Eternal Life Begins with Learning

Chu Mu strolled leisurely down the street, occasionally responding to greetings from people he knew and some he didn’t.

The original owner’s memories spanned nearly two decades, a truly immense amount of information. For Chu Mu, it was impossible to absorb all of it in an instant.

Due to his brain’s self-preservation instincts, those twenty years of memories were like a library. They were all there, but accessing a specific memory required a trigger. Only then could he digest it piece by piece.

Take the people he’d just encountered, for example. Before seeing them with his own eyes, they were complete strangers to him. He wouldn’t recognize them unless he consciously tried to recall them, thereby triggering one of the original owner’s memories.

This situation naturally made Chu Mu all the more cautious in this new era.

Even when a memory from the past two decades was triggered, it didn’t become perfectly clear in an instant. It all took time to adapt to and digest.

All along the way, he was met with smiling faces. He responded to each greeting while slowly digesting the original owner’s memories and, little by little, coming to understand this new age.

Following the original owner’s memories, he walked for about fifteen minutes before finally stopping in front of a Medicine Hall.

’Mingxin Hall.’

Standing outside the Medicine Hall, Chu Mu gazed at the plaque hanging over the entrance and silently recited the two words in his mind.

He was literate, and yet he was not.

He could read, of course—the Han characters of his past life. But this world... though it strongly resembled the ancient eras he knew, the script, unfortunately, was not Chinese.

At least, in every character he laid eyes on, he couldn’t find the slightest trace of a connection to the script he knew.

The original owner, moreover, was completely illiterate and couldn’t even write his own name.

As for how he knew the name on the plaque was "Mingxin Hall"... well, that’s just what everyone called the place.

For all he knew, he could have misheard the name, and it might have been something that only sounded like "Mingxin."

’I was a college student, for goodness’ sake, and now I’m illiterate...’

After grumbling to himself, Chu Mu gave the plaque one last look, shook his head, and stepped into the Medicine Hall without further thought.

Elder Li of the Medicine Hall was one of the few people Chu Mu could consider an acquaintance in this world.

After all, when he had first arrived in this world, the original owner had fainted, and it was Elder Li who had come to treat him. The old physician had even made house calls for two days straight.

Afterward, Chu Mu had been busy with the funeral, so Elder Li hadn’t visited again. He had simply instructed him to come to the Medicine Hall for a follow-up appointment once everything was settled.

Although he didn’t feel like anything was seriously wrong with him, it was best to trust an expert. He couldn’t very well ignore a physician’s instructions.

The Medicine Hall wasn’t very large, and its layout was quite similar to the traditional Chinese apothecaries he had visited in his past life. The thick, pungent aroma of herbs was identical as well.

Elder Li, the physician Chu Mu had met a few times, sat alone behind the counter, intently reading a well-worn book.

"Brother Mu, you’re here..."

Elder Li the Physician set down his book and looked up at Chu Mu.

Chu Mu smiled in acknowledgment and approached the counter.

"...Have a seat."

Elder Li gestured toward a chair at a nearby table. Once Chu Mu was seated, the physician rose and came over to take his pulse.

After checking his pulse, Elder Li took Chu Mu’s arm and kneaded it a few times before speaking. "It’s nothing serious, just some strained muscles and tendons..."

He paused, then asked, "Brother Mu, have you been practicing martial arts?"

"Just some amateurish forms. I was practicing in my spare time."

Hearing this, Elder Li nodded.

"If you’re going to practice martial arts, you mustn’t overdo it. Overexertion is harmful, and besides, your constitution is already a bit weak, Brother Mu..."

"How about this: I’ll write you a prescription to replenish your qi and nourish your essence. You need to rest and recover properly."

With that, Elder Li lifted his brush, dipped it in ink, and after a moment of contemplation, began to write out a prescription.

An apprentice at the side quickly came forward. The moment the prescription was finished, he took it and began pulling herbs from the various cabinets.

Meanwhile, Chu Mu remained seated at the table, chatting with Elder Li. Or rather, it was mostly Elder Li the Physician giving instructions, while Chu Mu the patient listened quietly.

In his past life, Chu Mu hadn’t known much about traditional Chinese medicine, but he had spent years trying to make a living in Yue Province. The practice was deeply ingrained in the culture there, so he had picked up a fair bit of knowledge through osmosis.

Now, listening to Elder Li and combining it with the original owner’s memories, Chu Mu realized that the Medical Skill practiced in this hall seemed no different from the traditional Chinese medicine of his past life. It was all based on the same theories of Yin Yang Five Elements and Essence, Qi, and Spirit, and even the medicinal ingredients were identical.

"Take this prescription once in the morning and once at night. After taking it, you should move around a bit..."

The thought was fleeting, and before Chu Mu could dwell on it, Elder Li’s voice pulled him back.

Chu Mu didn’t dwell on it. ’He’d already transmigrated; what was a similar medical system in the grand scheme of things? There could be any number of explanations. If I obsess over every little detail, I’ll never find any peace.’

Once the prescription was filled and he had paid nearly ten silver, Chu Mu didn’t linger, leaving the Medicine Hall with the herbs in hand.

The morning was over, and the foot traffic on the street had picked up. This time of day was typically the most boisterous period in Qinghe County.

Peasants from nearby villages coming for the market, town merchants and residents, and boisterous children filled the streets. Occasionally, a carriage or sedan chair with servants clearing a path would pass by, along with on-duty soldiers of the Patrol Department. The streets bustled with activity.

With his body still aching, his plan to report to the Inspection Department had to be put on hold. Thus, Chu Mu found himself with time on his hands.

He strolled leisurely down the street, observing the scenes of daily life in this ancient town and comparing them with the memories swirling in his mind.

His pace wasn’t fast—not that he could have moved quickly with his aching muscles.

As he meandered along, stopping here and there, Chu Mu managed to pick up a rather useful piece of information.

The food sold on the streets, from grain sold by weight to prepared items like steamed buns, all seemed remarkably cheap.

A steamed bun could be bought for a single copper. A *shi* of unhusked rice—one hundred *jin* by this era’s measure—cost only seventy or eighty coppers. That meant a single *jin* of rice was less than one copper.

For an average person, two or three coppers at most would cover a full day’s food.

Such low grain prices were clear proof that, at least in Nanshan Town, there was a massive food surplus.

He knew from the original owner’s memories that Nanshan Town was built around the Nanshan Iron Ore mine. Nestled among mountains, it was by no means a major agricultural hub.

For a non-agricultural town to have such a food surplus offered a glimpse into the bigger picture: the people of Qinghe County must be living quite well.

After all, one copper was the smallest denomination of paper currency. If a single copper had that much purchasing power, then no matter how poor the common folk were, their lives couldn’t be too terrible.

If other regions were anything like this, then the realm of Great Chu was experiencing a golden age of peace and prosperity rarely seen in the annals of history.