The Republic of Dawa, situated on the fringes of the Great Civilization Sphere, boasted thirteen administrative planets and hundreds of resource worlds. Having only achieved mid-tier civilization status a decade prior, it was nevertheless considered a significant power within the Omi Star System it inhabited.
In Mingzhou City, the second-largest metropolis in Dawa’s capital planet, Wul, an exceptionally strange event took place.
One night, a residential block in Mingzhou suddenly lost power. Although the supply was restored an hour later, the property management company was forced to pay exorbitant compensation, driving them to the brink of bankruptcy.
In one of the two-story houses within that complex, a youth of seventeen or eighteen lay unconscious in his room.
The boy was named Zhong Yun, currently receiving primary education. Both his parents were white-collar workers at major corporations, firmly establishing them as middle-class citizens who owned a home and a vehicle.
That evening, Zhong Yun had been deeply engrossed in the nation’s most popular game, Space Battles. Since the next day was a day off, he had intended to play non-stop until he dropped from sheer exhaustion.
In the game, he was piloting his 'Qiyun' against a fierce enemy assault. Right at the critical juncture, his vision abruptly went black, and consciousness deserted him.
When he next awoke, the 'Zhong Yun' breathing in the room was no longer the original one.
“Zhong Yun” let out a low groan and opened his eyes, scanning the surroundings. He felt as if his head were about to explode; the pain was so intense he hammered the floor with his fists.
A torrent of information surged into his mind, so overwhelming it brought him near agony.
“Who am I?”
“Am I Zhong Yun?”
“No. I am not Zhong Yun.”
“Then, who am I?”
…………
Just as countless chaotic thoughts flashed through his mind, the door burst open with a loud bang. A woman rushed in, panicked. Seeing Zhong Yun sprawled on the floor, she cried out, “Xiao Yun!”
She rushed to his side, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Xiao Yun, what’s wrong? Don’t scare your mother…” Her voice broke off, and she dissolved into racking sobs.
Feeling himself enveloped in an embrace, Zhong Yun opened his eyes and saw an incredibly familiar face, though it was currently streaked with tears, betraying boundless worry and heartbreaking concern.
A warm current flowed through Zhong Yun’s heart, and he murmured involuntarily, “Mom, my head hurts so much.”
A strong, large hand rested on Zhong Yun’s head. He tilted his head up slightly and saw a stern, square-jawed face, the brow deeply furrowed now, displaying profound anxiety.
“Xiao Yun, it’s alright. I’ve already called the hospital. The doctor will be here immediately.”
His father’s voice possessed a reassuring magic. Zhong Yun weakly nodded, nestled in his mother’s arms, and closed his eyes; the throbbing in his head seemed to ease slightly.
Before long, the ambulance arrived. With practiced efficiency, the paramedics loaded Zhong Yun into the vehicle and sped toward the hospital.
Outside the emergency room, Zhong Pingjiang and Yun Rong waited anxiously. Zhong Yun was their only son; they couldn't bear to think what they would do if anything serious happened to him.
Yun Rong paced the corridor distractedly, glancing repeatedly toward the emergency room doors. The sharp tap-tap of her high heels striking the white floor echoed incessantly.
Zhong Pingjiang sat rigidly on the adjacent chair, his expression like still water, yet the tendons on the back of his hands gripping the armrests bulged, betraying his internal tension.
Half an hour later, the red light above the emergency room door extinguished, and the doors swung open, revealing a cluster of figures in white coats. Zhong Yun’s parents rushed forward to meet the doctor leading the group.
“Doctor Han, how is my son?” Yun Rong asked anxiously.
Doctor Han removed his mask and smiled. “Mrs. Zhong, your son is fine. He merely suffered from mental exhaustion. A few days of proper rest will be all he needs.”
The Zhong couple let out huge sighs of relief. “It’s good that he’s alright. Thank you so much, Doctor Han.”
“No trouble at all; it’s my duty.” Doctor Han reminded them to ensure Zhong Yun rested well before departing.
The next day, Zhong Pingjiang and his wife brought their son home. Aside from looking somewhat listless, Zhong Yun seemed perfectly fine. Upon returning, he immediately went back to his room.
Seeing that he was recovered, Zhong Pingjiang and Yun Rong glanced at the time and headed back to work. They trusted the smart butler to manage the house; it was the butler who had notified them the moment something happened to Zhong Yun the previous night, allowing them to arrive promptly.
Inside the room, Zhong Yun lay on the bed, surveying the room that felt both familiar and alien, his mind a complete mess.
He was no longer the original Zhong Yun; he was an ordinary nineteen-year-old youth from Earth who had just been accepted into university.
He distinctly remembered leaving an internet café the previous night, cycling home, and then, in the blink of an eye, finding himself hurled into this damned Republic of Dawa, transformed into a damned third-year primary school student.
Could it be transmigration? The thought made his heart hammer. The more he considered it, the more plausible it seemed. This was certainly no dream, nor a hallucination; only transmigration could account for all this.
He pinched his arm, feeling the sharp sting of pain, and spat out an oath, “Damn it all, I’ve crossed over too.”
He scrambled off the bed and walked toward a large mirror on the wall. Reflected back was a thin youth.
Thank heavens, he was still of East Asian descent. Zhong Yun was quite satisfied. Although not handsome, at least his features were balanced; he hadn’t been transformed into some hideous monstrosity.
From this day forward, I am Zhong Yun, and Zhong Yun is me. He made his solemn declaration.
Once the initial excitement faded, a very practical concern surfaced: In this highly advanced nation, how was he supposed to survive?
The thought was rather depressing. Others might transmigrate to worlds of magic or back to ancient times, where even an illiterate person could pose as a poet or a scientist. But here, in an era where starships could perform spatial jumps, his knowledge as a university student might not even surpass that of a local primary schooler. How could he possibly manage?
The guy whose body he had inhabited was neither the son of a major tycoon nor some earth-shattering genius. He was utterly ordinary, completely mediocre, a student whose grades perpetually hovered just above the passing line—a good-for-nothing.
After much deliberation, the best possible outcome for his future seemed to be getting an ordinary white-collar job at a mediocre company, with the constant fear of being laid off, thanks to his parents’ connections.
The more he thought about it, the gloomier he felt, until he finally gave up trying to figure it out. A boat rights itself when it nears the turning point of the bridge. He would deal with the future when it arrived. At worst, he could become a professional gamer.
The thought of professional gaming reminded Zhong Yun of something critically important. He hurried back to the bed and called out, “Xiao Qi.”
“Xiao Yun, you’re back,” a sweet voice replied. Immediately, the room’s scenery shifted, transforming into a spacious hall lined with numerous doors.
Having inherited the memories of the previous Zhong Yun, he knew this was incredibly advanced virtual technology. He excitedly looked around, touching everything, utterly astonished by the degree of realism. He couldn't detect that it was entirely fabricated.
A small sprite, about the size of half a palm, flew up to his face. “Xiao Yun, your mind hasn't recovered yet; you can’t play games.”
This was his smart assistant, the steward of his virtual space, designed by Zhong Yun based on the image of his dream lover and named Xiao Qi.
“I know,” Zhong Yun replied, slightly disappointed. He had been itching to experience the virtual games he’d always dreamed of. However, since he wasn't yet an adult, he couldn't unlock all permissions, and under these constraints, he couldn't violate Xiao Qi’s limitations.
Even without games, there were other entertainments. He was just about to check out a movie to experience true immersion.
Suddenly, Zhong Yun froze. Next to the door leading to the movie theater, there was a door that hadn't been there before. “Xiao Qi, when did I add a new connection?”
Xiao Qi replied, “According to the records, this connection was added at 11:13 PM last night, precisely before the power outage.”
I was playing Space Battles then. Could it be a virus? Zhong Yun pondered. “Xiao Qi, scan it. Is it a virus?”
The body of Xiao Qi, hovering in mid-air, flickered. “Unidentifiable.”
Damn it. Could it really be a virus? This latest model, the Phantom 5000, was a gift from his mother for his seventeenth birthday; he couldn't let some wretched virus destroy it.
“Xiao Qi, delete it.” Zhong Yun didn’t want to take the risk. Better safe than sorry.
Data flashed across Xiao Qi’s eyes. Suddenly, its body began to tremble, and it started emitting a red glow.
Zhong Yun was both furious and anxious; he knew this was the sign of a viral intrusion.
The red light emanating from Xiao Qi intensified until its entire body turned crimson.
“Xiao Qi! Are you alright? Xiao Qi…”
Zhong Yun fretted helplessly nearby. He had absolutely no way to intervene; neither he nor the original Zhong Yun was anything more than a complete digital novice.
Two minutes later, Xiao Qi blazed with a light so bright it forced Zhong Yun to shut his eyes. When he looked again, the red light had dissipated, and Xiao Qi had returned to its original appearance, yet it felt subtly different.
Zhong Yun called out nervously, “Xiao Qi…”
“Please call me ZER,” the voice emerging from Xiao Qi was no longer sweet and feminine, but a cold, mechanical monotone.
Zhong Yun swallowed hard and asked, “What happened to Xiao Qi?”
“She has been temporarily deactivated. I am replacing her now.” ZER finished, then flew toward the door connected to the so-called ‘virus’ and opened it. “Come.”
Zhong Yun’s eyes darted around. He took a few steps back. “Um, I’m tired. I think I need to rest for a while. Can you take me out?”
Xiao Qi: “Your physical fatigue level is 10. State: Good. Come here.”
Xiao Qi’s vacant eyes sent a chill down Zhong Yun’s spine. He swallowed again. “What am I coming there for?”
“Your physical fitness level is too low. Training is mandatory.”
P: Recommend a book, Rebirth of a Splendid Life (Book ID 1226184). It is a rebirth/superpower genre; check it out if you are interested.