Chapter 4: A Slacker's Life

The lush green grass resembled a sprawling carpet, blanketing the entire hillside. Among the blades of grass, which stood five or six inches tall, tiny yellow flowers were scattered, bobbing their heads in rhythm with the breeze.

At the foot of the green hill, an ox was grazing leisurely, its head buried in the grass. Suddenly, an unexpected disturbance caused it to lift its head and turn toward the slope, its eyes filled with confusion.

*Is the little master up to his antics again?*

A seven or eight-year-old boy let out a cheerful shout, throwing himself into the embrace of Mother Earth and rolling all the way down from the top of the slope, which stood several meters high.

The flattened grass sprang back to life. Chen Ping halted his momentum, lying on the turf with his legs crossed, his right arm shielding his eyes from the slightly piercing sunlight.

Blue skies, white clouds, green hills, lush grass—and a carefree boy in the midst of it all.

Chen Ping burst into laughter. He tilted his head to lock eyes with the ox and urged, "It feels great, Old Huang! Don't you want to try it too?"

For an ox weighing over a thousand pounds, this was a life-threatening suggestion. The beast was not stupid; the tender grass just sprouting was far more delicious.

Though Chen Ping’s body was still that of a child, the soul of a twenty-something from his previous life had fully merged with it. In that past life, he had been an ordinary person—average in school and mediocre at work. He had graduated from a third-rate university, earned a meager salary, and worked himself to the bone for a dream of happiness, only to die suddenly from overwork.

They say life is too bitter and one should never return, yet Chen Ping had been reborn into the Great Yu Dynasty, a period absent from history books. After saving his father at the very start, his days had consisted of nothing more than herding cattle and playing.

The Chen family was not wealthy, but it was large. In the ancient era, before family planning, his father, Chen Duohai, had seven siblings. Two aunts were already married, leaving five brothers in the household. Chen Duohai was the fourth. With the patriarch still alive, the family had not yet split up; they all lived under one roof, subsisting on twenty or thirty acres of ancestral land.

In the memories Chen Ping had inherited, his childhood was quite happy. Life was modest, but there was no great pressure. The occasional desire to be a "slacker"—a thought that had surfaced in his past life—had been realized here. Regardless, being able to live again after death was something to be grateful for.

Lying on the grass, Chen Ping opened his eyes and scrambled up. It was nearly noon. He brushed the grass clippings from his clothes and blew a sharp whistle with his fingers pressed to his lips.

Hearing the whistle, Old Huang trotted toward him, then knelt down. Chen Ping climbed onto the ox’s back and gave it a small pat. "Let's go, Old Huang. Time to head home."

From a distance, thin wisps of smoke could already be seen rising from the chimneys of the Chen house, indicating that the various branches of the family were preparing lunch.

A small head poked out from the doorway, but upon seeing the approaching ox, it quickly ducked back inside. This was Chen Li, the eldest uncle’s daughter, two years older than Chen Ping. She had an older brother named Chen Jun.

Although the ox was gentle, it was not meant for everyone to ride. Chen Li had once tried, only to fall hard on her backside and burst into tears. Other children had tried as well, with predictable results. Throughout the entire Chen household, only Chen Ping had won the ox’s approval; it was incredibly obedient to him.

The other children playing nearby retreated when they saw the ox’s massive frame. Chen Ping hopped down, led Old Huang to the shed to tether him, and walked toward his family's kitchen. Although the family lived together, each branch managed its own meals.

Inside the kitchen, a young woman in a simple cloth dress was busy at the stove. Hearing footsteps at the door, she didn't turn around but said warmly, "Hungry? Go wash your hands; lunch will be ready in a moment."

Chen Ping murmured an acknowledgment, washed his hands, and sat down obediently. The kitchen was small, furnished with a little square table and two long benches.

His mother, Madame Xiang, set out the bowls and chopsticks. Lunch was simple: a thin rice porridge with barely a few grains, a small bowl of steamed pickled vegetables, and a few sweet potatoes. There was so little oil in the pickles that they looked parched.

*This family really is quite poor,* Chen Ping sighed inwardly.

Madame Xiang served herself a bowl of porridge and began to eat with the pickles. Seeing Chen Ping sitting there motionless, she said with a pained look, "Why are you daydreaming? Look at how thin you are; you need to eat more to grow."

Chen Ping quickly responded, "I know, Mother."

The family’s staples were essentially sweet potatoes and corn cakes. They rarely saw a drop of oil all year round, so it would be a miracle if he gained any weight. He looked at his mother, who was roughly the same age as he had been before his rebirth. To manage this household, she looked weary and pale; the beauty she once possessed had faded significantly, which touched a chord deep within Chen Ping.

Under his mother’s caring gaze, Chen Ping pretended to eat with gusto. Suddenly, he realized his father was missing and asked, "Mother, aren't we waiting for Father to return for lunch?"

Madame Xiang looked at her sensible son and explained, "Your father went to the neighboring village. He likely won't be back until this afternoon."

"What is he doing in the neighboring village?" Chen Ping asked curiously.

With the spring plowing season approaching, farming families spent almost every moment in the fields. Only by properly tending the land could they secure a harvest. There was usually no spare time to enjoy the spring scenery or visit neighbors, so it was clear something was up.

Sure enough, Madame Xiang replied, "You aren't a child anymore; you can't just spend your life guarding a few acres of land like us. Your father and I have been discussing it—we plan to send you to the scholar in the next village to learn a few characters."

Chen Ping felt like crying but had no tears.

In this season, the only person who could afford to be idle was Li Feng, who always wore a long scholar's gown. When Li Feng had passed the preliminary exam, it had been a grand affair; people from the surrounding villages had come to congratulate him, and he was held in high regard. Later, he lived up to expectations and passed the Xiucai exam, but his luck stopped there. After failing subsequent examinations, he grew disheartened.

Country folk were largely illiterate, but their desire to see their children succeed was universal. The agony of memorizing classical texts and poems from his previous school days still felt vivid; was he really going to endure the torment of the ancients all over again?

Chen Ping spent the entire afternoon in a daze. In this era, the social status of merchants was even lower than that of farmers. To climb the social ladder, it seemed the imperial examination was the only path.

His parents' expectations clashed with the "slacker" life he desired. Moreover, the family had no money for a formal private school, so they had compromised on hiring Li Feng. It seemed he would have to wait for his father to return to discuss it, but as the sun began to dip below the horizon, Chen Duohai was still nowhere to be seen.