Xu Fang sat back in his worn-out office chair, his fingers lazily tapping the edge of his desk as he stared at his computer screen. The world outside, with its busy streets and noisy people, felt so distant. It wasn't that he hated it—it was just that the world inside his screen was far more interesting. Numbers danced across the stock charts, shifting up and down with every moment, and with a few calculated clicks, he could manipulate the market to his favor.
He'd always been good at it—nothing extraordinary, just a knack for finding patterns and making calculated decisions. Stock scalping. It was all about buying low and selling high, but the trick was in experience, in seeing the hidden trends, the small fluctuations most people missed. His mind was sharp enough, but what he really relied on was his experience. In a world where most people struggled to get by, Xu Fang was able to live comfortably in his small, comfortable apartment without worrying about bills, food, or even the occasional luxury.
No one needed to know that, though. He had no intention of meeting anyone—no friends, no family. He'd made enough money to live a quiet, comfortable life, and that's all that mattered to him.
His family had given up on him years ago, not that it mattered to him. His relationship with them had always been strained—distant, with nothing to really bind them together. They had cut ties, which was fine by him. He wasn't the one who had given up; it was them. They were the ones who stopped reaching out, who couldn't understand his quiet lifestyle.
In a way, Xu Fang was content.
Sure, it wasn't a glamorous life—he didn't travel the world, he didn't have extravagant parties or high-profile friends—but it was his. Writing stories, painting comics, playing his guitar, binge-watching whatever anime or drama series caught his interest—these were his pastimes. It wasn't perfect, but it was good.
And yet, despite his comfort, despite his little corner of the world where he didn't have to worry about anything, Xu Fang couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was missing. Not that he needed anything more—he had everything he could ever want. But sometimes, late at night, as the soft hum of his computer was the only sound in the room, he wondered why he had no purpose.
It was on one of these nights that he finally fell asleep—tired from a day of mindlessly watching stock trends and scrolling through the same pages on the internet.
But when he woke up…
Everything was different.
Xu Fang's eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, everything felt normal. The dim light from the lamp by his desk spilled across the floor, the same as it always had. But then he felt something strange—the warmth of the sunlight filtering through his window was unlike anything he had ever felt. It was heavier, more oppressive, the air thick with humidity. He slowly turned his head to glance around the room, but there was no sign of his usual apartment.
Instead, he was lying on a soft, unfamiliar bed with heavy, ornate curtains draped around him. The room was furnished in a way that felt… ancient. Wooden beams lined the ceiling, and fine silks adorned the walls. It was like something out of a historical drama or a fantasy novel.
What the hell?
Panic quickly set in. He bolted upright in the bed, his hands immediately touching his face, his arms, as if checking to make sure everything was real. His heart pounded in his chest, and his breath became shallow.
No. This couldn't be happening.
For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming, but the panic in his chest was far too real. He scrambled out of bed, looking around frantically. The more he took in the lavish surroundings, the more confused he became. He was no longer in his small, familiar apartment. Instead, he was in some sort of… grandiose room fit for royalty?
Suddenly, a loud knock echoed through the door.
"Second Young Master Xu, are you awake?" a voice called from the other side.
Xu Fang froze, his mind racing. What? Second Young Master Xu? That name…
Before he could process it fully, the door creaked open, and in stepped a middle-aged man dressed in fine, traditional robes. He had the look of a servant, but his posture was impeccable, as if he had been trained to serve only the highest of masters.
"Your father has called for you, Second Young Master. The family meeting is about to begin."
Xu Fang's mind whirled. Second Young Master? Family meeting? What was going on?
The man's voice was polite, respectful, but his expression was serious. He was clearly accustomed to addressing someone of high status.
"Uh… Sorry, I think there's been some mistake." Xu Fang managed to stammer out, his voice hoarse from the confusion.
The servant blinked, taken aback. "A mistake, Young Master?" He furrowed his brows, looking slightly confused. "Is something wrong?"
Xu Fang shook his head, but everything in his mind screamed that this wasn't right. There was no way he was some "Second Young Master" of a prominent family. He wasn't some cultivator in an ancient world, and he definitely wasn't in a place like this.
"I… I'm not who you think I am," Xu Fang muttered, rubbing his temples. This had to be some kind of mistake, a dream, a crazy hallucination.
The servant stared at him for a moment, as if deciding how to respond. He hesitated, but eventually nodded.
"Of course, Young Master. If you're not feeling well, I can inform the master of your absence."
Xu Fang's head spun as the servant bowed and turned to leave. His mind was racing—how had he gotten here? What was going on?
Then, as the door closed behind the servant, Xu Fang stood there, rooted to the spot.
"Wait," he muttered to himself. "What family? Who are these people? Why… Why am I here?"
He wasn't sure what was happening. All he knew was that the life he had so carefully crafted for himself in his old world—stock trading, staying home, living in his own little bubble—was gone.
What had happened? How did he go from being a successful shut-in to a "young master" in some ancient cultivation world? And more importantly, why?
He had no answers.
Just a growing sense of panic and confusion.