Chapter 1 – Having A Child Will Transfer the System

In the balmy third month of spring, sunlight slanted into a quiet courtyard. A tall ginkgo tree had sprouted new buds. A crow flapped its wings and flew off from a branch.

Beneath the ginkgo tree, a beauty lay on a lounger.

Pei Zhuo felt the harsh sunlight pierce through his eyelids. His fair, slender fingers came up to press against his brow, blocking out some of the glare. Had he forgotten to close the curtains before bed?

His eyelids were too heavy to lift. He tried to endure it, but the light was simply too bright—like he was lying under the open sky. The next second, he opened his eyes—and was met with a vast, clear blue sky. He sat up in a panic. Had someone stolen his ceiling?

Bang! The rocking chair lurched violently from his sudden movement. Caught off guard, he tumbled to the ground. The impact left him dizzy, and pain shot up his arm where his elbow struck the floor. He hissed through his teeth, climbing up while cradling his arm. 

Looking around, he saw a traditional wooden gate directly across from him. Gray brick walls enclosed a main house and two side rooms. It resembled a siheyuan, but the layout seemed even older. He had no idea what dynasty this was supposed to be. 

He picked up a strand of hair and stared at it for three seconds before shutting his eyes. He’d had short hair. But the lock in his hand reached down to his waist—smooth, black, and silky.

He pinched his thigh, hard. The pain cleared away all traces of sleep. His dark, sleep-dampened eyes widened in shock. He quickly stood and circled the main house. The furnishings were exquisite, but there wasn’t a single sign of modern life—not even a power line in sight.

Had he transmigrated?

Everything was still. Pei Zhu looked down at his clothes—they were the same white silk pajamas he’d worn to bed, chosen specially to mourn his recently deceased father. He rolled up a sleeve. On the pale underside of his arm, he could still see the faint mark left when he’d rolled off the bed and into a mosquito coil at age seven. 

It was definitely his body—just… a more ancient version of it. Hence the long hair?

Dressed like this, Pei Zhu didn’t dare open the main gate to see what the outside world looked like. He calmly sat back in the lounge chair and began analyzing the situation. From the furnishings alone, this looked like the home of a single adult male. He seemed to be the sole occupant. 

Heaven hadn’t treated him too badly—at least he owned property.

Pei Zhu slowly lay back down. No big deal. First, he needed to catch up on sleep. Ideally, when he woke up, he’d either be back home or be ready to move on to reincarnation.

After his father’s passing, he had kept vigil at the funeral home for three days, barely sleeping.

He was raised in a single-parent household by his father, Pei Qingxu, a dedicated math teacher and homeroom advisor. Even after being diagnosed with a terminal illness, Pei Qingxu insisted on staying to guide his final graduating class—he couldn’t trust anyone else with them.

Except the son he had raised.

Pei Zhu had pulled out a dusty teaching certificate from the drawer and stepped in for his father. From then on, he’d lived a life of waking at five, staying at school until ten, and then rushing to the hospital to stay by his father’s bedside. His class had everything—from “fledgling phoenixes” who wrote him love letters after breakups, to “crouching dragons” who couldn’t be woken by ten alarms and had to be dragged by him to the exam room. There were too many stories to count.

After sending off the senior class, and then his father, Pei Zhu had crammed a lifetime’s worth of exhaustion into six months. He was completely sleep-deprived.

His father had died never knowing that his son was actually a hardcore salted fish.

Pei Zhu had done everything he could—just so his father could pass without regrets, for his students or his son.

Beep, beep, beep.

Pei Zhu jolted upright as if from the grave, instinctively reaching for his phone. Whether it was school or the hospital, missing a message was out of the question.

Ow. He moved too fast—his hair got caught in the bamboo weave of the lounger, yanking at his scalp.

Beep beep, beep beep. The robotic beeping sounded again. Pei Zhu frowned, glancing around. Wait… had he not transmigrated after all? Was this not ancient times?

“System 4523 is loading—binding complete, initializing data… Host name: Pei Zhu. Age… Age…”

It got stuck.

“…”

Pei Zhu had confiscated a dozen student novels before—he was no stranger to transmigration clichés. Judging from how dumb this system sounded, he suspected it was one of those idiotic dating sim systems. He had no interest.

“Age 25,” he said helpfully.

Zzzzt! It sounded like the system’s CPU fried itself.

After a while, a weak, pitiful electronic voice rang in his head, full of helplessness, “Binding error.”

Pei Zhu waved his hand. “Then leave.”

“I can’t. How about… you be my host?” After a pause, 4523 rallied its courage. “I’m the Technology Tree System! My mission is to randomly select a lucky soon-to-be-born child and help them make history!”

But the moment it entered this world, Pei Zhu had also transmigrated. The system detected a perfect frequency match, and thanks to its glitchy programming, it had been forcibly bound to him.

Pei Zhu said, “I’m not interested.”

4523 fell silent for a long time—probably reviewing his file—then burst out in excitement. “You were the top science student in the country!” Such talent! Perfect for scientific development!

Pei Zhu lay back down. “Then you should know I did a combined bachelor’s-master’s in pure mathematics, right?”

Pure theory. All brain, no hands.

If 4523 had legs, it would probably be running circles around him right now. “I can help you rise from nothing to become a peerless genius!”

“…”

“Richer than nations!”

“…”

“With firearms in hand, the world is yours!”

“…”

“Can you stand a life without a phone?” 4523 asked, striking straight at the soul.

Pei Zhu’s eyelids lifted slightly. He responded with genuine delight, “That sounds wonderful.” No phone meant no anxious parents bombarding him with voice messages at 2 a.m.—

“Mr. Pei, are you asleep?”

“Has my son made any progress recently?”

“Mr. Pei, you were the top science scorer. My son doesn’t have to be as excellent as you—being 200 points lower is fine.”

Pei Zhu had scored over 700. Two hundred points less would still be 500+. The parent saying this had a child who scored 200 in the last mock exam. Who didn’t love a free consultation from a valedictorian? Every day, he’d wake up to 99 new messages.

4523 added, “Do you know how many people froze to death in ancient winters? How many died from heat in summer? Can you endure that?”

He couldn’t. His pajamas were thin. If it weren’t for the warm sunlight, he’d already be cold. But he was afraid that if he changed clothes, he might not be able to return.

A row of marks had been pressed into Pei Zhu’s pale forehead from the bamboo chair. He knocked his head lightly against it and fretted, “Just find a diligent chosen one to transfer to.”

That way, he could hitch a ride on the fast train of technological progress.

4523 was so anxious it was about to cry. “We can’t unbind! Wait! I’ve got it! If you have a child, I can transfer to your child!”

“So I need to get married first?”

“No no no! It can’t be someone else’s child—it has to be one you give birth to!!”

“I’ll try not to get cheated on.”

“What I mean is… you have to personally give birth.”

Pei Zhu began to question reality. “I’m a man.”

“I can grant you pregnancy permissions.”

“I’m straight.”

“Straight women can give birth—why can’t straight men?” 4523 froze again for a moment, likely checking his romantic history. “You’ve never liked any girls.”

“I don’t like any guys either.”

4523 dragged out its voice like a street vendor calling out for scrap metal. “Electricity… air-conditioning… TV… fridge… washing machine…”

Pei Zhu took a deep breath. “Let’s be realistic: a dragon gives birth to a dragon, a phoenix to a phoenix, a salted fish produces more salted fish. Don’t pin your hopes blindly on the next generation. I still think you should find a high-achiever or career-obsessed host.”

“You can balance your genes by pairing with a high-achiever!”

Pei Zhu squinted. “You’re acting strange.”

“What…?” 4523’s voice suddenly turned guilty.

“Clearly, convincing me to pursue a career makes more sense than pushing me to have a child. Yet you seem oddly fixated on the latter?”

4523 hesitated before giving in with a broken sigh. “It’s because I need to enter semi-hibernation for two to three years to fully load all my data.”

“So you’re useless for two years?”

“Not completely! I can still protect your safety. And I’ll protect your child’s safety in the future!”

4523 fidgeted. “I-I’m a child development companion system. With an adult host, I short-circuit. Power is precious—if it leaks, it’s gone for good.”

Pei Zhu, expressionless. “Wow. Who’d dare use a junk system like this?” His head started to hurt. “Forget it. I’ll sleep on it.”

He wavered. Compared to having a child, obviously focusing on a career was the simpler option. But this broken system kept hiding half the truth. Pei Zhu wanted to hold out a bit longer. Besides, he was still just too tired. His brain was a mess.

4523 sped up its speech. “You just take your time thinking it over. You can slowly pick the child’s father. I’ll go ahead and activate the permissions, okay?”

Before Pei Zhu could refuse, a faint current spread through his internal organs, then vanished without a trace.

“I said I’d think about it!” Pei Zhu froze in place, furious enough to curse heaven and earth. He hurriedly checked himself—no visible changes. He exhaled a long sigh of relief.

4523 said, sounding guilty, “Well, I’m leaking electricity right now. I was afraid that by the time you made up your mind, I wouldn’t have enough energy left to activate the permission. It won’t affect your thinking—really!”

Pei Zhu closed his eyes. What kind of decent man could learn he’s capable of getting pregnant and stay mentally unaffected? Of course it affected him.

4523 finally finished loading background data and began a theatrical narration. 

“This dynasty is called Great Xuan. The emperor’s surname is Xiao. He has four sons and five daughters. The legitimate eldest son, Xiao Xun, was named crown prince at birth—known for his kindness and integrity. The second prince, Xiao Fei, loves associating with people from all walks of life and is known for his deep cunning. The third prince, Xiao Zheng, is a master of warfare—he launched surprise attacks against Qiangxia and Nanjiang, winning great victories. The fourth prince is not yet seven—irrelevant.”

Pei Zhu frowned. What’s with this matchmaking tone? Why so eager? Is this really a technology tree system and not a dating sim system?

4523 continued with flair, “The court also boasts many talented young men. The prefect of Yujing handles over twenty cases a day, with a record for fair and swift judgments. Scholar Jiang annotated the entire 3,000-volume ‘Tiancheng Canon’ in just half a month. The assistant minister of Works conducted three years of fieldwork on the Jin River and designed a landmark irrigation system… The third prince, Scholar Jiang, the assistant minister, the Yujing prefect… all excellent candidates…”

Pei Zhu replied lazily, “Military men are rough. Civil officials are weak. None of their genes are good enough.”

“Nobody’s perfect!”

“Then they’re flawed. And flaws explode. I’m not wasting my time.”

4523 lost it. “At this rate, you’ll never find a match!”

Pei Zhu shrugged. “See? It’s not that I don’t want to—they’re the problem. I’m going back to sleep. And you, be careful not to shock me.”

***

In the royal hunting grounds on the outskirts of the capital.

Sunlight streamed down gently as a cool breeze passed. The third prince, Xiao Zheng, galloped up to the crown prince ahead of him.

“Brother! Brother! It’s all thanks to that map of Nanjiang you gave me. Otherwise, who knows how long it would’ve taken!”

The crown prince was a man of refined beauty, with eyes like brilliant stars. He carried the dignified, noble bearing of a born heir.

Xiao Xun nodded slightly. “I drew it on a whim during my travels years ago. I don’t know how much has changed in six years.”

Xiao Zheng replied, “Not much!” His brother had only toured the region for half a month, yet managed to sketch an entire territorial map. Many of the details could only be noted by penetrating deep into enemy fortresses. This campaign had been like following a manual—effortless.

He was thrilled. Upon returning, the emperor had rewarded him generously. No one knew that the biggest credit actually belonged to the crown prince’s map.

Xiao Zheng looked at the man riding beside him. “Scholar Jiang, I’m sure you feel the same.”

Jiang Chengshu forced a bitter smile. “Your Highness sees clearly.” The emperor had tasked him with annotating the pre-dynastic classic Tiancheng Canon. He had eagerly rolled up his sleeves, only to find the entire work already marked and commented on—with elegant prose that left nothing to add or revise.

Xiao Zheng raised an eyebrow. Long ago, when he was still fighting dogs for food, his brother had already been making notes on the Tiancheng Canon.

Suddenly, a deer flickered through the grass.

Xiao Zheng’s eyes sharpened. He raised his bow and loosed an arrow—but it missed by a hair. The startled deer fled into the forest. By the time he tried to nock another arrow, it was too late.

Whoosh! A second arrow whistled past his ear and struck the deer cleanly. It collapsed on the spot.

The third prince turned his head and saw the crown prince leisurely letting his horse amble along. The fire-red arrows in his quiver were still neatly arranged—none missing. He glanced at his own quiver, which swayed as the horse moved—two arrows were gone.

A eunuch in the hunting grounds picked up the fallen prey, recognized the markings on the arrow fletching, and loudly called out in celebration, “Third Prince has hunted a stag!”

“Third Prince has hunted a stag!”

“Third Prince takes first merit in the spring hunt—just like His Majesty in his youth!”

“His Majesty will surely reward him!”

The third prince was left speechless.

Fine, shoot a deer if you must, but please stop killing people with my arrows.

“Go claim your reward. I have other matters to attend to—I’ve already reported to Father. I’ll go on ahead,” Xiao Xun said, turning his horse toward the forest’s edge and riding off.

Once again, the third price was left speechless. It really felt like being handed a single candied hawthorn skewer and told, “Don’t follow me.”

Everyone praised the crown prince for being benevolent and filial, but he even dared to sneak away from the imperial spring hunt!

Xiao Xun’s top-ranked guard, Li Ruyi, quickly spurred his horse to catch up. It was obvious His Highness had little interest in the hunt—he’d rather return and deal with state affairs.

Since the dawn of time, no crown prince had been more dutiful. He was wholly devoted to governance, self-disciplined, reverent of tradition. The pleasures of the youth from noble families—wine, women, music, hunting—he avoided completely.

Whenever Li Ruyi thought of the never-ending memorials piling up in the Eastern Palace, his head would spin. After some thought, he suggested, “Your Highness, the commander of Qiangui recently presented a remarkable individual. Perhaps you’d like to stop by and take a look?”

Most Great Xuan officials rose through the imperial exam system, but the crown prince valued practicality. Those with talent in agriculture, irrigation, engineering, or mathematics could be promoted regardless of background—this had become a shortcut for true talents to reach the Eastern Palace. Yet many officials claimed to be recommending talent, only to covertly send beautiful people to seduce the crown prince—women if they could, men if not. They thought surely such a handsome man, unmarried and without a single concubine, wasn’t truly ascetic—just too discerning. If they found someone stunning enough, he’d surely make an exception. To that end, officials even gifted an entire “cottage for special talent,” under the guise of “not mistreating genius.” Since the prince wasn’t married and couldn’t officially take concubines, they arranged it all quietly.

Having seen too many such schemes, Li Ruyi had taken on the task of screening the real from the fake. If someone truly had ability, then and only then would he present them to the prince. “This one is skilled in making hidden weapons,” he said. “His mechanisms are so precise they could be used in warfare.”

The two arrived outside the side residence. Xiao Xun stared at the tightly shut doors without comment.

“I’ve seen one of the weapons—called a Pear Blossom Needle. It can pierce bone from a hundred steps away,” Li Ruyi said, motioning for the prince to stand to the side in case any traps were triggered when the door opened.

He pulled out a key from his waist and unlocked the door.

“Your Highness, this man has real skill. That Pear Blossom Needle—” Li Ruyi was vouching with full confidence when he suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

In the middle of the courtyard lay a man sprawled on a lounge chair, dressed in snowy white. His fair hand hung loosely over the side, his sleeping posture utterly unguarded, his breathing slow and steady. He looked like fallen pear blossoms scattered across the chair. He also looked like one of those long-haired white cats kept by palace nobility—lounging on the palace wall like a snowdrift about to melt, dazzlingly white under the sun.

Li Ruyi froze. Last time, he hadn’t seen the man’s face, only brought back a hidden weapon for study. The man had worn a veil, claiming it was a local custom of Qian tribes. But now… this felt suspiciously like another attempt at delivering a beauty.

This time, though, the man’s looks were genuinely breathtaking—ethereal, unmatched.

Instinctively, he turned to check the prince’s expression.

The crown prince’s face remained unchanged—no awe at the sight of beauty, no anger at being tricked.

Beep, beep, beep! 4523 urgently called out in Pei Zhu’s mind. Someone’s approaching!

Pei Zhu was once again rudely jolted awake mid-nap. He assumed 4523 was back to talking about those so-called “brilliant youths.” Whether it was the third prince, some scholar, or even the crown prince—it was still a no.

“Stop rushing me,” he grumbled. He stretched and sat up, squinting against the light, thinking of a line that would shut 4523 up once and for all. “I don’t want to have sex.”

“Warning, warning—!” The system buzzed with static, sounding like it was about to short-circuit. “I am a child development companion system. Please maintain appropriate boundaries!”

Pei Zhu fell silent.

So you can push for childbirth, but we can’t talk about sex? Really?

Outside, Xiao Xun calmly withdrew his gaze and asked Li Ruyi, “What did that mean?”

Li Ruyi jumped. “Your servant dares not speculate.” But his expression clearly read: The moral fabric of society is unraveling.