Joy of Life - V1C17
Prologue: Nice Guys Finish Last
1- A Child of the Tanmai
2- The Truman Show
3- The Legacy Book
4- Studies and Ghost Stories
5- The Noctural Visitor
6- Master Wu Zhu
7- Master Fei Jie
8- One Year Later...
9- Grandmasters and Divine Temple
10- Overpowering Bàdào Zhenqi
11- The Sea Salt Merchant
12- Farewell for now, Master Fei Jie
13- Mail Order and Newspapers
14- It Hurts Like Hell!
15- Housekeeper Zhou
16- Ay-ya-ya-yaaa
17- The Three Goals
18- The Attempted Poisoning
19- The Assassin
20- Clean Up After Yourself!
Chapter 17
The Three Goals
Fan Xian stood up, feeling completely revitalized after his Zhenqi was restored and the pressure on his meridians eased significantly. Although his muscles, ankles, and wrists still ached, he intended to apply the medicine he had prepared as soon as he got home. This would help remove any wounds and marks on his skin within hours, which was necessary to ensure the servants wouldn’t notice and report them to his grandmother.
As he walked through the breeze that carried a hint of the ocean, Fan Xian made his way to Wu Zhu. If it weren't for the height difference, they would have stood side by side. Picking up a stone, he launched it toward the sea with all his strength. With Zhenqi flowing through him, his power far exceeded that of an average person. The rock soared far, and its splash was nearly indiscernible to the naked eye when it finally landed in the water.
Feeling a sense of pride, Fan Xian mused that not many master martial artists could match his arm strength. Taking in the majestic waves and the birds gliding overhead, the beauty around him lifted his spirits. He opened his arms wide and bellowed toward the sea, "Capital, I will come to you one day!"
Wu Zhu stood silently, seemingly oblivious to Fan Xian's words.
"What are you planning to do?" Wu Zhu finally asked, breaking his usual quiet demeanor.
Fan Xian paused, surprised that the usually stoic Wu Zhu was opening up. He smiled and replied, "I want to discover what the world is all about."
"The outside world can be perilous," Wu Zhu responded in his typical cold tone, without looking away.
Fan Xian shrugged his slender shoulders with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "With Uncle Wu Zhu by my side, what do I have to fear?"
“After her Ladyship’s death, I forgot some things.” There was a brief pause in Wu Zhu’s otherwise unchanging tone. “Few people in this world can harm me, and naturally, they can harm you too.”
“Uncle is so modest,” Fan Xian laughed sweetly, thinking, In this unfamiliar world, you are my only bodyguard and real family. If you ever decide to leave, what would I do?
“If I were with you in the capital, I would bring you trouble,” Wu Zhu stated matter-of-factly.
Fan Xian raised his head to meet Wu Zhu’s perpetually expressionless gaze. After a moment of contemplation, he replied, somewhat sheepishly, “I would protect you.”
Hearing this, Wu Zhu finally turned his attention to Fan Xian, looking at him intently. “Her Lady... said the same thing.”
Fan Xian couldn’t help but smile, realizing that a part of his unabashed nature undoubtedly came from his mother.
“Why do you want to explore this world?” Wu Zhu wondered. “Isn't where you stand right now part of it?”
Fan Xian found himself at a loss for words. Coming from another world made him inherently curious about many aspects of this one. Additionally, he was trying to find the answer to a question that had long troubled him: How did he arrive in this world?
A few years ago, Fei Jie mentioned the Divine Temple during a lesson in Danzhou. At that time, Fan Xian wondered, what else could cause a dead person to be reborn as a baby while retaining the same soul if not divine intervention? Since then, he had been eager to discover what was inside this temple.
He was excited to visit the capital. Unsure if RuoRuo could find happiness under her stepmother’s care, he wanted to check on her well-being. He also felt a strong desire to reconnect with Fei Jie, who had been away from Danzhou for several years. Just thinking about that quirky yet lovable old man brought a smile to his face. He thought the capital was a good place to start.
Most importantly, having spent so much time bedridden in his previous life, his current existence as a child in Danzhou felt like a stark contrast. This contrast stoked a fire in Fan Xian’s heart, energizing his hopes and motivating him to strive for something more.
Terms like peace and ambition, privilege and happiness, romance and beautiful women—these ideas seemed incompatible yet flashed through Fan Xian’s mind. After a thoughtful pause, he responded, “Since you only live once, the best way to make the most of this singular experience is to explore different places and meet a variety of people.”
Fan Xian held this belief close to his heart. In his former life, he often wondered how he would choose to spend his time if given a second chance.
“What do you intend to do?” Wu Zhu inquired.
"First, I need to secure my survival." Fan Xian knelt down to pick up another rock. This time, he didn’t apply much force, and the stone struck the gray rocks below, shattering upon impact. "That’s why I must acquire the means to protect myself."
"And then?"
"I have set three goals for myself."
Wu Zhu listened quietly.
"Firstly, I intend to have many, many children. Secondly, I want to write numerous books. And thirdly, I aspire to live a very, very pleasant life."
Fan Xian maintained an impressive calm as he shared these seemingly crazy ambitions, showing no sign of embarrassment. He truly believed that, as the only human from his previous world in this new realm, it was his duty to carry on humanity's legacy by bringing many children into the world and to enjoy every moment of the journey, of course.
Moreover, he felt a personal obligation to represent his old world. The cultural achievements of humanity, particularly in the arts, were absent in this world. If he didn’t duplicate countless texts and allow literary treasures like Cao Xueqin[i]’s work to thrive in this ignorant land, he would feel remorse for the isolated sages of this universe.
He planned to sell his writings for substantial silver taels to ensure a comfortable living, thereby granting him the freedom to lead a long, joyful life.
Ultimately, he imagined himself as an old man with gray hair on a picturesque estate, transcribing the books he had memorized from his former life and profiting from it, surrounded by a harem of beautiful women.
It would take many years before Fan Xian would acknowledge that these were merely justifications to rationalize his true desires—his perversion, shamelessness, and greed.
On the cliffs by the sea, Wu Zhu seemed to require some time to fully understand Fan Xian’s three goals, really. Calmly, he analyzed, “Then you need to have many wives and concubines, find many ‘bǐ tì’[ii], and hire many servants.”
“bǐ tì?” Fan Xian knew the term but was still unsure of its meaning here.
“Scholars in poverty who write manuscripts for other people. They have no rights to authorship.”
Fan Xian grinned. He had originally planned to have big names like Old Cao[iii] and Old Sha[iv] as his ghostwriters. He did not need ghostwriters, as Wu Zhu continued his overly simplistic analysis.
“If you intend to marry multiple wives and concubines, hire numerous servants, and indulge in ‘bǐ tì’, you must acquire considerable wealth. To generate significant money, you need substantial authority. The greater the authority you seek, the closer you need to be to the center of power in this nation.”
Wu Zhu turned decisively to leave, stating, “Once you turn sixteen, we’re heading back to the capital.”
Fan Xian stood still behind him, staring absently. He had simply shared some of his reasonable thoughts, yet this emotionally uncle interpreted them as a power play. Moreover, Wu Zhu had unilaterally decided when they would return to the capital. Fan Xian recalled how Wu Zhu had carried him away on his back the day he was born during their escape from the capital.
Unsure whether to laugh or cry at his predicament, Fan Xian slapped his own face to snap out of his daze. He hurried after Wu Zhu and said, “Uncle, I’ve shared my feelings; shouldn’t you give me a reward?”
“What do you want to know?”
“My mother—why were people pursuing us in the capital?”
“I will reveal everything about her Ladyship when you turn sixteen, as that was her final wish. As for those who pursued us, there’s no need for you to worry; they all perished eight years ago.”
When they returned to Danzhou, it was already noon. Fan Xian distanced himself from Wu Zhu and entered the city alone. The locals had become accustomed to seeing this young master wandering about by himself. Although there were no wild animals or hazardous areas nearby, people felt the Count’s villa was rather negligent concerning the safety of this illegitimate son.
After all, to them, Fan Xian was just a twelve-year-old boy.
With this thought in mind, they watched the strikingly handsome boy stride confidently through the city, his presence exuding self-assurance that made their hearts flutter with excitement.
Fan Xian, with his tousled dark hair glinting in the sunlight and a charming smile playing on his lips, remained blissfully unaware of the admiration and curious whispers surrounding him. He subtly lowered his head, his expression a mix of humility and quiet confidence, before turning on his heel and making his way back to the opulent Count’s villa, its grand architecture looming behind him like a silent guardian of his allure.
[i] Cao Xueqin (4 April 1710 – 10 June 1765) was a Chinese novelist and poet during the Qing dynasty. He is best known as the author of Dream of the Red Chamber, one of the Four Great Classical Novels of Chinese literature. His given name was Cao Zhan (曹霑), and his courtesy name was Mengruan.
[ii] Bǐ tì (笔替 / 筆替) refers to a ghostwriter or a substitute calligrapher, typically described as being poorly paid. It implies someone who does the writing or calligraphy work on behalf of another person, often for low compensation.
[iii] Cao Cao (曹操; c. 155 – 15 March 220), courtesy name Mengde, was a Chinese statesman, warlord, and poet.
[iv] Yi Sha 伊沙 吴文健 Yi Sha is the pen name of Wu Wenjian. Born in Chengdu, Sichuan province, in 1966, he is a prolific writer. He has produced over twenty collections of poetry, fiction, and non-fiction prose, including several volumes of criticism.
As he walked through the breeze that carried a hint of the ocean, Fan Xian made his way to Wu Zhu. If it weren't for the height difference, they would have stood side by side. Picking up a stone, he launched it toward the sea with all his strength. With Zhenqi flowing through him, his power far exceeded that of an average person. The rock soared far, and its splash was nearly indiscernible to the naked eye when it finally landed in the water.
Feeling a sense of pride, Fan Xian mused that not many master martial artists could match his arm strength. Taking in the majestic waves and the birds gliding overhead, the beauty around him lifted his spirits. He opened his arms wide and bellowed toward the sea, "Capital, I will come to you one day!"
Wu Zhu stood silently, seemingly oblivious to Fan Xian's words.
"What are you planning to do?" Wu Zhu finally asked, breaking his usual quiet demeanor.
Fan Xian paused, surprised that the usually stoic Wu Zhu was opening up. He smiled and replied, "I want to discover what the world is all about."
"The outside world can be perilous," Wu Zhu responded in his typical cold tone, without looking away.
Fan Xian shrugged his slender shoulders with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "With Uncle Wu Zhu by my side, what do I have to fear?"
“After her Ladyship’s death, I forgot some things.” There was a brief pause in Wu Zhu’s otherwise unchanging tone. “Few people in this world can harm me, and naturally, they can harm you too.”
“Uncle is so modest,” Fan Xian laughed sweetly, thinking, In this unfamiliar world, you are my only bodyguard and real family. If you ever decide to leave, what would I do?
“If I were with you in the capital, I would bring you trouble,” Wu Zhu stated matter-of-factly.
Fan Xian raised his head to meet Wu Zhu’s perpetually expressionless gaze. After a moment of contemplation, he replied, somewhat sheepishly, “I would protect you.”
Hearing this, Wu Zhu finally turned his attention to Fan Xian, looking at him intently. “Her Lady... said the same thing.”
Fan Xian couldn’t help but smile, realizing that a part of his unabashed nature undoubtedly came from his mother.
“Why do you want to explore this world?” Wu Zhu wondered. “Isn't where you stand right now part of it?”
Fan Xian found himself at a loss for words. Coming from another world made him inherently curious about many aspects of this one. Additionally, he was trying to find the answer to a question that had long troubled him: How did he arrive in this world?
A few years ago, Fei Jie mentioned the Divine Temple during a lesson in Danzhou. At that time, Fan Xian wondered, what else could cause a dead person to be reborn as a baby while retaining the same soul if not divine intervention? Since then, he had been eager to discover what was inside this temple.
He was excited to visit the capital. Unsure if RuoRuo could find happiness under her stepmother’s care, he wanted to check on her well-being. He also felt a strong desire to reconnect with Fei Jie, who had been away from Danzhou for several years. Just thinking about that quirky yet lovable old man brought a smile to his face. He thought the capital was a good place to start.
Most importantly, having spent so much time bedridden in his previous life, his current existence as a child in Danzhou felt like a stark contrast. This contrast stoked a fire in Fan Xian’s heart, energizing his hopes and motivating him to strive for something more.
Terms like peace and ambition, privilege and happiness, romance and beautiful women—these ideas seemed incompatible yet flashed through Fan Xian’s mind. After a thoughtful pause, he responded, “Since you only live once, the best way to make the most of this singular experience is to explore different places and meet a variety of people.”
Fan Xian held this belief close to his heart. In his former life, he often wondered how he would choose to spend his time if given a second chance.
“What do you intend to do?” Wu Zhu inquired.
"First, I need to secure my survival." Fan Xian knelt down to pick up another rock. This time, he didn’t apply much force, and the stone struck the gray rocks below, shattering upon impact. "That’s why I must acquire the means to protect myself."
"And then?"
"I have set three goals for myself."
Wu Zhu listened quietly.
"Firstly, I intend to have many, many children. Secondly, I want to write numerous books. And thirdly, I aspire to live a very, very pleasant life."
Fan Xian maintained an impressive calm as he shared these seemingly crazy ambitions, showing no sign of embarrassment. He truly believed that, as the only human from his previous world in this new realm, it was his duty to carry on humanity's legacy by bringing many children into the world and to enjoy every moment of the journey, of course.
Moreover, he felt a personal obligation to represent his old world. The cultural achievements of humanity, particularly in the arts, were absent in this world. If he didn’t duplicate countless texts and allow literary treasures like Cao Xueqin[i]’s work to thrive in this ignorant land, he would feel remorse for the isolated sages of this universe.
He planned to sell his writings for substantial silver taels to ensure a comfortable living, thereby granting him the freedom to lead a long, joyful life.
Ultimately, he imagined himself as an old man with gray hair on a picturesque estate, transcribing the books he had memorized from his former life and profiting from it, surrounded by a harem of beautiful women.
It would take many years before Fan Xian would acknowledge that these were merely justifications to rationalize his true desires—his perversion, shamelessness, and greed.
On the cliffs by the sea, Wu Zhu seemed to require some time to fully understand Fan Xian’s three goals, really. Calmly, he analyzed, “Then you need to have many wives and concubines, find many ‘bǐ tì’[ii], and hire many servants.”
“bǐ tì?” Fan Xian knew the term but was still unsure of its meaning here.
“Scholars in poverty who write manuscripts for other people. They have no rights to authorship.”
Fan Xian grinned. He had originally planned to have big names like Old Cao[iii] and Old Sha[iv] as his ghostwriters. He did not need ghostwriters, as Wu Zhu continued his overly simplistic analysis.
“If you intend to marry multiple wives and concubines, hire numerous servants, and indulge in ‘bǐ tì’, you must acquire considerable wealth. To generate significant money, you need substantial authority. The greater the authority you seek, the closer you need to be to the center of power in this nation.”
Wu Zhu turned decisively to leave, stating, “Once you turn sixteen, we’re heading back to the capital.”
Fan Xian stood still behind him, staring absently. He had simply shared some of his reasonable thoughts, yet this emotionally uncle interpreted them as a power play. Moreover, Wu Zhu had unilaterally decided when they would return to the capital. Fan Xian recalled how Wu Zhu had carried him away on his back the day he was born during their escape from the capital.
Unsure whether to laugh or cry at his predicament, Fan Xian slapped his own face to snap out of his daze. He hurried after Wu Zhu and said, “Uncle, I’ve shared my feelings; shouldn’t you give me a reward?”
“What do you want to know?”
“My mother—why were people pursuing us in the capital?”
“I will reveal everything about her Ladyship when you turn sixteen, as that was her final wish. As for those who pursued us, there’s no need for you to worry; they all perished eight years ago.”
When they returned to Danzhou, it was already noon. Fan Xian distanced himself from Wu Zhu and entered the city alone. The locals had become accustomed to seeing this young master wandering about by himself. Although there were no wild animals or hazardous areas nearby, people felt the Count’s villa was rather negligent concerning the safety of this illegitimate son.
After all, to them, Fan Xian was just a twelve-year-old boy.
With this thought in mind, they watched the strikingly handsome boy stride confidently through the city, his presence exuding self-assurance that made their hearts flutter with excitement.
Fan Xian, with his tousled dark hair glinting in the sunlight and a charming smile playing on his lips, remained blissfully unaware of the admiration and curious whispers surrounding him. He subtly lowered his head, his expression a mix of humility and quiet confidence, before turning on his heel and making his way back to the opulent Count’s villa, its grand architecture looming behind him like a silent guardian of his allure.
[i] Cao Xueqin (4 April 1710 – 10 June 1765) was a Chinese novelist and poet during the Qing dynasty. He is best known as the author of Dream of the Red Chamber, one of the Four Great Classical Novels of Chinese literature. His given name was Cao Zhan (曹霑), and his courtesy name was Mengruan.
[ii] Bǐ tì (笔替 / 筆替) refers to a ghostwriter or a substitute calligrapher, typically described as being poorly paid. It implies someone who does the writing or calligraphy work on behalf of another person, often for low compensation.
[iii] Cao Cao (曹操; c. 155 – 15 March 220), courtesy name Mengde, was a Chinese statesman, warlord, and poet.
[iv] Yi Sha 伊沙 吴文健 Yi Sha is the pen name of Wu Wenjian. Born in Chengdu, Sichuan province, in 1966, he is a prolific writer. He has produced over twenty collections of poetry, fiction, and non-fiction prose, including several volumes of criticism.
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