Chapter Six: The Curse of Science

Wangjing City was bustling, teeming with people. Normally, as long as you weren’t brandishing a broadsword or carrying a powerful bow or crossbow, entering the city didn’t invite strict scrutiny. However, if the gate guards took a dislike to you and insisted on checking, that too was perfectly legitimate.

Passing through the long vaulted city gate, Liang Zhi narrowed his eyes. This city surprised him once again.

Everywhere he looked, there were buildings of at least five stories, layered pavilions with carved beams and embroidered doors, as if he had stepped onto the set of a historical film. Yet the storefronts boasted glowing signs, tall street lamps and utility poles lined the roads, and now and then a steam-powered four-wheeler would rumble past.

The most eye-opening sight, however, was up in the sky—a great airship, painted with a dragon’s head, drifting above the city.

The people of Wangjing were a curious lot as well. Some wore short hair, others long; there were those in Western suits and dresses, those in flowing hanfu and long gowns, and others dressed in all manner of peculiar mixtures.

To his left stood a teahouse with a plaque inscribed by the Emperor Wulong himself; to his right, a coffee shop proudly advertised that it brewed only with genuine civet coffee beans.

East and West, tradition and trend, all fused together in strange harmony.

Antai Town had been somewhat like this, but it had never struck Liang Zhi with such force.

“Stop daydreaming by the roadside. People will think you’re a country bumpkin. First, we need to find a place to stay,” came a soft voice from the collar of his shirt. Lord Crow poked his head out and whispered to Liang Zhi.

Liang Zhi didn’t move, instead pointing into the distance. “What’s that?”

Where he pointed stood a colossal tower, at least three hundred meters tall, forged entirely of metal, its cold gleam reflecting the sunlight. Such a magnificent structure was rare even in his previous life.

“That’s the communications tower of the Grand Dong News Bureau. With it, crucial news can be broadcast nationwide at once—like wanted notices for rogues such as yourself. There are a few more towers like that in Grand Dong, but they’re either in the imperial city or in major military strongholds at the borders.”

Liang Zhi drew a deep breath. Now he truly realized this world was far from simple. Beyond its strange supernatural forces, its level of technology clearly had much to offer. He set aside the pride of a transmigrator and resolved to live seriously in this world.

Lord Crow, evidently familiar with Wangjing, guided Liang Zhi to hire a “taxi.”

In Grand Dong, a taxi was a large tricycle, with a passenger carriage in back that could seat two, and the driver pedaling up front. Occasionally, steam-powered four-wheelers rattled by, but those were mostly the private cars of the wealthy.

“Look at that lady with the parasol—definitely a rich woman, and she looks as delicate as a flower. Should we rob her?”

“This alley is pitch black at night. We could stake it out and wait for someone to pass by... heh heh heh.”

“The Grand Dong Bank! See, that’s the Grand Dong Bank. As a future notorious villain, how can you not rob a bank at least once?”

Lord Crow chattered incessantly along the way, voicing all sorts of wicked notions.

“Can you be quiet for a moment? I agreed to your request, but I’ll fulfill those last wishes my own way!” Liang Zhi pinched Lord Crow’s neck and hissed a warning.

The driver shot Liang Zhi a strange look. Was this man deranged? Why bully a little crow? What harm could a crow possibly do?

After much noisy squabbling, the driver finally pulled over and asked for thirty-two coins as fare. These tricycle taxis had no meter; the price was set by time, thirty coins per hour.

“So you want me to live here from now on?” Liang Zhi asked.

Before him lay a sunken, shabby street, bisected by an overhead bridge whose underside was packed with people. Shirtless performers thrust iron rods down their throats, men in glittering suits put on card tricks, and all sorts of snack sellers, fortune-tellers, and diviners filled the space with their stalls.

Lord Crow circled above the crowd, made a few loops over one stall, then fluttered back to Liang Zhi’s shoulder.

“That’s right, this is the place—Erxian Bridge. All the street performers from the Eastern District gather here. It’s at the junction of several wards, perfect for staying hidden.”

Liang Zhi pulled a face. “The buildings are so old, the crowds below so noisy. I bet there’s a railway up on that bridge—when a train passes…”

Lord Crow tapped Liang Zhi’s cheek. “It’s not easy to live in Wangjing. If you’d taken my advice and pulled a few jobs first, we’d have had a lot more choices.”

Liang Zhi shrugged, ignoring Lord Crow, and wandered around Erxian Bridge. He went to a photo studio first, then started looking for a place to rent.

He spent the whole afternoon searching before finally finding a decent place—Building 44, Apartment 404 on Erxian Bridge Street.

“Handsome, take good care of it,” said the landlady, a fierce-looking woman with a perm and a cigarette dangling from her lips. “It’s furnished. Pay your own utilities. No cats or dogs. Don’t bring people over to make noise and disturb the neighbors. Keep the place clean.”

She checked Liang Zhi’s identity card, took his money, and shuffled away in her slippers.

In Wangjing, you couldn’t rent a place without an identity card. Before house hunting, Liang Zhi had merged his freshly taken photo with that of the twisted doctor Liang Feng, so from this moment, he was officially someone.

He surveyed the apartment. This was to be his new home.

It had electricity, though only a few lightbulbs. There was a water heater in the bathroom, gas in the kitchen, but both required extra payment for use. What Liang Zhi liked best was a huge window, from which he could gaze down at the lively street below.

“This is my home now.”

“And now comes the time for a transmigrator to shine—copying books, copying technologies. My era is about to begin.”

Half an hour later, Liang Zhi sat staring blankly, his hair disheveled.

“How could this happen? Why can’t I remember anything?”

He’d wanted to introduce formulas from his previous life, start a company, and make his fortune, but everything he could clearly recall—soap, glass, cement, electric lights—already existed here.

As for what this world lacked, he simply couldn’t remember.

He had been a top student at a prestigious technical university back home, though his final job had nothing to do with his field, but he certainly had knowledge. Yet the details of that knowledge eluded him completely, shattering his plan to profit from his transmigrator’s expertise.

“This makes no sense. Why can’t I remember anything?” Grabbing Lord Crow by the throat, he demanded, “Tell me, did I lose something after coming here?”

Lord Crow pecked furiously at Liang Zhi’s hand, squawking, “Isn’t it better that you can’t remember those things?”

“And remember—here in Grand Dong, don’t mention science.”

“In this place, science is a dreadful curse!”