DTTM 1

Chapter 1: The Outcasts of the Country of Wo

White snowflakes drifted down, silent and still, as if only my father and I were left in the world, struggling through the snow.

It’s that dream again.

The moment I saw the sky blanketed in white and my father’s familiar silhouette ahead, I knew I was dreaming again.

White breaths kept billowing from my mouth. With each step, fine snow seeped into the gaps in my boots, creating a biting cold. Gradually, I lost all feeling in my feet. The human brain is amazing; even though it was just a dream, the pain was so vivid.

“When you meet the nobleman, don’t say anything out of line. Remember what I taught you?” Father asked, turning his head slightly.

He was not even forty years old, but because he was a heavy smoker and drinker, he looked like someone in his forties or fifties. His teeth were either missing or yellowed, he was extremely thin, and his cheeks were sunken, making his deep red eyes stand out. Even more deadly was his smell; he reeked of a sour, foul odor that was particularly noticeable even outdoors in the cold winter.

“Yes, I remember.” I nodded and silently reviewed Father’s “teachings” in my mind, counting on my fingers.

When meeting important people, smile, bow, and look at their shoe tips. Never lift your gaze unless permitted. Answer every question. Don’t look around.

“Don’t blame me for being harsh,” Father sighed, his steps steady as he walked toward the grand, gray-white mansion rising majestically in the distant snowy landscape. “Jiang Man, this is the fate of Wo people. With these fiery eyes, we’re looked down upon everywhere we go. I also want to find a decent job to support you and your grandmother, but this world won’t allow it…”

Young as I was, I followed behind without a word. Though barely ten and barely able to read, I instantly knew Father’s words were nothing but a noble-sounding excuse.

When I was five, civil unrest erupted in our homeland, the Kingdom of Wo. My parents, my younger brother, my grandmother, and I, five of us, fled to neighboring Penglai. Hundreds of thousands of Wo people escaped alongside us, and their sudden arrival caused considerable panic in Penglai.

Starving and exhausted refugees swarmed fields like locusts, devouring everything in sight; Shops, homes, and even passersby were stripped bare; the most vicious among them took advantage of the chaos to kill and maim. Such behavior fueled the growing resentment and discontent among Penglai’s citizens. 

Though Penglai soon implemented policies to appease the populace, systematically accepting these refugees and settling them in areas outside the main city, the Penglai people’s distaste for the Wo people had already taken root. Even years later, when the rebel leader who had conquered the Kingdom of Wo surrendered to Penglai, and the kingdom was incorporated into Penglai, making the “Wo people” its sole ethnic minority, the Penglai people still did not regard us as compatriots. They had silver hair and blue eyes, while we had brown hair and red eyes. In their eyes, perhaps rats shared more genetic similarity with us.

In such an environment, finding work, especially respectable employment, was indeed difficult for the Wo people. Yet my father’s despondency stemmed from other causes.

From the time I could remember, he seldom returned home. He was either gambling, drinking, or doing both simultaneously. They say my mother left him in frustration one ordinary morning, taking my younger brother, who was two years younger than me, and never returning.

After she left, he didn’t mend his ways. Instead, he gambled even more recklessly, constantly ranting, “One day I’ll make that woman regret it. I’ll show her what I’m capable of!” Only to lose everything each time. He stole the few pieces of jewelry Grandma had hastily packed during their escape and sold off every valuable item in the house. Finally, when I turned ten, with nothing left to sell, he set his sights on me, his own flesh and blood.

Half a month ago, through some unknown connection, he learned that a noble family surnamed Zong in the royal capital Baiyujing was seeking a companion tutor for their son. He took me all the way by train for the interview.

The interview venue had floors so polished they reflected like mirrors. Everyone wore identical white lab coats, moving about without a whisper. I turned around twice inside a translucent enclosure, they drew several vials of my blood, and then they sent me away, they didn’t ask a single question throughout the entire process.

We waited at home for half a month. My father grew discouraged, thinking all hope was lost. Then one day, a call from Baiyujing unexpectedly arrived.

A black luxury hovercar pulled up directly in front of our house, out of place amidst the dilapidated, chaotic surroundings. My father took my hand, strutting like a rooster that had finally won a battle, his chest puffed out as he climbed into the back seat.

We drove over two hundred kilometers out of Zengcheng, entered Baiyujing, and finally stopped in the backyard of the Zong family mansion in Shangcheng.

“Dad, that man in the car just said that besides the 200,000 yuan he’s giving you today, he’ll give me a monthly salary… You can take the 200,000 yuan, but can I give my monthly salary to Grandma?”

The man ahead paused slightly at the words, then quickly resumed walking: “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll give that 200,000 to your grandmother too. I’ll save it all for her!”

That’s a lie.

Even a fool could tell that the moment that 200,000 hit his account, he’d gamble it away.

200,000… how cheap. A Wo child’s life was worth only 200,000.

Father initially claimed I was going as a study companion, but that was a lie. Why would a prestigious family like the Penglai nobles hire a commoner child as a study companion? That was the pretext; the real purpose was to serve as a mobile blood bag, a living organ bank.

As a major noble house, the Zong family likely suffered from generations of inbreeding. By this generation, producing heirs had become difficult. After years of struggle, they had only one son, Zong Yanlei.

Unfortunately, this young master, who was the same age as me, was born with a blood disease. He was weak from a young age, and his skin would ulcerate at the slightest touch. He not only had to take a lot of medicine every day, but also needed regular blood transfusions to stay alive.

My blood type is the same as his, I’m healthy, and I even have a rare full match for leukocyte antigens. Simply put, any organ I transplant into the young master would be just as natural as if it were born on him, without any complications.

From age ten to nineteen, I diligently served as his blood donor for nine years. Only when medical breakthroughs offered a cure did I step down from this duty and leave the Zong family. Six years have passed since then.

“Hurry up, come here!” The main gate of the Zong residence would never admit us; we could only enter through the side entrance. In the dream, the quick-footed secretary had long been waiting by the side gate, braving the wind and snow, and now his brows were furrowed with impatience.

“Coming, coming!” Father called back repeatedly, then turned to grab my hand, hurrying toward the side gate.

As soon as I entered, my eyes were drawn to the enormous bouquet displayed in the foyer. Each vibrant yellow flower, the size of a palm, was a variety I had never seen in the wild, standing lush and strong in this quiet house, showing no signs of decay. Even without getting close, I knew it must be a real flower.

In the dead of winter, when we hadn’t seen any fresh vegetables at home for a month, even the side door, usually reserved for servants, was adorned with beautiful flowers. For the first time in my life, I truly understood what “nobility” meant.

Led by the secretary, we walked along the passageway for servants, making several turns, taking two elevators, and walking for about ten minutes before finally stopping in front of a wooden door with exquisite carvings.

“Madam, we have arrived,” the secretary gently knocked, his tone respectful.

There was no sound coming from inside, but after a short while, the door opened from both sides.

Logically speaking, with my memory, I should remember every scene I saw when I entered the room that day, but strangely, I only remember Zong Yanlei.

The maid who opened the door, Butler Li by the fireplace, Madam Zong sipping tea, even my father and the secretary standing beside me, all have faded into blurred patches of color.

Only Zong Yanlei remains clearly in my mind.

He sat cross-legged in a high-backed chair, elbows resting on the armrests, chin propped up by the heels of his hands. His fingers and half his face were wrapped in bandages, and he looked rather listless. When we entered the room, he kept his eyes down until we stopped, at which point he lazily looked up at us.

One glance, and my breath hitched. My father’s admonitions were long forgotten; I stared absentmindedly at those magical eyes, marveling at their rare and beautiful color.

In my homeland, the Kingdom of Wo, there is a gemstone that, because it incorporates different mineral elements, displays a dreamy blue-green color under the sunlight, much like a dewdrop reflecting the azure river water while hanging from a pine needle. Therefore, it is called “Pine River Stone”.

My grandmother once owned a Pine River Stone ring, I had seen it. It was precisely because I had seen it that I was instantly transfixed.

It’s amazing that some people’s eyes can look like a gemstone, perfectly blending two colors.

Little did I know then that this was called heterochromia, the most insignificant genetic mutation within Zong Yanlei’s fragile body.

“What are you looking at? Do I look strange?” While I was still stunned, his eyes narrowed slightly. His tone wasn’t harsh, but it carried an air of authority. “How dare you look at me with such filthy eyes? You lowly commoner from the Kingdom of Wo.”

Back then, I was just a country bumpkin in the city, clueless about everything. This young master’s glare completely threw me off balance. I had just recited the “teachings” fluently, but in my panic, I could only think of one thing—to smile.

So, I stiffly forced a silly smile at Zong Yanlei.

The next second, his brows furrowed, and his eyes became even colder.

“You’re smiling…”

“Young master, please calm down. My son is a naive and inexperienced man. Please be magnanimous and don’t hold it against him!”

“Ugh!” The next second, before I could even react, my father next to me forcefully pulled my arm down to my knees, pressing my head down so that my whole face was buried in the carpet.

“…Jiang Man? Jiang Man, where are you? I brought you dinner…”

A lump formed in my throat, and I could vaguely hear voices from outside the dream. I knew I was about to wake up.

That’s good. If I hadn’t woken up, according to my memory, Zong Yanlei had kept me, but he gave me a big scare that very night.

He made me kneel beside his bed all night, holding a tray with the water he needed for the evening. I remember the bruises on my knees didn’t fade until a week later, and all this was simply because I dared to look at him a little longer when we first met.

Given that, I might as well look a little longer.

Resisting the force on my neck, I made a choice completely different from my real memories, struggling to lift my head and look at Zong Yanlei in the chair again.

But before I could see his face, the dream vanished completely, as if someone had abruptly pulled the plug.

I opened my eyes to find myself on warm earth, with scattered green leaves overhead, and intense sunlight seeping through the gaps, a stark contrast to my dream.

“Did you fall asleep again? Aren’t you afraid of getting sick from the stuffiness…”

I blinked, rubbed my throbbing right eye, and sat up, my voice hoarse as I called out, “I’m here, coming right now!”

Parting a clump of vines, at the entrance of the greenhouse, behind a mottled red lacquered wooden table, Xiang Ze took the food out of the thermos one by one. Glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, he gestured with his mouth and said, “There’s stewed beef brisket today. My mom made it specially. She stewed it for a long time because she said you like it.”

I smiled, took the chopsticks he handed me, and sat down across from him. “Please thank Aunt Kou for me.”

While I was eating, Xiang Ze sprawled out on a recliner, scrolling through his phone. I could hear news about the GTC tournament.

With advances in brain-computer interface technology, neuro-navigation pods were no longer unattainable luxuries for ordinary people. In recent years, they’d become popular among civilians. Simply by implanting a chip in the back of the neck, everyone can enter a “metaverse” that closely approximates reality.

GTC stands for Holo-Global Terrain Challenge, a racing competition created by Penglai that exists only in the metaverse and combines e-sports and extreme sports.

Because it takes place in a virtual world where death is not real, the race is much more thrilling and entertaining than traditional racing. Since its inception, it has become a sensation in Penglai and has become the most beloved annual event for the people of Penglai in recent years.

“Why has Zong Yanlei, the ‘Demon King’ of GTC, driver for the Sun God Racing Team, suddenly ‘gone silent’ in the past two years, with his performance plummeting and dropping him out of the points zone? This is “Racing Gossip,” let me answer that question for you right away!”

The chopsticks in my hand trembled upon hearing the name “Zong Yanlei.” Xiang Ze likes GTC so much that even if I didn’t pay attention, I had heard about and memorized all the information about the teams over the years.

Zong Yanlei became a professional GTC racer five years ago, the year after I left the Zong family. I thought I’d misheard the name and specifically looked him up online. The results… “The sole heir to the Sun God Group,” “The only son of the Royal Chief Press Secretary,” “The newlywed husband of Princess Chu Luo,” “The warrior who overcame a rare disease and rose from the ashes.” This series of titles immediately confirmed to me that it was him.

The Sun God Racing Team was established with full funding from the Sun God Group, the very enterprise owned by the Zong family. Initially, no one held high hopes for this young master born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Most dismissed him as merely dabbling in a passing fancy.

Who could have predicted that Zong Yanlei would surge forward with unstoppable momentum, winning the GTC championship for three consecutive years after becoming the main driver for Sun God, silencing all the doubters and pessimists of the past. With his aristocratic lineage and outstanding appearance, he was incredibly popular for a time. Many disliked him, but even more loved him. At his peak, his billboards were everywhere.

Unfortunately, everything came to a halt the year before last.

“…Insider scoop from someone in the know: Zong Yanlei’s former co-driver, navigator Lance, didn’t switch teams because of Maria Racing’s lucrative offer. He left because he couldn’t stand Zong Yanlei’s terrible temper and strict demands! The source claims that at one point, Lance was even under so much pressure that he developed alopecia areata…” (a disease that happens when the immune system attacks hair follicles and causes hair loss)

“Heh.” Xiang Ze suddenly sneered, “If I had such a high annual salary, I’d be happy to lose all the hair on my body, let alone alopecia areata!”

After leaving the Zong family six years ago, I returned to Zengcheng and have worked at Xiang Ze’s seedling nursery ever since. He only knew I’d spent some time in Baiyujing before, but he never asked what I did there, and I never told him.

“What window did the heavens shut on Zong Yanlei?” he asked me while continuing to watch the video. “Good looks, a wealthy background, and a princess wife… Oh, maybe the only flaw is that princess wife. Rumor has it their relationship wasn’t great, and they separated long ago. Now he lives with his son in Baiyujing, while the princess lives with their daughter in Xuanpu.”

His voice mingled with the background video.

“…Lance’s departure completely disrupted Zong Yanlei’s racing rhythm. GTC racing relies heavily on the synergy between driver and navigator…”

“Is that so?” I swallowed my food and replied casually, “You can’t take gossip tabloids at face value.”

“…Over two years, Zong Yanlei kept changing navigators, yet his results only worsened. With the new season approaching, the team manager grew so desperate they even posted public recruitment ads for a navigator…”

Xiang Ze snorted. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Why else wouldn’t they live together? Is their 180-square-meter king-size bed too cramped?”

No, it’s not that the bed is too cramped, it’s that the marriage of three people is a bit crowded.

Princess Penglai, whose surname was Chu and given name Luo, had been betrothed to Zong Yanlei since childhood. Yet they were far from a perfect match. The story is long, but it boils down to one thing, Zong Yanlei’s twin children weren’t his. 

I was there when the princess admitted she was pregnant with her bodyguard’s child before the wedding; I heard it all firsthand. In that situation, most people would never have gotten married. But these two were different; they not only got married, but they got married very quickly. I had barely left the Zong family when they were married. Eight months later, twins were born; the girl took the princess’s surname, Chu, and the boy took Zong Yanlei’s surname, Zong.

Such a proud and unyielding person is actually willing to raise someone else’s child. Who could resist praising his deep affection Then again, he made me deliver his love letters for so many years as a child. If he hadn’t cared, why would he have endured the pain of writing them himself?

Although I burned most of those letters, they never fell into the princess’s hands.

“Jiang Man, have you considered applying to be Zong Yanlei’s co-driver? Your navigation skills would be wasted not joining a professional racing team. I hear their co-drivers earn two million a year.”

I looked up and saw that he was looking at me. I pointed to my blind right eye with the tip of my chopsticks and said with a self-deprecating smile, “A lowly navigator, and a cripple at that?”

When he was eighteen, Zong Yanlei’s illness affected his eyes. I donated the cornea from one of my eyes to him. Later, due to improper care, that eye became inflamed and infected, developing white spots and turning into a hazy white patch. Sometimes, even I was frightened when I looked in the mirror, let alone others.

“…Can the former prodigy ever return to his peak? Let’s wait and see!”

Xiang Ze probably felt a bit ridiculous himself. He cleared his throat and awkwardly changed the subject.

“Are you free tonight? Join me at a race at ten o’clock.”

The “race” he referred to could only mean GTC, though not an official one.

The danger and thrill of GTC captivated many young people. Anything associated with “GTC” became a trend. Thus, underground races modeled after it emerged.

They weren’t as formal, were smaller in scale, and had all sorts of names, but they were generally referred to as “underground GTC.” These underground events satisfied young people’s yearning for GTC, offering them a chance to race on the track. Despite the mixed crowd, they were quite popular among car enthusiasts. 

Xiang Ze was one of the racers immersed in underground GTC.

Three years ago, he suddenly asked if I was interested in trying GTC and warmly invited me to be his co-driver. I knew nothing about racing and hadn’t even heard of a “co-driver” before that. But after his persistent pleas, I finally agreed to give it a try. 

Over the past three years, our win rate in every race we entered hovered around 70%, quite impressive. But precisely because it was so high, I no longer wanted to participate.

“You are gambling again?”

Penglai has two legal forms of gambling: Texas Hold’em poker and GTC. Whether official or underground races, GTC always has betting pools.

Half a year ago, when Xiang Ze and I raced together, he suddenly made uncharacteristic mistakes and lost. Something felt wrong, and after persistent questioning, he finally confessed he’d been betting on races.

“What money could I possibly make selling those flower pots? Look around Penglai, who isn’t betting?”

Another gambling addict.

In that moment, Xiang Ze’s figure almost overlapped with my father’s. After that, I stopped competing with him.

“No, no, I really quit.” Xiang Ze sat up abruptly, rubbing his hands pleadingly. “Just this once, I couldn’t find anyone else. We split the prize seven-three, no, nine-one in your favor?”

Ideally, I wouldn’t team up with him, but… I have a money-gobbling monster at home. That stomach of his must be bottomless, tiny body, huge appetite. My monthly salary barely covers his food. With the end of the month fast approaching, cash is tightest now. I even wondered if Xiang Ze had precisely timed his bonus proposal to exploit this.

“Fine. But I need to log off by midnight at the latest. Rui Rui cries if he wakes up and doesn’t see me.” After much hesitation, I agreed.

Xiang Ze’s face lit up. “Just send him to my mom’s place! She’d be thrilled to watch Rui Rui. My sister adores him too, she keeps asking when the little chubby one will come back.”

I politely declined: “How could I keep bothering Aunt Kou? Besides… since he calls me ‘Dad,’ I have to take responsibility for him.”

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Author’s note

Cyberpunk meets feudalism, progress collides with backwardness, both adjusted as the plot demands.

Expect a lot of flashback. Not for those who dislike them.