The Innocent Heart - Chapter 1

The spring of the fifth year of Yuanguang saw warm afternoon sunshine spill over the streets of Chang’an. Sitting by the roadside, a small beggar, filthy and disheveled, stared blankly at the throngs of people coming and going.

Such a sight was commonplace in Chang’an, the capital of the great Han Dynasty at the time, and therefore failed to catch anyone’s attention.

A broken bowl lay before him, empty, but it was perhaps the cleanest spot near Guan Yueyao himself.

“So hungry…” Guan Yueyao covered his stomach, his eyes glazed over, while the aroma of food wafted through the air. He sniffed, imagining that he was eagerly swallowing a bowl of piping hot tangbing (soup noodles or flatbread in broth).

In reality, he had never known what those hot tangbing tasted like.

He had been sitting near this tangbing stall for several days. He only learned the name of the food from the calls the stall owner used to greet customers.

“Please wait a moment, honored guest! Hot tangbing will be right up!” The stall owner’s enthusiastic and eager voice again reached Guan Yueyao’s ears; this tangbing shop certainly did good business.

If only I had one copper coin, I could buy a bowl of hot noodle soup, Guan Yueyao thought, memories of countless delicacies flashing through his mind: fried chicken, milk tea, all sorts of snacks—the junk food adults condemned. Even the instant noodles he had once tired of now seemed like a delicacy he could never have again.

Wiping the drool that nearly ran from his mouth, Guan Yueyao finally stood up. He had spotted his target for the day.

It was a child, who, judging by his attire, must have been from a wealthy family, yet he had no attendants with him.

Guan Yueyao smiled. There couldn’t be an easier target than this.

He had been in this era for some time and had long learned to roughly assess from the clothing of passersby whether or not he could successfully pilfer money from them.

He rose and quietly trailed behind the child, waiting for a less crowded area before snatching the bulging purse tied to the child’s waist.

He wasn’t a good person; before he transmigrated, he had been something of a local hoodlum leader near his school. As a junior high student, he’d had the nerve to demand protection money from high schoolers in the vicinity.

Of course, this was all thanks to the martial arts his father had taught him back in his home country.

The thought of that man brought a sudden surge of unbidden nausea to Guan Yueyao’s stomach. If that man hadn’t cheated and fallen for another woman, how could his mother have been so heartbroken as to take him and flee to a foreign country?

In Japan, to avoid being bullied, he had to become an even worse bully himself. Relying on his martial arts foundation, he fought his way up in school and among the surrounding gangs, earning a reputation for his reckless courage.

Before he knew it, he had become the leader of a delinquent gang. When he finally realized it, seeing the painful look in his mother’s eyes and the fear in those around him, he understood that he couldn’t go back.

He couldn’t return to his carefree childhood self. Yet, during a fight with another gang, he was struck in the head and passed out. When he awoke, he was in this strange, ancient place.

His recollections halted here. He had followed the child into a secluded alleyway.

“Who are you? Why are you following me? Did the Chen family send you?” The child suddenly spun around, glaring at Guan Yueyao and demanding an answer.

The spirit was there, but the tone, with its uniquely childish lilt, only made Guan Yueyao want to laugh. “Hand over your money bag, or I’ll beat you until you cry!”

Ignoring the child’s question, he took two steps forward, closing the distance, and flashed the menacing, savage expression he used when robbing people, threatening him.

But the reply was neither a tearful plea nor an angry, blustering retort. Instead, it was a fist whistling through the air.

“Hey, you little brat, are you trying to die?!” Guan Yueyao easily dodged the child’s sneak attack and snapped back in annoyance. Then, he used the same method he once employed to intimidate high schoolers: he stretched out his hand and shoved the child toward the wall behind him.

A ruffian’s sneer appeared on his face as he stretched his muscles, ready to teach this kid a good lesson.

Suddenly, Guan Yueyao felt a sharp pain in his leg. He looked down and saw that the child had lifted his leg and kicked him.

Guan Yueyao was further enraged by the child’s presumptuous action, and the two quickly began to wrestle. He had expected an easy mark, but instead, he had run into a tough opponent.

Though young, the child appeared to have some basic martial arts training. Guan Yueyao gritted his teeth. Am I going to be beaten by a kid who hasn’t even entered junior high? How can I remain a gang leader after that?!

“It’s mine!” Ultimately, the younger child was at a slight disadvantage and was knocked to the ground. Guan Yueyao wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth and, gloating, snatched the purse from the child’s waist. He opened it and weighed it in his hand.

Whoa, that’s a good amount of money. Enough to last him a while.

“Thanks, kid. I’ll come find you again when I run out of money,” Guan Yueyao said, kicking the child who was still sitting on the ground, his tone full of bravado.

“You’re really not one of the Chen family sent to trouble me?” To his surprise, the child didn’t look angry; he merely asked.

“What Chen family? My name is Guan, not Chen.” Guan Yueyao glanced at the child, bewildered, but paid no mind to his words.

“You’ve got decent skill. Will you dare to fight me again tomorrow, right here? If you win, the money I have on me tomorrow is still yours.” Suddenly, the child pushed himself up with his palms, looked at Guan Yueyao stubbornly, and challenged him.

Something this good? Guan Yueyao turned and sized the child up. He’d subdued plenty of challenging delinquents before—recruiting younger followers? He was an expert at that.

“Sure, name a time. I’ll wait for you here,” Guan Yueyao agreed casually, not giving it a second thought.

“The same time, then. Whoever breaks the agreement is a puppy!” The child added, perhaps sensing Guan Yueyao’s indifferent acceptance.

“Hmph, ‘a puppy.’ If I don’t show up, I’m your grandson!” Guan Yueyao looked at the child with contempt, seemingly mocking his childishness.

The child was stunned by his words, apparently not having considered that if the other party broke the promise, he would suddenly have a grandson who looked older than him.

Guan Yueyao, however, had no time to spare for him. He’d been hungry all day, and it was time to eat.

Having eaten his fill, the sky gradually darkened. Guan Yueyao pulled his tattered clothes tighter, touched the still-warm noodle soup at the corner of his mouth, and walked toward his dwelling.

It wasn’t really a dwelling, just a ruined wall that barely shielded him from the wind and rain, and a half-roof overhang.

Guan Yueyao lay down on the pile of straw. Fortunately, the weather had recently turned warmer, and so long as it didn’t rain, it was a tolerable place to stay.

Things weren’t so bad now, he thought. At least he didn’t have to face his mother’s boyfriend.

Will anyone in that world be sad if I died? Guan Yueyao wondered. Probably no one except his mother and his grandparents back home.

His mother’s Japanese boyfriend considered him a burden and wanted his mother to send him back to China. His mother had fought with the Japanese man countless times over this.

But go back to China? To face that disgusting man’s new family?

He turned and spat heavily onto the dirt ground. He’d rather live on the streets than face that nauseating family.

Guan Yueyao thought bitterly. He rolled over, curled up, and closed his eyes, falling asleep quickly thanks to the warmth from the meal.

In his dream, he was back in the third grade of elementary school. His father was still a tall, imposing figure in his mind.

Every day, he practiced sword movements with his father, and he was happy to practice a single move a hundred times, as long as he earned his father’s praise.

Because his father said he was a natural martial arts talent, his pride, and that he would achieve his father’s unfulfilled dream of becoming a national martial arts champion.

He still remembered the smile on his father’s face the first time he competed in the city’s junior martial arts competition and won his first gold medal, as his father excitedly picked him up and hoisted him over his head.

He also remembered his mother standing nearby, her face full of blissful smiles. His mother was so young and beautiful then, not the haggard, tear-stained image he saw more often later.

He knew his mother didn’t genuinely like that coarse Japanese man; it was simply that life was too hard for a single woman with a child in a foreign country.

In his heart, he actually agreed with the man’s assessment: he was a burden. His mother could have had a better life, but because of him, she had to stoop to being with a man like that piece of trash.

Perhaps if I just disappeared, my mother could live a more relaxed life…

The beautiful dream abruptly ended. Guan Yueyao opened her eyes. The sky was still dark, the moon hung high, and stars twinkled in the clear night.

Someone who has experienced a good life will not truly be content to wallow in the mud. Guan Yueyao lost her sleep. Those memories she only dared to recall when alone in the deep night surged into her mind one by one.

But in this vast world, where was a place for her to belong? To survive in this strange, ancient era, she had to disguise herself as a boy. Only then could she avoid unnecessary harassment.

She also had to project the fierce look she used in school, like a defensive hedgehog, using violence to ward off all threats around her.

Thinking this, she gave a self-mocking smile. In the end, even the very skills that kept her alive were given to her by that man.

He had made her, and he had destroyed her. That warm home had crumbled in an instant because of his betrayal, leaving a scar on her young heart that she might never forget.

“Mom… I want to go home…” Two lines of tears ran down her face. The aggressive pretense she wore during the day was gently peeled away by the moonlight, and the girl quietly sobbed.

Across a thousand years, her mother could not hear her cries. In the silent night, the only response was the faint, distant sound of the night watchman’s clapper.

The night was long, but some were destined to find no sleep, having to endure the endless night alone until the break of dawn…