Joy of Life

The one good thing about being reborn would probably be having four limbs that one could be active with. Xian was grateful for this fact; it would be difficult for people who never experienced the kind of disease he had to feel the sort of happiness he felt. He took comfort in the fact that this was perhaps God’s gift to him.

It took him four years to finally figure it out: Since he had an opportunity to live again, why not make the most of it? If God had blessed him with this new life and he had wasted it, wouldn’t that dishonor God? Since he could move now, why not move even more?

All the servants of the Count’s House knew that this young master, born of a concubine, was an extremely active child.

“Young master, we’re begging you! Please, calm down!”

It was during that moment that Fan Xian was sitting at the very top of the fake mountain in the courtyard, smiling as he looked out toward the distant sea.

To the maids, it was clear that a 4-year-old boy who climbed such heights and smiled with such maturity was insane.

Gradually, more people gathered around the fake mountain, with seven or eight servants eventually forming a hasty circle around the mountain.

Although Count Sinan was appreciated by the emperor, he did not earn a lot of money and was of low-ranking nobility. Even if he did earn a lot of money, he couldn’t possibly spend it all on his mother and illegitimate child. That’s why there were so few servants in the Count’s home.

Fan Xian looked down from the fake mountains at the faces of the panicking servants and could not help but sigh. He obediently climbed down, “It was only a bit of exercise. Why all the fuss?”

The servants were used to the peculiar maturity with which the young master spoke, and so simply ignored the quirk as they took him away to his shower.

After washing Fan Xian until his lips were bright red, his teeth sparkling white, his body

smooth and smelling good, the maid held him up and smiled whilst rubbing his cheeks,

laughing as she said, “Young master looks exactly like a little girl; I wonder what lucky lady will be blessed with you in the future.”

Fan Xian naively did not reply, as he wasn’t the kind to use a four-year-old’s mouth to flirt with a maid in her teens; he refused to do something so tasteless...He would wait until he was six to take on such a challenging task.

“Time to sleep, kid.”

The maid patted the little boy’s bottom. All of the servants found it odd that despite the young master’s age, he was already developing an unruly attitude, and yet at the same time, he maintained the self-discipline and diligence of a grown man.

Like during his naptimes.

Those that had a normal childhood would remember how they had to fight with demons who would try forcing them to sleep during a sunny afternoon.

One knew these demons by the name of Mom, Dad, or even their teachers.

But young master Fan Xian never needed anyone to force him to sleep. Everyday at noon, he would put on his cutest, most innocent smiling face and return to his bedroom obediently to sleep, never making a single sound.

The old lady did not believe it at first, often shouting at the maids to keep an eye on him. She thought that the boy was using sleep as an excuse to mess around and play on the bed. However, after keeping an eye on him for half a year, she realized that the boy was indeed sleeping, dead to the world and often difficult to wake up, even when shouting at him.

From then on, the maids didn’t pay much attention, and just kept guard outside his room.

It was summer, so naturally the maids were tired, their bodies tilting to the side. The small fans in their hands moved softly, and occasionally, a firefly would dance in the wind created by the fan.

...

...

Back in the bedroom, Fan Xian climbed onto his bed and uncovered the mat, carefully retrieving a book that he had hidden.

The cover of the book was a light yellow, and it was showing its age. There was not a single word on the cover, but the borders were embroidered using unknown motifs. These motifs curled on their final stroke, like clouds or the wide sleeves of ancient clothing.

He gently opened the book to page seven, which showed the illustration of a ** man. A part of the man’s body was obscured by red lines, and even though the boy couldn’t discern what paint the red lines were made with, they created an illusion that made them seem as though they were slowly moving in some direction.

Fan Xian sighed; he looked four on the outside, and he had to be careful not to reveal his true self. Fortunately, he had the book to pass the time with.

The book was given to him by a blind youth named Wu Zhu when he was very little...

Fan Xian had always thought of the young blind man, who was a servant of his mother in this world.

Trapped in the body of the baby, he had lain in the arms of the blind young man while travelling from the city to the port. Perhaps the young man did not anticipate a baby remembering anything, but as Fan Xian was not an ignorant baby on their travels together, he could tell that the young man truly cared for the toddler with all his heart.

For some unknown reason, the young man left after dropping him off at the duke’s no matter how the old lady had persuaded him to stay.

Before he had left, he placed the book next to the baby.

Fan Xian always had suspicions about the situation: Did the servant have no reservations about him learning on his own? After some thought, he realized that the reason was because he was still a baby at the time, and it would have been thought impossible for him to recognize the words, so naturally there was no problem.

However, Fan Xian could read the text of this world, and after the dramatic change that had happened to him, he believed, without a doubt, in the existence of gods and devils. He was even more certain that the book looked exactly like a prop on a Hong Kong wireless television drama, some kind of spiritual training to zhenqi. [1]

It was a shame that there was no name to the book, otherwise he would have been out on the streets asking the neighborhood kids if this zhenqi spiritual training method was any good.

Thinking of this, Fan Xian laughed out loud. Since God let him relive his life, he was going to treasure this opportunity. Neigong [2] was something good that did not exist in his world, and even if this nameless spiritual training method on zhenqi had been a bunch of nonsense, it didn’t stop him from starting to practice with it at the age of one.

It wasn’t far off from starting practice in the womb, and you couldn’t get any earlier than that

No one born in this world, not even the masters worshipped by the people, not even if they were geniuses, could be on the same level as Fan Xian, who started zhenqi training at such young age.

What was it called? This is the early birds getting the worms; this is stupid birds flying first.

In any case, surely he would not be as stupid as kids who got their first glimpse at martial arts, right?

While Fan Xian was thinking about this, he could already feel the zhenqi flowing. It slowly circulated the lines of the drawings in the book, and flowed into his body. This was an extremely soothing sensation, as if warm water was cleansing every inch of his body and organs.

Gradually, Fan Xian fell into meditative state and comfortably slept on his bed.

[1] Essential qi

[2] Exercises to benefit the internal organs; the art of building up one’s strength through breathing and other exercises of the internal organs