“Damn.”

Yang Li was staring suspiciously at the ceiling, or, to be precise, at the unusual-looking canopy hanging over his bed. There could be no canopy in his house, and his bed was single with an orthopedic mattress. Not a wide bed with featherbeds on which you could break your back.

As he climbed up, Yang Li tried to remember if he and his friends at the bar last night got too drunk to wake up in someone's bed in the morning, but his memory was impeccable, and our hero was more than sure that he sat at his laptop last night and thought about how to finish the story.

He wanted to write a short story about a hunter slaying goblins, but after several hours of tortured history writing, he decided to put aside the writing and read the novels. Going to an online novel reading site, Yang Li looked through the page "popular," and when he saw the good old "Saga of the Seven Scriptures" there, he plunged into nostalgia.

Except for the film "Forbidden Kingdom," this was the first Xianxia work about transmigration or reincarnation that Yang Li got acquainted with. As a typical web Xianxia, ​​he quickly got bored because the main character is always right, and he is perfect despite his arrogance. Simultaneously, all the girls are drop-dead gorgeous and wanted to become a part of his harem. The same type of villain is needed only to show how excellent the main character is.

At first, the hero pursued noble motives to save his homeland and solved all problems with his mind and ingenuity. However, the author forgot this storyline pretty quickly, and the main character ended up treating others worse than his enemies.

Not to mention that the hero was never mistaken in his judgments, or there was nothing that he could not know. In general, the tales ranked first in the list of works that Yang Li regretted reading.

At this, his memories were interrupted.

“Just what is going on right here?”

Once again voicing his thoughts, Yang Li looked around. The room he was in was spacious, and even the giant bed hardly took up a quarter of the space. The entire space was trimmed with wood, and the unusually narrow windows had a patterned frame, dividing the window space into many rectangular sections.

“I was kidnapped by Asians? No, it's too crazy and, in principle, impossible.”

Yang Li immediately discarded the incredible assumption, as it is impossible to be taken to Southeast Asia from his apartment in...

“Heck! Where did I live then?”

Yang Li was confused. He remembers the interior in his apartment and remembers his name, but he cannot remember in any city he lived in, nor his acquaintances' faces. Trying to focus on his memories, Yang Li collapsed to the floor in wild convulsions and screamed in pain.

Hundreds and thousands of memories instantly rushed into his mind. The little boy was reaching out to his dying mother. The older brother was crying over the loss. The elderly father was silently immersing himself in his sorrow. All these memories did not belong to Yang Li. In them, people spoke in a language unknown to him, and the more memories were scrolled, the more pain he felt, and at the same time, the unknown words and text took on meaning.

“Damn.”

Yang Li passed out.

A handsome attractive young man looked in the mirror. Usually, the mirror's reflection had a proud, haughty look, which only a spoiled rich child could have. Still, now the person's eyes in the reflection expressed sullen dissatisfaction as if the person had just woken up, not getting enough sleep and mortally tired.

This is how Tian Zhe's reflection looked, in which Yang Li's mind prevailed.

In fact, only memories were left of Tian Zhe's personality passed on to Yang Li, so it was easier for the young man to respond to a name from a past life than from a present one.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Did you say something, young master?” Zhe, out of habit, voiced his thoughts, but since he was not alone, the servant who helped him get dressed answered him.

“Nothing,” Tian Zhe looked at the young girl. She looked younger than him from his past life but older in the current one. “Leave me. Then I'll go about my business.”

"Good."

After the maid left his room, the young man took out writing materials and, immersed in his own thoughts, began to write.

A day passed after his awakening, and Zhe more or less orientated himself in the surrounding reality, but for his own peace of mind, he had to sort everything out on the shelves.

He is now thirteen-year-old Tian Zhe, the second son of the head of the Fire Orchid family, one of the three sacred families of the Jade City. Even though the Fire Orchid family is not dominant, it can easily overwhelm small noble houses.

Tian Zhe has an older brother who is three years older than him. They have no mother since she died of illness when Zhe was a child. For this reason, since childhood, both boys did not know maternal love, which, together with a special attitude towards them as sons of the head of the clan, spoiled both brothers. Fortunately, Zhe now has a different character. Not so arrogant and domineering, but in its own way nasty.

Pondering the identity of the previous owner of the body, Zhe put down his calligraphy brush and looked at the text he had just written.

"Tian Zhe" is written in the local language, also in English.

"Yang Li" written in English.

"Pharmacy, street, lamp" in the local language and English.

Zhe possessed all memories of a past life, including knowledge, acquired experience, and life as a set of actions and communication. Still, his memories did not contain people's appearance and details, such as information about the city or country of residence, even though he could list some countries' names and capitals. Based on the language, Zhe concluded that he could live in an English-speaking country.

Based on how he wrote his last name, Zhe made sure that his racial identity would remain unclear. His name is Yang, and his surname is Li, both Asian and European origin. The name is written before the surname speaks more about the fact that he could live in the west since in most non-English-speaking countries and Asian countries, it is customary to write the surname before the name.

“In favor of the fact that I lived in an English-speaking country, you can accept that I do not know the meaning of my name,” Zhe voiced his thoughts again. He clearly remembered that the Southeast countries' inhabitants attached importance to the meaning hidden behind the name.

Consequently, if he were Asian, he would know the meaning of his name perfectly and perhaps be proud of him, believing that the name reflects his personality and destiny.

He was confident in his judgments since he could write a line from a poem even in this world's language because he knew the meaning of words.

“Okay, it doesn't matter anymore,” Zhe finally became convinced that his memories of the appearance of people from his previous life were greatly distorted, so he considered it at the cost of rebirth.

Moreover, he has already gone through all the stages of depression associated with his current situation. The reason why he was putting everything in his head just now was that yesterday; he denied his rebirth and, together with severe headaches, lay all day in bed, outwardly resembling a servant of a madman. It was only this morning that Tian Zhe accepted the fact of his rebirth.

This world was reminiscent of the Wuxia or Xianxia genre since, along with memories, Zhe received knowledge about the world. There was a cultivation system like in Xianxia, ​​and each person possessed spiritual energy in the so-called meridians and the spiritual core.

Zhe closed his eyes and concentrated all his senses on his right hand. He felt tactile sensations from the muscles; his skin felt the movement of a cool draft, weak irritation from the movement of blood through the vessels, pinching his elbow felt pain. Determining the nature of each sensation and mentally cutting them off from all others, Zhe felt a strange flow in his hand. It didn’t look like blood flow since there was no mild stimulation suppressed by the brain.

Recalling how the real Tian Zhe released those small spiritual powers that he possessed, Zhe concentrated on his hand and released this energy through his fingers' tips. In the beginning, Zhe released a small portion of spiritual energy, but after a few minutes, he managed to shape it into a needle.

He was pleased with the experiment's result, and when he finished, he left his room to eat. Beforehand, not forgetting to tear the paper on which he wrote to pieces.

Zhe went to his estate, relying on Tian Zhe's memory. Even in motion, he periodically created needles from spiritual energy and, at the same time, pondered about the last question that remained with him.

“And yet, am I an ordinary mob or transmigrated as an important character in the story?”

Perhaps this was the main problem that worried Zhe because his life could depend on it.

In the first case, he just needed to become strong and independent, which is not so difficult given his family's position. In his body of a thirteen-year-old teenager resided the consciousness of an adult with critical thinking.

In the second case, everything was much more complicated because if he turns out to be a villain or henchman of a villain, his very life can end under the plot's weight in the main character's name. After all, everyone knows that in works about cultivators, villains are needed to show how smart, handsome, and witty the main character is. If he was a friend of the main character, Tian Zhe only needed to put on a mask of friendliness and hypocritically remain a "friend" for the main character.