Chapter 1: Fooled by a Major Scam

Along the mountain path in late autumn, clusters of shrubs bore leaves tinged with a deep purplish-red, from afar resembling vivid blossoms. The sky stretched clear and blue, while the autumn breeze carried wisps of white clouds drifting into the distance.

Amid such a picturesque scene, a young girl sat resting against a tree, her back leaning on a stone, yet she showed no interest in the beauty surrounding her. She pressed her hand against the hilt of the sword at her waist, glanced at the children nearby, then withdrew her gaze to look up at the sky, her face etched with utter desolation.

“Mother? Sit here; it’s not cold,” a timid girl of about five or six pointed hesitantly to a spot beside her.

That spot was another large stone, but unlike the one she sat on, it was thickly layered with yellow leaves, clearly placed there by human hands.

“I’ve told you so many times, don’t call me mother. You’re not allowed to call me that,” Hong Xiaoduo muttered, feeling as though she was losing her mind. Yet, seeing the children’s innocent expressions, her irritability softened. Sighing, she wondered what she was doing—quibbling with a few pitiful children?

Xiaoduo couldn’t help but think: if she had known it would come to this, when she saw them being beaten by that man last night, would she have just looked away and walked off? Perhaps things wouldn’t have turned out this way.

She was already overwhelmed, unable to sort out her own troubles, yet she still found herself meddling in others’ affairs, trying to defend the helpless.

“This is some wild fruit I just picked,” a boy approached, tugging at the corner of his shirt and carefully handing over a few relatively large, well-formed hawthorns. “Eat some to fill your stomach.”

Another one calling her “mother.” Xiaoduo felt her temples throb violently. Just moments ago, she had suppressed her rage, but it erupted again as she glared at the boy, pointing at the little girl beside him. “She’s little, so it’s forgivable for her to call me that, but what about you? You must be eight or nine, right? Your eyes work fine, don’t they? Look closely—how old do I look? How many years older than you am I? How can you say that? I look only about fifteen or sixteen. Could I possibly have a son your age? I would have given birth to you before I was ten?”

The boy, already pale, turned even whiter, trembling slightly.

Seeing the frightened faces of his younger siblings around him, and realizing he was the eldest, he mustered his courage and stammered cautiously, “So, how should I address you? Madam? What’s appropriate?”

How to address her? To her, that question shouldn’t even exist. From the moment she appeared yesterday in this utterly unfamiliar place, her heart and mind had been in turmoil.

More urgent than how the children called her was her desperate need to understand her current situation.

Just then, a rumbling sound came from beside her. Hong Xiaoduo turned to see a child clutching his stomach, his face pale and wan.

She knew that sound—it was hunger.

Since rescuing them last night, none of them had eaten a thing. Could they not be hungry?

The wild fruit the boy carried in his shirt pocket—putting aside whether it was even edible—was too few to satisfy anyone, let alone fill hungry stomachs. Yet, he offered them to her first.

Of course, his gesture toward her as “mother” was hardly filial; it was clearly an act of flattery, a desperate attempt to keep her care.

“Fine, fine, call me whatever you want. You, you stay here with them and don’t wander off. I’ll go find some food,” Xiaoduo said, knowing how awful hunger felt. Adults could endure it, but these were still children.

Especially seeing them so scared they didn’t dare complain or cry, yet still trying to please her—it made her heart feel inexplicably restless.

Who could she blame for this? Only herself.

What overwhelmed Hong Xiaoduo even more was that after a sleepless night, she now remembered only her own name. The only memory left was from a visit to a well-known seaside beach recommended by many influencers—the blue sky, the lounge chairs under umbrellas, sipping coconut water, watching handsome men with chiseled abs play volleyball.

Everything before that had vanished; she couldn’t recall a thing.

At that time, a sudden rain shower sent beachgoers scattering. Without the handsome men around and unwilling to stay cooped up in her hotel room, she decided to explore the area to find some authentic local cuisine—not the overpriced and tasteless fare near tourist spots.

She found a local food court on her phone but had no taxi, so she walked. Midway, the sky suddenly turned violent with thunder and lightning, rain pouring down fiercely, her umbrella barely holding against the wind.

Spotting a tech experience center by the roadside, she thought to take shelter inside until the storm eased.

Inside, only one receptionist was present. She explained she just wanted to avoid the rain in the lobby, but the attendant was warm and welcoming, saying the rain wouldn’t stop anytime soon and inviting her to explore inside. They said that with an ID, she could buy a ticket and might even win a grand prize—free entry and all experiences gratis.

Looking out at the rain, which blurred the view across the street, she was reluctant to wait outside any longer. She put down her umbrella and took out her ID to register.

Unexpectedly, the attendant’s expression changed to surprise upon seeing her ID. He immediately called someone on the phone. Soon, an elderly man with glasses, scholarly in appearance, arrived.

Hong Xiaoduo overheard the attendant address the man respectfully as “Director.” The director examined her ID and asked if she knew her birth hour.

Without much thought, she answered. Then the director became excited, saying he had been waiting for this moment.

He explained that when the tech experience center was first built, someone suggested setting a few specific birthdates. Visitors whose birthdates matched these would not only get free entry but also receive a special commemorative gift.

The director said that since the center’s opening, Hong Xiaoduo was the first and only lucky person.

She was quite pleased and casually mentioned that she would buy some lottery tickets at the store outside afterward.

From the attendant, she learned that the main attraction of the center was a time-travel experience. Participants could choose the era to visit—ancient times or the future.

Xiaoduo, who had always dreamed of being a chivalrous heroine and loved reading historical romance novels, eagerly embraced the idea.

The director personally helped her lie down inside a capsule-like experience chamber and fitted her with an EEG cap like those used in hospitals. He then instructed her to operate the screen before her, choosing the time period, setting, identity, appearance, and skills she wanted to experience.

There were no limits. Xiaoduo chose the role of a heroine, added talents like playing the zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting—skills useful for impressing and outwitting rivals in her stories.

When it came to selecting the male lead, she hesitated. What identity would her hero have? A prince? A duke? A general? A noble heir? A wandering knight?

As her finger hovered indecisively over the screen, worried the director might laugh at her, she glanced up—and saw outside the transparent chamber the director’s face lit with a strangely excited, almost eerie smile.

Realizing something was wrong and wanting to remove the gear and leave, it was too late. The director, seeing through her intent, swiftly pressed a button. The chamber’s glass door sealed shut with a hiss.

Outside, the director smiled and spoke to her, but she could hear nothing—whether his voice was too soft or the chamber’s soundproofing was too good, she couldn’t tell.

Then she felt as if hurtling through a tunnel adorned with myriad colorful lights at breakneck speed, before her mind lost consciousness.

When Hong Xiaoduo regained awareness and opened her eyes, she was dressed in ancient clothing, standing in a historical town where everyone wore traditional attire. At her waist hung an old-fashioned sword, heavy and real even without drawing it.

In that dazed moment, the only certainty was this: she had been tricked...