announce.”
The laborers outside the hall fell silent, nodding in understanding, but none dared reply aloud.
Xu was a minor boss in the Redwater Guild, overseeing the dockworkers at this part of the wharf.
If he caught any laborer slacking off, his whip would crack down mercilessly.
Thus, the dockworkers feared him greatly.
Xu knew this well; seeing their nods, he gave a slight smile and waved them in: “Go on, eat. There’s braised pork today.”
At the mention of braised pork, the workers’ eyes brightened as they rushed into the mess hall.
The main course was several buckets of rice—take as much as you wanted—and besides the usual fish, crab, and boiled greens, there was indeed a basin of oily braised pork.
With eight rivers running through Anqing Prefecture and the wharf nearby, fish and crab were cheaper than rice…
Year-round, the workers ate so much fish and crab that they were sick of it. Pork was twenty coppers a pound; sometimes they’d go a month without seeing any.
So no one touched the fish and crab; a crowd pressed around the braised pork.
If the staff hadn’t been there to watch, allowing only a ladleful per person, the whole basin might have vanished in an instant…
Liu Shen clutched his washbasin-sized bowl, filled it with rice, and sat by the fish and crab, wolfing down his meal.
In his teens and at the peak of his appetite, his capacity for food was astonishing, especially with hard labor each day.
While others used bowls, he used a basin…
He often counted himself lucky to work at Anqing’s wharf, where fish and crab were plentiful. Though the taste grew dull, the nutrition kept his body strong.
If he’d been somewhere else, he doubted whether his small frame could have grown at all…
The braised pork was soon gone, even the dregs scraped from the bottom to flavor the rice.
Hu Dahai, another porter, sat down beside Liu Shen with his bowl, teasing, “What’s this, Liu? No appetite today?”
“Not really,” Liu Shen replied between mouthfuls, “Just too many people. Not enough meat to go around, so I didn’t bother.”
“I’ve got some meat for you,” piped up Wei Dafu, another porter, joining them and kindly pushing a few pieces of braised pork into Liu’s bowl.
Liu Shen glanced at him in surprise.
Though he’d worked here four years, all of them were from the lowest rungs of society, just trying to survive. Poverty dulled ambition, and the daily grind left little time or energy for forming friendships.
Staring at the pork in his bowl, he asked, “What do you need, Dafu? Speak plainly.”
“Yes, I do have a favor to ask,” Wei Dafu scratched his head, a little embarrassed. “My wife had someone write me a letter a few days ago. I hear you can read—could you help me with it?”
He produced a crumpled letter.
“Sure,” Liu Shen nodded, not refusing such a small request.
After four years at the docks, he’d spent what little he could spare on books—travelogues, writings on geography and culture, unofficial histories and storybooks—to better understand and fit into this so-called Great Qian.
After all, he had no wish to be a porter all his life…
Liu Shen read the letter and said, “Your wife gave birth to a healthy boy and wants you to visit home when you have time.”
“My wife had a son?” Wei Dafu was stunned, then realization dawned and he leapt up, face beaming, “I have a son now?”
Liu Shen nodded, “That’s what the letter says.”
“Hahaha, wonderful!” Wei Dafu was overjoyed, forgetting his meal as he ran out to announce to everyone, “My wife gave me a son! I have a son now!”
Liu Shen watched him run out, laughing, and was reminded of something. He quietly asked Hu Dahai beside him, “Hasn’t Dafu been away from home for almost a year?”
“Nearly a year,” Hu Dahai nodded, a touch envious. “The fellow’s got luck, hasn’t seen his wife in a year and she still gave him a son.”
Liu Shen opened his mouth, unsure what to say.
Seeing Hu still so envious, he let the matter drop and returned to his meal.
After eating, he glanced back to see Xu the foreman cooling himself by the door. He asked quietly, “You heard him say he had something to tell us porters after dinner—any idea what it’s about?”