I was a mineral prospector in Chengdu, who transmigrated into the body of a mortal sword immortal.

Duan Qiniang quietly walked to the window and stood beside Li Bai, also looking out at the bustling street. She keenly sensed a melancholy aura emanating from the man beside her, so different from his usual poetic and carefree demeanor; it was a deep sense of confusion and some kind of... indescribable pain.

"Li Lang," she spoke softly, breaking the silence, "does the hustle and bustle of Chang'an remind you of the green hills and clear waters of Shu? Or... your family?" She paused, then tentatively suggested, "If you're feeling cooped up inside, how about... I accompany you to the West Market? There seems to be a new troupe of foreign merchants performing today; it's quite lively. A change of scenery might help you relax."

Li Bai slowly withdrew his gaze and looked at Duan Qiniang. Her eyes held genuine concern. In this completely unfamiliar world, this concern was especially precious, making him even more acutely aware of his own loneliness.

He nodded, his voice a little hoarse: "Okay. Let's go take a look."

Go and see the era in which he will live. Go and see, beneath this glorious age, what kind of path can this lonely soul from the future forge?

At the very least, he has to survive.

Then, find the power.

To find... perhaps a way to transcend time and space and reconnect with that desperate longing.

***

"Please wait a moment, Mr. Li, I'll go change my clothes." Duan Qiniang's eyebrows relaxed when she saw that he agreed, and she turned to walk behind the screen.

Li Bai stood still, his gaze returning to the window. He forced himself to calm down, and began to analyze the situation before him, as if facing a complex geological formation in the wild.

First, he time-traveled, and the time period is roughly during the Kaiyuan era of the Tang Dynasty—this can be confirmed from Duan Qiniang's words just now.

Secondly, he became Li Bai, the young Li Bai who was not yet famous throughout the world.

Third, he lost all his modern identity, resources, and relationships, but retained his memories and knowledge—his only remaining possessions.

Fourth, the woman in front of him named Duan Qiniang is the only "local" he can currently contact, and she is also the key to understanding this era and "his" past.

Fifth, and most importantly—Yang Xiaohuan. It felt as if that cold dagger had pierced his chest again, a sharp pain accompanied by a feeling of suffocation washing over him instantly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The air was filled with the mingled scents of spices, cosmetics, and the distant aroma of food—a cruelly real atmosphere.

Is she still alive? On the streets of Chengdu in 2003, after she collapsed, what would those beasts do to her? Her parents were seriously ill… money… Liu Han Group…

"Li Lang?"

Duan Qiniang's voice pulled him back from his painful memories. She had changed into a pale yellow high-waisted ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), with a light blue half-sleeved garment over it, and a dark green silk sash tied around her waist. Her hair had been recombed and adorned with a simple silver hairpin. Her face was lightly powdered, and she looked more fresh and pretty than the languid and charming woman she had been in bed earlier.

"You... don't look well." Duan Qiniang approached, reaching out to touch his forehead, then hesitated and stopped. "Did you really catch a cold last night? Or... are you troubled by something?"

Seeing the undisguised worry in her eyes, Li Bai felt a slight stirring in his heart. This woman genuinely cared for "Li Bai".

He must use this to gather information without revealing that he is an "imposter".

"It's alright." He tried to make his voice sound calm, even attempting a smile, but failed. "It's just... I was drunk last night, and I don't remember many things clearly. Seventh Sister, you just said... it's the Kaiyuan era now?"

Duan Qiniang blinked, then suddenly burst into laughter, lightly covering her lips with her fan: "Li Lang, are you still teasing me? How could you forget what year it is?" She thought Li Bai was feigning ignorance, a hint of coquettishness flashing in her eyes. "Of course it's the twenty-third year of the Kaiyuan era. Didn't you just mention a few days ago that the Emperor presided over the Fengshan ceremony in Luoyang, the Eastern Capital, this year—a magnificent spectacle—but unfortunately, you were too poor to attend?"

The 23rd year of the Kaiyuan era! 735 AD!

Li Bai's heart skipped a beat. It was indeed the middle of Emperor Xuanzong's reign, one of the most prosperous years of the Kaiyuan era. It was a full twenty years before the An Lushan Rebellion, which would change the fate of the Tang Dynasty. And before Yang Yuhuan was made a Consort… He quickly recalled the vague historical timeline; roughly how many years? He couldn't remember the exact number, but it shouldn't be far off.

"Fengshan..." he murmured repeatedly. This was the highest ceremony for the emperor to worship heaven and earth, and it was indeed a symbol of a prosperous era.

"Yes," Duan Qiniang said, seeing that he seemed genuinely dazed, and continued the conversation in a light tone, trying to dispel the gloom between his brows. "However, Chang'an City hasn't been quiet lately. A few days ago, the Secretary of the Imperial Secretariat, He Gong, hosted a banquet, and I heard that many literati and scholars came. They had a poetry contest, and it was quite lively. It's a pity that you, Li Lang, were somewhere those few days and missed the show."

Lord He? Secretary-General... He Zhizhang!

Li Bai's spirits lifted. This was the key figure! Historically, He Zhizhang was the first high-ranking official to appreciate Li Bai after he entered the capital, and the comment "a banished immortal" came from him.

"Supervisor He..." he hesitated, choosing his words carefully, "...how has he been lately?"

"Lord He is in good health and full of vigor, and he loves to mentor younger generations," Duan Qiniang said with a smile, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Does Li Lang wish to pay him a visit? With your poetic talent, if you could earn a single word of praise from Lord He, you would instantly become famous in Chang'an. However…" She paused, looking Li Bai up and down at his slightly thin undergarment and empty waist, "A visit requires some formalities, you…"

She didn't finish her sentence, but her meaning was clear.

Li Bai immediately understood his current financial situation—it was probably quite dire. How much money could a young, unknown writer who had traveled far and wide have? Staying in the boudoir of a famous courtesan in Pingkangfang was probably because of... a close relationship, or perhaps Duan Qiniang didn't care about such things.

A sense of embarrassment welled up inside him. In his past life, although he wasn't wealthy, he was a respectable geological engineer with a stable income and dignity. Now…

"I... am a little short on cash," he admitted frankly, while observing Duan Qiniang's reaction. This was a test, and also a way to gather information.

Duan Qiniang, as expected, showed no disdain. Instead, she sighed, her eyes softening: "I knew it. You always spend your money on wine and books, or on helping friends who are even more destitute than you. Wu Zhinan wrote to me the other day saying he fell ill again in Xiangyang. Did you send him most of your money again?"

Wu Zhinan? Another name popped into his mind. Li Bai vaguely remembered that this was a close friend of Li Bai's from his youth, who seemed to have died young. It seemed that this "himself" was not only a poet with untapped talent, but also a generous and righteous person who was bad at managing money.

"When a friend is in trouble, one should help them." Li Bai followed her words, but in his heart he thought that this might be a good opportunity to understand "his" past interpersonal relationships.

"You're always like this." Duan Qiniang shook her head, her tone tinged with helplessness and a hint of admiration. "Never mind, let's not talk about this. Since we're going to the West Market, we should at least change into some decent clothes." She turned and walked to a mahogany wardrobe, opened it, and took out a moon-white round-necked robe. It was made of fine linen, with simple blue bamboo leaf patterns embroidered on the collar and cuffs.

"This was a new one I made for you a few days ago, but I haven't had a chance to give it to you yet." Duan Qiniang handed over the robe and pointed to the screen. "Go and change into it. The shoes are by the bed, they're new."

Li Bai took the clothes; they were soft to the touch. He went behind the screen and quickly changed out of his undergarments. The robe fit him perfectly, clearly made to Li Bai's size. He put on linen socks and a pair of brand-new black upturned shoes, fastened his belt, and then tidied his hair again—he wasn't very good at styling ancient men's hair, and could only barely keep it from becoming disheveled.

When he stepped out from behind the screen, Duan Qiniang's eyes lit up.

"Clothes make the man, and gold makes the Buddha. Li Lang, dressed like this, you look like a refined scholar traveling for study." She smiled and stepped forward, naturally reaching out to straighten his collar and cuffs. Her fingertips inadvertently brushed against his neck, leaving a slightly cool touch and a faint fragrance.

Li Bai stiffened slightly, but did not dodge. He could sense the familiarity and intimacy in Duan Qiniang's movements. The original owner of this body clearly had an extraordinary relationship with her.

"Let's go." Duan Qiniang seemed quite satisfied. She turned around, picked up a light silk fan, and walked towards the door first.

Pushing open the door to "Listening to Snow Pavilion," one finds a corridor leading to other similar rooms. Faint sounds of string and wind instruments and women's laughter can be heard coming from behind some doors. The air is thick with the scent of perfume and alcohol. Several brightly dressed, beautiful women are leaning against the railing, chatting and laughing. They all turn to look at Duan Qiniang and Li Bai as they emerge.

"Seventh Sister, are you heading out?" A woman in a peach-colored dress greeted her with a smile, her gaze sweeping over Li Bai. "Young Master Li looks quite well today; has our Seventh Sister taken good care of you?"

"You talk too much," Duan Qiniang said with a laugh, without stopping. "I'll take Li Lang to the West Market for a stroll."

"Oh, how thoughtful!" another woman said, covering her mouth with a smile.

Li Bai could sense the scrutiny, curiosity, and perhaps even a hint of envy in those gazes. He kept his eyes straight ahead, following Duan Qiniang through the corridor and down the wooden stairs. The stairs were rather steep, making a dull thud as he stepped on them.

Downstairs was a spacious hall with several tables. There weren't many guests at the moment; only a few tables were occupied by people drinking. A middle-aged man in a brocade robe, with a small mustache, was fiddling with an abacus behind the counter. Seeing Duan Qiniang, he looked up and smiled, "Qiniang, are you going out? And this is…?"

"Young Master Li," Duan Qiniang introduced briefly, then nodded to the man. "Steward Wang, let's go for a walk and come back later."

"Okay, okay." Manager Wang replied with a smile, his gaze lingering on Li Bai for a moment before he went back to calculating accounts.

Stepping out of the three-story wooden building with the plaque "Yiqingyuan" hanging above it, Li Bai was once again enveloped by the noisy atmosphere and bright sunlight. He squinted, adjusting his eyes to the outdoor light.

They were in Pingkang Ward. The streets inside were narrower than they had appeared from upstairs, but they were still bustling with people. Besides brothels like Yiqingyuan, there were taverns, teahouses, inns, and small shops selling cosmetics, jewelry, and trinkets. Most of the pedestrians were men, but there were also women, either in groups or with maids, and their clothing and appearance were much more refined than those of ordinary people.

"This way." Duan Qiniang was clearly very familiar with the roads, leading Li Bai through several alleys. On both sides of the alleys were high walls, with branches of locust or elm trees peeking out from the tops, casting dappled shadows on the ground. Occasionally, a carriage would pass by, the driver calling out "Excuse me!" and pedestrians would quickly make way.

Li Bai walked silently, his gaze like the most sophisticated geological scanner, greedily recording everything.

The bluestone path beneath my feet has been worn smooth by time and countless footsteps, with moss growing in the cracks. Shallow sewage flows in the drainage ditch beside the road, emitting an unpleasant smell, but it is quickly masked by the aroma of roasted flatbread and the pungent smell of boiled mutton wafting in the air.

He saw peddlers carrying loads on shoulder poles, with bamboo baskets at both ends filled with fresh vegetables, radishes still covered in mud, or lively, wriggling fish. He saw the blacksmith's furnace glowing red-hot, shirtless men sweating profusely, the rhythmic clanging of hammers striking iron. He saw the silk shop assistant standing at the door, unfurling bolts of brightly colored brocade, enthusiastically introducing them to passing women. He even saw several children chasing a rolling iron hoop, laughing and running past him, almost bumping into him.

Everything was unfamiliar, yet strangely full of life. This wasn't a replica in a museum, nor a set in a TV drama. This was a living, breathing ancient marketplace, with its rough textures, complex smells, and cacophony of sounds.

"Go through that gate ahead, and you'll reach the West Market," Duan Qiniang pointed ahead with her fan. There stood a tall gatehouse, with a constant stream of people and carriages passing under the gate. On both sides, soldiers in leather armor, holding long spears, stood guard, their eyes scanning the crowds coming and going warily.

As we approached the gate, the noise suddenly increased dramatically. It was as if an invisible barrier had been broken, and a more surging wave of sound, smells, and colors rushed towards us.

West Market.

Standing inside the gate, Li Bai gazed at the scene before him, and even though he was mentally prepared, he still felt a sense of dizziness and wonder.

This is a huge, square market, with streets laid out in a grid pattern, dividing it into countless neat "well"-shaped blocks. Each street is lined with shops, their banners fluttering and signs gleaming. Most shops have awnings or mats erected in front, displaying even more goods underneath. In the center of the streets, itinerant vendors practically fill the entire area.

People. People everywhere. Shoulder to shoulder, sweat pouring down. The sounds of vendors hawking their wares, haggling, arguing, laughing, and the neighing of livestock in various accents blended into a deafening ocean.

"Come on, be careful, stay close to me." Duan Qiniang turned back and gave a word of advice before merging into the crowd. Li Bai quickly followed, but his gaze was involuntarily drawn to the bizarre and colorful goods on both sides.

Silk, porcelain, lacquerware, gold and silver ware, ironware, medicinal herbs, furs, spices, jewelry, books, paper, grains, wine, tea, salt, sugar, fruits, dried fruits, fresh seafood, live poultry and livestock... a dazzling array of goods, everything imaginable. He couldn't even name many of them.

He saw merchants from the Central Asian regions, with deep-set eyes, high noses, curly hair, and thick beards, dressed in tight-fitting, narrow-sleeved Central Asian clothing, speaking in broken Mandarin, peddling colorful glassware, jeweled jewelry, exotic spices, and carpets. He saw merchants from the south, displaying ivory, rhinoceros horn, pearls, and exquisite bamboo and wooden artifacts. There were also veiled dancers from the Western Regions, swaying their hips to the beat of drums on a makeshift stage, drawing cheers from the crowd.

The air was filled with an extremely complex mix of smells: the cumin aroma of roasted lamb skewers, the oily fragrance of fried noodles, the sweet scent of fruit, the strong and exotic aroma of spices, the tanning smell of leather, the stench of livestock manure, the sweat of the crowd... all sorts of smells intertwined, intense and vibrant.

Duan Qiniang seemed used to all of this. She skillfully weaved through the crowd, occasionally stopping to look at jewelry or fabrics, but more often she paid attention to Li Bai's reaction.

"Li Lang, look over there," she pointed with her fan to a tightly packed circle, "That's the new variety show troupe. They do everything—fire breathing, knife swallowing, tightrope walking, pole balancing—it's really entertaining. Why don't we go check it out?"

Li Bai looked in the direction she pointed and saw several performers in colorful costumes performing in the center of the circle formed by the crowd. A man tilted his head back, stuffed a burning torch into his mouth, and then suddenly spat out a long stream of flame, eliciting gasps and cheers. Another small, thin child nimbly walked on a taut rope high above, as if on flat ground.

It was wonderful and lively.

But Li Bai, observing all this, felt as if he were separated by a layer of transparent glass. The excitement belonged to them; he was merely an observer who had stumbled upon this place.

The invisible stabbing pain in her chest never disappeared. Yang Xiaohuan's terrified and sorrowful eyes, the cold touch of the dagger piercing her body, the warmth of the gushing blood... these fragments of memory were clearer and sharper than any vivid scene before her eyes.

He is alive, here.

But what about her?

"Li Lang? Li Lang?" Duan Qiniang's voice brought him back to reality. She had already bought two skewers of grilled gluten skewered on bamboo sticks and sprinkled with sesame seeds. She handed him one skewer, "Try it, the grilled gluten skewers from this place taste the best."

Li Bai took it and took a bite blankly. The gluten was roasted to a crispy exterior and tender interior, with a salty and savory aroma and the fragrance of sesame seeds—it was indeed quite good. But he couldn't taste it.

"You're acting really strange today." Duan Qiniang chewed the gluten slowly, but her gaze remained fixed on Li Bai's face. The forced ease finally faded, revealing the genuine worry beneath. "Have you encountered some difficulties? Tell me, and perhaps... I can help you think of a solution."

Looking into her clear eyes and seeing the concern in them, Li Bai felt a complex mix of emotions. There was gratitude, but also a deeper loneliness. What could she do to help? She didn't even know who he was.

"It's nothing." He looked away, gazing deeper into the market. "It's just... there are some things I can't figure out."

"If you can't figure it out, then think about it slowly," Duan Qiniang said gently. "In this life, who doesn't have a few things they can't figure out? Just like you often say, 'Enjoy life while you can, for tomorrow you may die.' The sun is shining brightly today, and the market is bustling. Why create trouble for yourself?"

Life is full of joy, so that the gold is empty for the moon.

These are lines from "his" future poems. Hearing them now from Duan Qiniang's mouth carries a strange sense of dislocation.

A thought suddenly struck Li Bai.

He transmigrated into the body of Li Bai. The poet Li Bai. The Li Bai whose every word resonated with half of the Tang Dynasty's glory.

He possesses this body and this identity. Although he does not yet have the original body's memories or complete poetic talent, he has a soul from the future, knowledge that transcends this era by more than a thousand years, and a vague understanding of the course of history.

Most importantly, he has someone he must protect, no matter what time or space she is in.

In his previous life, he was just a weak scholar, an engineer with no power or influence, powerless against the daggers of evil forces.

What about this lifetime?

Do we have to go through that feeling of helplessness again?

No.

A thought, like a flash of lightning in the darkness, suddenly illuminated his chaotic mind.

Now that I've been reborn as the Poet Immortal, can I change anything?

Can we change the fate of Li Bai? Can we change the fate of the Tang Dynasty? Can we change... those inevitable tragedies?

At the very least, you must find the strength to protect your loved ones.

Poetic talent may be a kind of power, enabling him to gain fame, status, and resources.

But is that enough? In the face of imperial power, in the torrent of history, in the face of those warlords who held military power, is poetry enough?

Mount Shu...Sword Immortal...

The illusion of soaring sword energy that he vaguely saw before his death, as well as the legends deeply rooted in the cultural bloodline of this body, now emerged with unparalleled clarity.

What if... those weren't just legends?

What if he could not only become a poetic genius, but also... a swordsmanship genius?

Does it possess the power to break free from the shackles of fate?

Li Bai's eyes gradually changed. The confusion and pain remained, but deep within, a faint yet incredibly resolute spark was ignited.

He looked once again at the bustling West Market, at the people struggling to make a living, at the arrogant nobles, and at the strangely dressed foreign merchants.

This era, this prosperous age, hides countless opportunities, and also harbors countless crises.

What kind of path can he, a time traveler who knows part of the future, and a lonely soul determined to find power, take here?

He didn't know the answer.

But he knew that from this moment on, he had a direction.

live.

Become stronger.

Then, protect what should be protected, and change what can be changed.

Even if the road ahead is long and the hope is slim.

He gripped the half-eaten grilled gluten skewer in his hand, his fingertips exerting a slight pressure.