Shao Yan had a sensation of being immersed in warm water all over his body, his head swollen to twice its normal size, the whole body tingling, and eyelids feeling like they were laden with lead, making it impossible to lift them no matter how hard he tried.
The surroundings were as noisy as the vegetable market at the early afternoon on a day in early autumn. Shao Yan remembered the time when he and his playmates from the food supervision bureau sneaked out of the palace for some excitement. The crowded place was filled with bustling people and various smells. The executioner held a broad, dark green knife, with a cheek bulging with burning liquor, reflecting a mist-like water curtain sprayed by the sun. The condemned prisoners, each with a black hood over their heads, stood bound and kneeling in a row, trembling with fear. The executioner grinned, shouted “Long live the Emperor!” and bellowed, “Criminals, bow down!” The swift blade then descended—
—the crowd erupted in screams, and Shao Yan, shoulder to shoulder with someone, anxiously watched as the people around retreated like flowing water.
—He didn’t move.
The blade was sharp, and the head, like cutting tofu, instantly fell. The body that was still kneeling was now missing its head, and the blood spurted out eagerly, drenching Shao Yan’s face as he stood nearby.
The head rolled down the steps with a gurgling sound and came to rest at Shao Yan’s feet. The black hood loosened in the process, and a head with bloodshot eyes stared fixedly at the person standing above. Shao Yan lowered his head and gazed at it, feeling a surge of heat in his heart, as if he had just consumed a bowl of ice-cold sour plum juice on a scorching summer day—a pleasure beyond expression.
On that day, he received “hush money” of thirty wen from the executioner. Returning home, he hastily bathed by the river, listening to his friends’ unsettled discussions. However, he felt no fear in his heart.
Looking back now, could it be that his peculiar personality began to show its signs from that time?
At this moment, the Grand Supervisor of the Imperial Kitchen, a figure widely known and recognized, struggled to control his body, frowning and attempting repeatedly. Memories flipped rapidly like the pages of a mottled album, and long-forgotten events seemed to resurface from dusty boxes.
Finally, it came to the last chapter.
Dark clouds pressed upon the city, with flames and cries rising to the sky from all directions. Invaders attacked the capital, causing chaos, burning, killing, and looting. The palace guards and maids scattered in all directions, and those who used to flatter and curry favor were nowhere to be found. Inside his opulent kitchen, Shao Yan warmed a pot of strong liquor, paired with crispy fried peanuts. After a hearty meal, he carried a knife and coldly smiled as he went out.
With a tumultuous sound, the scene seemed to burst like a pricked bubble, disappearing in an instant.
Strange clamor started ringing in his ears once again—
“How did he fall so severely? Which class does he belong to?”
“Who knows. The instructor has been notified. He was found lying near the stairs this morning. Probably fell down in the middle of the night.”
“…It’s bad. The infirmary can only do simple treatment. Quickly call an ambulance.”
Shao Yan was moved around, and anger surged within him. With a heavy heart and about to reprimand, the movement of his head hitting the bed frame suddenly brought a stillness over him—from the blurry memories after rushing out of the hall, suddenly, everything became crystal clear.
Warm blood splattered on his face, and the tip of his tongue tasted a flavor sweeter and more delicious than brewed wine. The knife swung up and fell, and he was intimately familiar with the structure of bone and joint articulations. The marauders, even clad in armor, couldn’t escape his sharp and cunning attacks.
He put an end to nearly half of the vanguard searching party—over thirty people.
What finally made him stop was an arrow that pierced through his chest.
The university, with decades of experience, had long been prepared for such situations. Every year during the new student military training period, a portion of the on-campus medical staff accompanied the training to handle unforeseen circumstances. This prevented the kind of chaos that would have ensued when the instructor discovered Shao Yan collapsed in front of the dormitory building that morning.
However, even so, when Shao Yan was brought to the infirmary, his condition was still so severe that the campus doctors hesitated to make a diagnosis.
Starting from the blurry area at the back of his head, all the way down his neck and the entire side close to the ground, it was already soaked with fresh blood. It was said that the spot where Shao Yan was found in front of the dormitory building was also covered in blood, making the campus doctors reluctant to take action. They quickly contacted emergency services (120). Before the ambulance arrived, they performed some simple disinfection and bandaging, but as soon as they saw the wound, they knew it was bad.
The Shao family, throughout the city of A, was a renowned aristocratic family. Starting from the great-grandfather’s generation, they navigated through chaos, ventured overseas and on the mainland for business, and the Shao family’s restaurants began to flourish everywhere.
It is said that several generations of the Shao family ancestors had served as royal chefs in the palace, and the old Mr. Shao had even hinted at having a recipe book passed down through generations, known only to the descendants.
Although the recipe book had become worn and tattered over the years of turmoil and upheaval, the remaining essence was enough for the Shao family to establish a solid position in the domestic culinary world. With their industry spread across major cities in the country, the Shao family’s influence in the city of A was undeniably profound.
As for Shao Yan, although he wasn’t the eldest grandson of the Shao family, his father, Shao Gange, was the eldest son of the Shao family.
The old Mr. Shao had already retreated to the background some years ago, entrusting most of the family business to his eldest son, Shao Gange, and his younger son, Shao Yubo. As Shao Gange’s only son, even if Shao Yan was considered a prodigal with no notable achievements, he would undoubtedly lead a comfortable and privileged life.
In order to secure his son’s admission to the school, Shao Gange directly donated a teaching building to the medical school. The university had initially planned for Shao Yan to graduate smoothly, thinking that, as the eldest son of Shao Gange, he would have an easy life. However, who would have thought that this unexpected incident would occur just as military training began?
In the city of A, where the heavens were high and the emperor was far away, those with capital had the power of speech. With Shao’s old man having just passed away and the Shao family currently in disarray, who dared to touch the moldy heads of these local emperors?
The old university president’s bald head glistened with oil when he received the phone call. An emergency meeting was hastily convened, and a prompt decision was made to prioritize saving the person. Oh Buddha, why did this kind of thing have to happen to their benefactor?
Shao Yan felt deadly dizzy, vaguely thinking that he might have already kicked the bucket. However, when he woke up again, the nauseating discomfort hit him with remarkable clarity.
Without waiting to open his eyes, he immediately tried to sit up to vomit, pushing his arm against the bed—only to find he couldn’t get up.
Shao Yan was incredibly frustrated, wishing there was something nearby to throw. Even if he wanted to vomit, he didn’t have the strength for it. So, exhausted, he reluctantly opened his eyes. What he saw, however, instantly extinguished his raging emotions as if someone had doused him with a bucket of icy water.
It was a rather peculiar room, far from the grandeur of the imperial palace’s Taihe Hall bestowed upon him by the emperor. Yet, in its various styles, it was a sight Shao Yan had never encountered before.
The walls were painted in a peculiar color, somewhere between goose-yellow and white, looking very soothing. However, it didn’t seem like ordinary silk hung on the wall; the material appeared unusually rigid. Overhead, there was a string of incredibly bright night pearls. What made them unique was that, despite their brightness, they still gave off a soft and gentle feeling.
Upon visual inspection, Shao Yan estimated that there were around forty-eight pearls on the string, each about the size of a chicken egg. The pearls were crystal clear, and when looked at closely, the facets sparkled with a brilliant glow.
The window on the wall was not covered with fine window paper but with a piece of high-quality glass. Shao Yan had seen this material among the tribute offerings from vassal states. He once made a set of cups out of it, not as precious as crystal but exotic in its own right.
On that occasion, he prepared a dish of jade soy milk, which delighted the emperor so much that he danced with joy. The emperor happily allowed him to choose a reward from the private treasury. However, he was told that the set of cups wouldn’t do and must be reserved to be presented to the empress at the Millennium Banquet.
He wondered what happened to the empress and the emperor after the city fell…
Shao Yan was momentarily stunned, a fleeting interest arising. Being accustomed to wealth and luxury, his surprise at these treasures quickly faded away. After squinting for a moment, and as his strength returned, he slowly turned his head to look at the cabinets by the bed that he couldn’t quite comprehend.
With no explanation for the strange phenomena, some of these cabinets emitted a greenish glow. Shao Yan, who feared neither heaven nor earth, felt little fear at this moment. He considered grabbing something to throw at the cabinets and see how they reacted, but after a brief thought, he decided against it.
Suddenly, the room’s door opened without warning. The unexpected noise startled Shao Yan, but he quickly suppressed any reaction. He stared at the figure in white who had appeared at the door.
The duty doctor had originally opened the door as usual for a routine check and, upon meeting Shao Yan’s gaze, hesitated. For some reason, she took a step back before finally entering the room with a joyful expression, “You’re awake?”
Shao Yan stared at her. His expression remained natural, but he was watchful and didn’t speak until he understood her intentions.
The doctor, unfazed, reached out to remove the medicine bag by his bed, changed the medication, and then bent down to examine the back of Shao Yan’s hand.
Shao Yan’s gaze fell on the slender neck of the female doctor. In an instant, he flashed through a hundred plans to violently deal with her, waiting to strike back swiftly if she showed any signs of suspicion.
However, the doctor only checked the temperature of his hand before letting go. She smiled and asked if he felt uncomfortable while pressing the call button by the bedside.
Shao Yan was unsure of her intentions but understood that, for the moment, this person had no intention of harming him. He raised his hand to examine what the doctor had done to him. However, when his gaze fell on the back of his hand, his mind went blank.
The hand that met his eyes was white, plump, and greasy. A thin tube connected the back of his hand to his arm, and the hand seemed three times its normal size, leaving him momentarily stunned. After a brief moment of confusion, he instinctively opened his hand to look at his palm, and his mind was instantly filled with bewilderment, as if struck by lightning.
This hand had a severed palm.
The clean-cut break began on both sides of the palm, leaving a neat and precise incision. Due to illness, there was no trace of color in the palm; it remained white, plump, and greasy, with no roughness.
And Shao Yan couldn’t be more aware—since childhood, practicing martial arts and calligraphy, his palms were rougher than those of many ordinary people!
A buzzing sound filled his head, and a thought that had been hinted at since a while ago, but he had been hesitant to contemplate, finally surfaced.
Outside, there was a commotion, and the door opened again. A group of people, dressed similarly to the person in the white coat, flooded into the room—both men and women. Leading the group was a short man wearing a light green mask. He directed others to lift Shao Yan’s bed, while he himself inspected Shao Yan’s eyes, mouth, and looked left and right.
Shao Yan, facing a sudden change, was internally puzzled and uncertain, but he didn’t reveal any trace of it on the surface.
The doctor, who had initially intended to examine the back of Shao Yan’s head, reconsidered upon meeting his unsettling gaze and withdrew his hand. Flipping open a notebook, he scribbled some notes and said, “Nothing serious. You’re Shao Yan, right?”
It was indeed his name, and Shao Yan furrowed his brow slightly.
Not getting a response, the doctor glanced at the bed tag, cleared his throat, and asked again, “After the fall, do you remember how you fell?” Fell? Shao Yan shook his head slowly.
Seeing his movement, inexplicably, everyone in the entire ward breathed a sigh of relief.
The doctor’s tone softened a bit, “It’s okay if you can’t remember. Just be more careful in the future. However, it’s likely you’ll need some time to recover before returning to school. Shall I make a call to inform your parents?”
Parents?
Shao Yan didn’t have parents, and no one had ever attached those words to him. Yet, at this moment, he finally confirmed the answer in his heart that he had been reluctant to believe.
In that moment, Shao Yan’s muddled mind began to work at high speed.
The voice of the youth was slightly hoarse but clean, like gauze just lifted from a lake. Shao Yan answered softly, “I don’t remember.” His tone was calm.
The doctor’s pen paused, and he slowly lifted his head. His gaze focused on Shao Yan’s face, observing carefully. Gradually, his eyes widened with astonishment.
Amnesia? Impossible, right? That’s too cliché. Or is he faking it to get some time off?
However, Shao Yan’s calm and unruffled gaze made the doctor’s nerves inexplicably tense. The doctor involuntarily took a step back, and the seeds of doubt in his mind were extinguished before they could even sprout.
Suddenly, chaos ensued.
