The sun was rising over Qingshi Village, but inside the Liu household, it was anything but warm.
"Get up, you useless thing! Do you want to sleep until the sun sets?"
A sharp, shrill voice cut through the courtyard as Madam Wang, the mistress of the Liu family, slammed a wooden basin onto the floor. Her face twisted in disgust as her gaze fell upon the thin figure kneeling by the chicken coop. The boy's hands were red and chapped, trembling slightly as he sprinkled feed.
This boy was Liu Ziyu, the ger son of the Liu family.
Born with delicate features—long lashes, pale skin, and a fragile frame—he was the kind of beauty that would turn heads. But in the Liu household, beauty was worth less than a sack of grain.
His birth mother had died early. The woman who raised him, Madam Wang, was a stepmother through and through. Sweet to her own children, sour and venomous toward him.
"Mother, don't be so fierce," a young girl said in a soft voice. It was Madam Wang's daughter, Liu Fanghua. Pretty and gentle at first glance, she hid malice behind her words. "If brother Ziyu gets too tired and falls sick, who will do the chores? You'll be the one troubled."
The words sounded concerned, but her eyes sparkled with mockery.
Madam Wang snorted. "This sickly thing? If he can't work, he can still be married off! Hmph, at least he has a face worth some silver."
Liu Ziyu kept his head bowed, lips pressed together. He didn't argue. He never argued.
From the corner of the courtyard, his father, Liu Dalang, stood silently. He puffed on his dry tobacco pipe, looking anywhere but at his kneeling son. He had always been this way—silent when Ziyu was scolded, silent when Ziyu was beaten, silent when Madam Wang sneered. To him, Ziyu was a burden, a child too much trouble to protect.
The sound of laughter carried from inside the house. Madam Wang's sons, Liu Hong and Liu Sheng, were already eating breakfast. Ziyu's share was a single steamed bun, small and hard. He glanced at it once, then tucked it into his sleeve for later.
In the Liu household, every day was the same. Work until your bones ached. Endure the insults. Swallow the hunger.
But today was different.
Today was the day Liu Ziyu was to be married.
Not out of love, not out of kindness—but because Madam Wang had schemed it so.
The groom was a hunter from the neighboring mountains. His name was Shen Li, a man of few words, with a reputation for being cold and solitary. His family was said to be harsh and demanding, forcing him to take a spouse whether he wanted to or not. Madam Wang, eager to rid herself of the useless ger while gaining favors, had pushed Ziyu into this match.
The wedding would be held that very night.
Modern World
Far away, in a world of flashing lights and speeding cars, another boy was rushing down a crowded street.
His name was Xu Ming.
At twenty-one, Xu Ming was a university student in the city. His life was ordinary—classes, part-time jobs, gaming late at night, scrolling on his phone until morning. Ordinary, but not easy. His family wasn't wealthy, so he worked shifts at a convenience store, delivered food, and barely scraped by on scholarships.
That evening, he was hurrying, clutching a paper bag of takeout. He had an online exam in less than an hour, and if he didn't make it home in time, he'd fail.
"Shit, why is the bus always late when I need it?" Xu Ming muttered under his breath. He dashed across the crosswalk, heart pounding.
The light turned red.
He didn't see the car.
There was a screech of tires, a blaring horn, and then—impact.
Pain exploded through his body, white-hot and searing. He felt himself lifted, thrown, weightless for a moment. The world spun, then went black.
His last thought was bitter and fleeting: I can't even die peacefully, can I?
The Bridge Between Lives
In the darkness, Xu Ming's consciousness drifted. He felt no ground beneath him, no air, no time. Only an endless void.
Then—voices.
A woman's sharp, scolding tone. A man's indifferent silence. The faint sobs of someone too weak to resist.
The pain in his body was gone, replaced by a heavy weakness, as if he had been sick for years.
Slowly, Xu Ming opened his eyes.
Above him was a thatched roof, straw woven into uneven lines. The air smelled of smoke, dust, and something sour.
His fingers twitched, brushing against a rough quilt.
"Ah? He's awake?"
A girl's mocking voice reached his ears. Xu Ming blinked, vision still blurry, and saw a young woman with delicate features smirking down at him. Beside her stood a sharp-eyed older woman, arms crossed, lips curled in disdain.
"So what if you woke up?" the woman sneered. "Don't think you can escape today. Tonight, you'll marry into the Shen family whether you like it or not!"
Xu Ming's mind reeled. Marry? Shen family? What the hell…
He struggled to sit up, only to feel his body ache as if it weren't his own. When he caught sight of his hands, he froze.
Thin. Pale. Too delicate, with calluses that weren't his.
A cracked bronze mirror sat on the table nearby. Xu Ming turned his head, and the reflection staring back made his breath hitch.
Long lashes. Smooth, porcelain skin. A face beautiful enough to belong to a painting.
But it wasn't his face.
Xu Ming's heart thudded. This… this isn't me.
Before he could speak, Madam Wang slapped the table. "Don't just sit there like a fool! You should be grateful our family found you a husband at all. Otherwise, who would want a useless ger like you?"
The word struck him—ger.
Somewhere deep in his memory, Xu Ming recalled reading webnovels about ancient villages, men who could bear children, cruel families, cold hunters.
His stomach sank.
Don't tell me… I transmigrated into one of those stories?
Two Fates Entwined
That evening, the Liu household bustled with false cheer. Villagers gathered to gossip:
"Ah, Liu Ziyu is marrying the Shen family's hunter?""Pity that child, he's so frail. How will he survive in the mountains?""Well, at least the Liu family won't have to feed him anymore."
Xu Ming sat quietly, dressed in crimson wedding robes. The fabric was coarse, the color too bright, but it felt heavy on his shoulders. His head buzzed, but his heart was steadying.
The original Liu Ziyu had died, but Xu Ming was here now.
And if Heaven had given him this second life—then he would not live pitifully.
He clenched his fists beneath the sleeves.
Fine. If this world wants me to be a ger, then I'll live as one. But I won't be bullied. I won't be trampled. I'll carve out a life for myself—even if it means starting from nothing.
As the sky darkened, the sound of firecrackers exploded outside. The wedding procession had arrived.
Xu Ming's lips curved in a faint, determined smile.
"Alright then," he whispered to himself. "Let's see what kind of man this hunter is."