Volume One, Chapter Three: Consumption? Easily Cured-Após compreender o passado e o presente, criei o futuro primeiro-ministro astuto(Sono de Pescador)

He shifted to the edge of the table and brought the pen and inkstone back to the bed. This simple movement left him gasping for air, his body breaking out in a cold sweat. He wrote on the back of a sheet of snow-white paper, placed it beside the scroll, and sat waiting for a reply from the person on the other side. No one noticed the ripples currently stirring in his usually calm eyes. After all, he was a youth at heart, and he could not help but be curious about such a strange occurrence. Besides, since he intended to seek death that night, he might as well spend the afternoon chatting to pass the time.

When the paper appeared on the table, Su Jin’s cheeks flushed with excitement. She snatched it up, her eyes immediately falling upon her own handwriting. As light filtered through, she noticed black characters printed on the reverse side and quickly flipped it over. The reverse side contained traditional characters: "Shen Yubai, of the Dayue Dynasty. It seems our handwriting styles are rather different?"

Dayue? Dayue! Dayue?! Did the Dayue Dynasty actually exist? Su Jin stood frozen in shock. Then, she jumped up and cheered. The Dayue Dynasty was real! Their research had value. She was about to uncover a buried chapter of history that would finally silence those Western scholars!

Su Jin sat down, panting from the exertion. She read the words on the paper again—yes, Shen Yubai of the Dayue Dynasty. The handwriting was quite elegant, too. A scholar. Scholars were rare in ancient times. She was incredibly lucky. Su Jin tore off a new sheet of paper. Just as she was about to write, she remembered that the person on the other side might not understand modern script, so she typed the message on her phone, converted it into traditional characters, and copied it onto the paper. She could read traditional characters, but she could not write them well; the result looked like a clumsy assembly of strokes. She picked it up to inspect it—well, it was a bit ugly, but legible. Brazenly, Su Jin placed the paper on the scroll, and it vanished once more.

In the Dayue Dynasty, within a small farmhouse courtyard, Shen Yubai had waited a bit longer this time because the note was longer and written in traditional characters.

"I am a person from five thousand years in the future! Are you really from the Dayue Dynasty? This is just amazing!"

Five thousand years in the future? Ripples stirred in Shen Yubai’s dark eyes. Such a supernatural event was actually happening to him! The pure glass cup, the strange black brick, the incredibly fragrant food, and the snow-white, fine paper—these bizarre objects, which he had never heard of, all came from the future! Shen Yubai pursed his lips, his picturesque features filled with intense curiosity. However, a moment later, his eyes were veiled in gloom. Everyone else had a future, but he, Shen Yubai, did not. What was the point of it all?

The fleeting joy in his heart was suppressed, and his face turned cold. His long, pale fingers gripped the brush, and after dipping it into the inferior ink, he wrote a line of small regular script on the back of the note and placed it near the scroll.

"My apologies. I have contracted tuberculosis and have been bedridden for a long time; I cannot be of help to you."

Now that he had made it clear he could not help, the person on the other side would surely stop writing, right? A faint sense of loss welled up in Shen Yubai’s heart—indescribable and unclear. In this final afternoon of his life, he still felt curiosity and expectation for the future. What was life like five thousand years later? What was the status of the person corresponding with him? To be able to drink from a glass cup and have such delicious meals, their status must not be low. And what was that black box?

As Shen Yubai pondered, a note drifted down once more. He immediately picked it up to read, and upon seeing the words, he was struck dumb. How could this be? He checked the information on the note again, uncertain.

"Are you certain it is tuberculosis? I will go to the pharmacy and buy medicine for you right now. You will be better once you take it."

Tuberculosis... could be cured? Shen Yubai’s hand trembled as he read the note over and over. The characters looked cobbled together, but the meaning was clear: the person on the other side was going to buy him medicine. Could he really be cured?

Another note arrived. "Your tuberculosis is what we call pulmonary tuberculosis. It can be cured with six to nine months of medication, so don't worry. But it’s a deal—you must help me once you’re better! My graduation depends on you!"

Shen Yubai found himself shamefully feeling a sense of anticipation. Fighting back a cough, he wrote four characters on the back of the note: "It is a deal."

When the note arrived, Su Jin was delighted. Once she cured Shen Yubai’s tuberculosis, information about the Dayue Dynasty would pour into her arms. There was a pharmacy right outside the school, and Su Jin bought a box of Rifampicin—100 capsules for only 27 yuan. It would last Shen Yubai a long time. She wrote the dosage instructions in traditional characters and sent them over along with the medicine.

Shen Yubai only waited for the time it takes to burn two incense sticks before a strange object appeared from the other side. He read the instructions first, then picked up the pure white, peculiar bottle. It was neither porcelain nor wood. It was very light. Shen Yubai pulled hard on the lid, but it wouldn't budge. He tapped it against the edge of the brick bed; the bottle only dented slightly, showing no signs of shattering. For such a light bottle to be so sturdy was remarkable. Any lingering hesitation vanished—the medicine provided by this person would surely cure him! The youth’s previously gloomy expression faded, and his eyes sparkled with vitality. "May I ask how to retrieve the medicine inside to consume it?"

Su Jin was momentarily stumped by this question. How could she explain how to twist it open? Teach him face-to-face? They couldn't see each other. Record a video? He wouldn't know how to use a phone. Su Jin could only think of the most primitive method: diagrams. She drew the bottle on paper, drew a mark on the cap, and added a rotational arrow. The second diagram showed the same bottle, but with the mark on the cap rotated 90 degrees. After drawing five such diagrams in a row, she felt it was sufficient. If he still didn't understand... she would just have to take the medicine out and send it in paper packets. Right, why hadn't she thought of that? She was too inexperienced.

In the Dayue Dynasty, Shen Yubai studied the diagrams carefully. He tentatively gripped the cap and, using all his strength, managed to twist it off. He picked up one of the long, thin pills and stared at it in mid-air, his curiosity growing. Could such a small pill really cure a disease? Yet, he did not suspect he was being deceived. He had no value worth deceiving. He didn't even fear death, so why fear fake medicine? After taking the medicine according to Su Jin’s instructions, his gaze fell upon the strange white bottle. It was too conspicuous—that wouldn't do. Shen Yubai poured all the pills onto a sheet of bamboo paper, wrapped them up, and hid them in the cotton padding at the head of his bed. He then sent the bottle back to Su Jin. "My Dayue does not have such items; it is too ostentatious to keep it. Please take it back, Miss."

Returning it was indeed the better choice; it wouldn't do for a plastic medicine bottle to appear in the Dayue Dynasty a thousand years early. Su Jin was deeply curious about Shen Yubai’s situation. Through their exchange of notes, she had almost mapped out his life. He was a 17-year-old youth from a family of scholars and farmers. An ancestor had once been a third-rank official who bought vast tracts of land for the clan to manage, using the harvest to support the education of talented children in the hope of producing more officials to ensure the family's prosperity.

Su Jin immediately recorded all of this in her notebook. It was a classic example of clan culture, and through these details, she could slowly piece together the customs and social landscape of the Dayue Dynasty. Thinking of the sensation these findings would cause, Su Jin grew even more excited. Tearing paper was becoming a hassle, so she used a notebook, sending it over for Shen Yubai to write in below her entries. In one afternoon, they had filled over twenty pages.

When she learned Shen Yubai was about to have dinner, Su Jin felt a sudden urge. "What are you having for dinner?"

"Sorghum porridge."

Su Jin frowned in distaste. "That has no nutrition. You are in poor health and need to eat well to recover. I’ll buy your dinner."

When Shen Yubai saw the words, his lips curled slightly. He couldn't help but recall the incredibly delicious food he had tasted earlier. However, he declined: "Rice and stir-fried dishes are too expensive; I cannot accept such a favor."

A reply soon arrived: "In our era, everyone can afford stir-fried dishes and rice. If one wishes, one can eat them at every meal."

Shen Yubai was struck with disbelief. In the Dayue Dynasty, even landlords only ate rice and stir-fried dishes on holidays and festivals. Five thousand years later, the common people could eat these delicacies at every meal? What a golden age that must be!