A pang of homesickness struck him. He thought of his parents. They’d divorced and started new families, but they’d always been good to him, never skimping on support. They’d even pooled their money to buy him an apartment after he graduated.
Life alone had been comfortable. Lonely at times, but mostly just free.
To dwell on it any longer would only bring tears.
Shen Wei pushed the thoughts away and stood, taking stock of his new body.
He was tall, about 1.8 meters, but the frame was frail. A long, jagged scar snaked from his left shoulder down to his abdomen, a souvenir from some long-ago battlefield.
That war had nearly claimed him. Had it not been for a stroke of luck, he never would have made it home.
Though he’d survived, the body had paid a steep price.
It was manageable in his youth, but age was catching up. A dull, persistent ache had settled deep in his shoulder.
Frowning at the disfigured skin, Shen Wei pulled on a simple blue cloth shirt, matching trousers, and a pair of canvas shoes. He scrubbed his face with both hands, the motion rough and vigorous.
“I have to face it, whether I want to or not,” he muttered to the empty room. “I can't let the persona slip. I am Shen Wei. Shen Wei is me.”
The original owner of this body hadn't been one for idle chatter, and in that, at least, they were similar.
But as a modern man, many of Shen Wei’s habits were bound to be different from the original’s.
He could only dredge up the memories of the man he now was, trying his best to mimic the stoic persona his family expected.
When he stepped out of the room, he found the entire family already seated at two long wooden tables in the main hall.
The sight of them all made him falter mid-stride.
The man's wife had been truly prolific, having borne him five children.
The eldest son, Shen Bowen, was twenty. He was a burly young man who had practiced martial arts with his father. While not a true Martial Artist, he possessed considerable strength. He had married Ms. Wang from the neighboring Wang Family Village at fifteen and in five years had produced a grandson, now just over three, and a granddaughter barely a hundred days old.
The second son, Shen Mingzhi, was eighteen. He took after his mother, with a slimmer build that stood a head shorter than his brother’s at 1.7 meters. He was a reserved boy who rarely spoke. He too had married at fifteen, to a girl from the Li family of Li Family Village, and had a son of his own last year.
The third child was a daughter, Shen Yunyan, now sixteen, who had been married for just over a year.
The fourth, Shen Minghao, was a fourteen-year-old boy apprenticing at a blacksmith’s shop in the county town and wasn't home.
The youngest daughter, Shen Yunxue, was only ten. She had inherited her mother’s good looks, with bright eyes and pearly teeth. She was the apple of her mother's eye, doted on and pampered since she was a baby.
A headache began to throb in Shen Wei’s temples. Back in his old life, he only had to feed himself. Now, even with one daughter married off, there were ten mouths to feed in this house. The thought alone made his scalp tingle.
To make matters worse, the family was far from wealthy. They owned only twenty acres of land, and recent harvests had been poor, stretching their food stores dangerously thin.
As Shen Wei appeared, a chorus of greetings rose from the tables.
He was at a loss for words, managing only a stiff nod before walking past them to the well in the courtyard to wash his face.
Staring at his reflection in the basin of water, the urge to cry returned.
This wasn't thirty-eight. Even forty-eight would be a stretch.
The face staring back was weathered and dark, the skin coarse. A messy beard framed his mouth, and streaks of white frosted his temples.
I used to be handsome, he lamented internally.
Pursing his lips, Shen Wei tied back his long hair and let his gaze drift over the courtyard.
This house had belonged to the original owner’s family, rebuilt when he had married. It started as just three tiled rooms, but as the children came, more had been added on. The main building held a bedroom, the hall, and a kitchen. Four rooms flanked it on either side, their doors opening into the courtyard. In the southeast corner stood a barn, housing a large yellow ox.
The family hadn't always been so poor. The man whose life he’d inherited had been a soldier, respected as a capable man throughout the surrounding villages. His wife, from the Lu family, was the daughter of a Scholar and had brought a respectable dowry with her.
But as the family grew, so did the expenses, and their comfortable life had slowly eroded.
Still, they weren't completely destitute. Shen Wei recalled a memory of a cashbox, tucked away with a small stash of silver for emergencies.
The thought of that silver eased some of the tension in his chest.
The idea of supporting such a large family was daunting.
Having a little money in reserve gave him a sliver of confidence.
The thought of leaving them all behind had crossed his mind, but he dismissed it just as quickly.
As poor as this household was, it was a foothold, a place to belong.
If he left, how would he even survive in this world? The original’s memories confirmed this wasn't any dynasty he recognized from history; it was an entirely different world.
A feudal society was a difficult place to be alone.
So, he reasoned, it was better to stay. At least here he had a family to rely on.
Well, he mused, a house full of children and grandchildren wasn’t entirely a bad thing.
After washing up, Shen Wei returned to the hall and took his place at the head of the tables.
The meal was laid out on the two joined wooden surfaces, the men seated on the inner side, the women and children on the outer. It consisted of a thin, mixed-grain porridge and dry corn cakes. The only other dishes were a small bowl of salted vegetables and a soup made from wild greens. There wasn’t a drop of oil in sight.
The meal had been prepared by his eldest daughter-in-law, Ms. Wang. She was a plump woman; from tasting her own cooking a little too often, he supposed.
Everyone waited, their eyes fixed on him. Shen Wei composed his face into a stern mask, mimicking the gruff tone he remembered. “Eat.”
He was the patriarch; no one could touch their food until he gave the word.
This feudal society was full of rules.
Then again, he thought, being the grandfather wasn't so bad. His sons did the farmwork, his daughters-in-law handled the chores, and as head of the household, his authority was absolute.
The food, however, was nearly inedible. But Shen Wei was genuinely hungry, and he had to eat. Besides, they only had two meals a day. If he skipped this one, he’d have to wait until evening.
He managed to choke down a bowl of the porridge, which at least quieted the gnawing in his stomach, but he couldn’t face anything more.
The corn cakes were another matter entirely. They were coarse and dry, scratching his throat with every swallow. Even washing a bite down with the bland vegetable soup was an ordeal.
He took one bite of a cake and set it back down.
“Grandpa, have my porridge!” His eldest grandson, Shen Chengye, saw him stop eating and pushed his own small bowl forward.
Shen Wei looked at the child, his expression complex. The boy was only three, yet he already knew the importance of filial piety. I feel… I feel…
Get away from me, you're not my grandson!
“Grandpa isn't hungry.” He reached out, his voice softer than he intended, and ruffled the boy's hair. “You eat, Chengye.” He couldn't bring himself to resent the child, no matter how much he wanted to reject this life.
A wave of despair washed over him. “Finish your meal, then go work the fields,” he said, his voice flat. “I'm going to rest for a while.”
With that, he rose and walked back to his room.
“What's wrong with Dad?” the second son, Shen Mingzhi, murmured, watching his father's retreating back.
Though Shen Wei had tried to mimic the man's every mannerism, his children could still sense that something was different today.
“Maybe he's thinking about Mom,” the eldest son, Shen Bowen, suggested, recalling how he’d found their father earlier.
At the mention of their mother, a somber quiet fell over the family.