The Gu True Man

Rats, screw you

Bang, bang-bang, bang, bang-bang.

A patrolling night watchman tapped out a rhythmic beat on his wooden clapper.

The sound drifted into the stilted building, and Fang Yuan opened his dry eyelids, muttering to himself, “It’s the fifth watch of the night.”

He’d lain awake in bed for hours the night before, mapping out countless plans, and had slept no more than an hour or so. This body hadn’t yet begun cultivating, so its energy was meager—waves of exhaustion still clung to his mind and body. But five hundred years of experience had forged Fang Yuan’s will into something as steely and unyielding as iron. A little drowsiness was nothing to him. He threw off the thin silk quilt and rose neatly, without hesitation.

He pushed open the window. The spring rain had stopped. Fresh, moist air—laced with the scents of soil, trees, and wildflowers—rushed in. Fang Yuan felt his mind clear instantly, the muddle of sleep swept away. The sun hadn’t risen yet; the sky was a deep blue, teetering between darkness and light. Looking out, stilted buildings made of green bamboo and wood stood against the mountains, painting a scene of quiet, verdant serenity.

Stilted buildings had at least two floors, a distinctive structure for mountain dwellers. Because the mountains were rugged and uneven, the first floor was built on huge wooden stakes, while the second floor housed people. Fang Yuan and his younger brother, Fang Zheng, lived on the second floor.

“Master Fang Yuan, you’re awake. This servant will come upstairs to help you wash up at once.” At that moment, a girl’s voice drifted up from below.

Fang Yuan looked down. It was his personal maid, Shen Cui. Her looks were only average, but she dressed well: a green blouse, long sleeves and pants, embroidered shoes, and a pearl hairpin in her black hair. She exuded youthful vitality from head to toe.

She glanced up at Fang Yuan with a happy smile, carried a basin of water, and clattered up the stairs. The water was warm, for washing his face; for rinsing his mouth, she used willow twigs dipped in snow salt, which cleaned and whitened his teeth.

Shen Cui waited on him gently, her face lit up with a smile, her eyes and brows soft with affection. As she helped him fasten his clothes, she occasionally brushed her plump chest against his arm or back.

Fang Yuan’s expression remained blank, his heart as calm as still water. This maid was not only a spy for his uncle and aunt, but also vain and cold-hearted. In his previous life, he’d been fooled by her—after the Enlightenment Ceremony, when his status plummeted, she’d turned her back on him at once, shooting him countless cold glances.

When Fang Zheng arrived, he happened to see Shen Cui smoothing the folds of Fang Yuan’s chest. A flash of envy and jealousy flickered in his eyes.

He’d lived with his elder brother all these years, cared for by Fang Yuan, and he also had a servant. But it wasn’t a young maid like Shen Cui—just a plump old woman.

“If only Shen Cui could wait on me like that… what would it feel like?” Fang Zheng thought, half-daring to imagine it.

Everyone in the household knew his uncle and aunt favored Fang Yuan. He’d had no servant at all until Fang Yuan had asked for one on his behalf. Even with the difference in status between master and servant, Fang Zheng didn’t dare look down on Shen Cui—her mother was Aunt Shen, his aunt’s trusted steward, who held no small amount of power in the household.

“Enough, that’s fine.” Fang Yuan impatiently brushed aside Shen Cui’s soft little hand. His clothes were already neat; Shen Cui was doing little more than flirting.

To her, Fang Yuan’s future looked bright—he stood a good chance of having Grade A talent. If she could become his concubine, she would rise from servant to mistress, a leap from the mud to the clouds. In his previous life, Fang Yuan had been fooled by her, even growing fond of this maid. But after his rebirth, he saw through everything clearly, his heart as cold as frost.

“Leave.” Fang Yuan didn’t even look at her as he adjusted his cuffs.

Shen Cui pouted slightly, confused and wronged by his lack of interest today. She wanted to say something coquettish, but was intimidated by the****** aura he exuded. After opening her mouth several times, she finally said, “Yes,” and retreated obediently.

“Ready?” Fang Yuan turned to Fang Zheng.

His younger brother stood stupidly in the doorway, staring down at his toes, and mumbled a soft “yes.”

He’d actually woken at the fourth watch, too nervous to sleep, and had sneaked up early to get ready—dark circles ringed his eyes.

Fang Yuan nodded. He hadn’t understood his younger brother’s thoughts in his previous life, but how could he not see them clearly now? Yet there was no point in pointing it out. “Then let’s go,” he said flatly.

The two brothers left their residence, and along the way, they encountered many peers, in groups of two or three—clearly heading for the same destination.

“Look, it’s the Fang brothers.” Cautious whispers reached their ears.

“The one in front is Fang Yuan—the one who writes poetry,” someone emphasized.

“So that’s him. Expressionless and ignoring everyone, just as arrogant as the rumors say,” another said in a sour tone, tinged with envy and jealousy.

“Hmph, if you were half as good as him, you could be arrogant too!” someone**** in reply, his voice laced with resentment.

Fang Zheng listened expressionless. He’d long since grown used to such comments. He hung his head, following silently behind his brother.

By now, dawn light had seeped into the sky, and Fang Yuan’s shadow fell across his face. The morning sun was rising, but suddenly, Fang Zheng felt as if he were walking toward darkness. That darkness came from his brother—a shadow so large that he might never break free from it, not in this lifetime. A weight pressed on his chest, making it hard to breathe; this*** feeling even made him think of the word “suffocation.”

“Hmph, such talk—truly, a tree that stands out in the forest will be destroyed by the wind.” Fang Yuan**** to himself. No wonder, after he was found to have Grade C talent, enemies surrounded him on all sides, and he endured harsh treatment, cold stares, and indifference for a long time.

He also caught every sound of Fang Zheng’s increasingly heavy, labored breathing behind him. What he’d failed to notice in his previous life, he saw clearly now—all thanks to the sharp insight gained from five hundred years of life.

He suddenly thought of his uncle and aunt. They were quite cunning: assigning Shen Cui to spy on him closely, while giving Fang Zheng an old woman. There were other small disparities in their daily lives, all deliberate—meant to stir up resentment in Fang Zheng, to sow discord between the brothers.

People do not worry about scarcity, but about inequality. In his previous life, he’d been too inexperienced, and his brother too naive and innocent—easily manipulated by their uncle and aunt.

Since his rebirth, with the Enlightenment Ceremony drawing near, the situation seemed intractable. But with the cunning and wisdom of a demonic overlord, Fang Yuan could have turned it around. He could easily suppress and subdue his brother; as for Shen Cui, that little girl, he could have taken her into his harem long ago. He had at least a hundred ways to discipline his uncle, aunt, the clan leader, and the elders.

“But… I don’t want to,” Fang Yuan sighed softly to himself.

What if he was his own brother? Without affection, he was just a stranger—discarding him would be nothing. What if Shen Cui was beautiful? Without love or loyalty, she was just a body. Take her into his harem? She wasn’t worthy. What about his uncle, aunt, the clan leader, and elders? They were all passers-by in his life. Why go to great lengths, waste energy, to bother with such strangers?

Heh heh.

As long as they didn’t get in his way, they could go play with their own eggs for all he cared—he wouldn’t even bother to step on them.!!!