Lin Xiao had been awake for three days now.
He had eaten congee with five different toppings (all bland), taken six naps, declined three invitations to royal lessons (by pretending to cough blood), and spent a total of twenty-seven hours lying in the sunlight like a warm, pampered house cat.
In short: perfect record.
His goals remained unchanged:
Avoid work.
Avoid politics.
Avoid thinking too hard.
Secure honey cakes.
Live longer than a mayfly.
But just as he curled up under a silk blanket for his fifth nap of the morning, something dinged inside his head.
[Congratulations, Host! You are now the exclusive owner of the “Cross-World Agricultural and Lazy Life Support System”!]
Lin Xiao blinked. He sat up slowly, suspiciously. “…What in the steamed bun was that?”
[System: Hello, Host! I am your supportive, non-judgmental, high-efficiency farming and trading system. You may call me—whatever you like. I recommend: Your Majesty, Oh Great Provider, or Master Chef.]
Lin Xiao: “…How about ‘Butler?’”
[Accepted. System will now respond to the name Butler.]
“Butler,” Lin Xiao whispered. “Explain. Why are you in my brain? Am I hallucinating?”
[No, Host. Upon soul transmigration, you qualified for our Retirement Living Plan, unlocked via ‘Overworked Martyr Reincarnation Route.’ You now have access to: A virtual farmland (for fun, not labor). A one-way portal to another realm. Barter exchange with the Original Lin Xiao. Gourmet recipes from three timelines. Weather immunity for naps.]
“…Did you say portal?”
[Yes, Host. The other Lin Xiao—let’s call him ‘Prince Lin Xiao’—is in a drought-stricken parallel dynasty. He can receive your goods but cannot send anything back.]
Lin Xiao paused.
“…So you’re telling me,” he whispered, “that somewhere out there… another me is starving in a dusty backyard… while I eat buns and lie in sunlight?”
[Correct.]
“…And I can send him food, clothes, and tools. But I don’t have to go anywhere or do anything strenuous?”
[Correct again.]
“…And I can plant crops and raise chickens in a magical space, but only when I feel like it?”
[Ten points, Host.]
Lin Xiao slowly lay back down and smiled at the ceiling.
“Finally,” he said, “a job made for me.”
That afternoon, while everyone believed he was meditating on Confucian classics, Lin Xiao entered the System Space. He expected something cold, mechanical, full of glowing symbols and confusing numbers.
Instead, he got a warm patch of green farmland, birds chirping, and a hammock between two peach trees.
“…This is paradise,” he whispered.
A popup appeared.
[Beginner Gift Package Unlocked! You have received:
10kg premium rice seeds
5kg wheat seeds
3 laying hens (virtual, low maintenance)
2 ducks (noisy, optional)
1 starter hut with a bamboo mat and tea kettle]
Lin Xiao almost cried.
“Butler,” he whispered, “you understand me.”
[Of course, Host. I am programmed to serve Salted Fish Lifestyle Type B: Lying Noble (Subtype: Ancient Lazy Prince).]
He wandered through the field, waving at a chicken who was busy pecking at invisible worms.
“So, I just… farm here, and send the food over there?”
[Correct. Every time you grow, harvest, or barter something, the original Lin Xiao in Parallel World receives a matched quantity. He will also be able to cook it—assuming he doesn’t burn it.]
“What if I send… say, mooncakes?”
[Then mooncakes will appear in his basket.]
“What if I send… a silk blanket and duck-shaped pillow?”
[Then he will sleep like a pampered imperial cat.]
Lin Xiao rubbed his hands together. “Let the lazy revolution begin.”
Meanwhile, outside the dreamland of his farming system, the Yuan Imperial Palace was in chaos. In the absence of full court duties, Lin Xiao’s name had been mentioned in the gossip circles of every maid, eunuch, and concubine.
“…He no longer screams at night?”
“He asked for tofu pudding but didn’t throw it at anyone!”
“I heard he meditated for five hours and murmured ‘balance… peace… fish…’”
The Empress was both relieved and suspicious. The Emperor was deeply intrigued.
The Crown Prince, meanwhile, had taken to shadowing Lin Xiao’s courtyard like a nervous teacher watching a sleeping child.
And that afternoon, as Lin Xiao lay on his couch, fanning himself with a lotus leaf, he heard the unmistakable sound of his elder brother’s boots.
“Oh no,” Lin Xiao whispered. “Work is coming.”
The sound of heavy boots drew closer, loud and clear over the hum of cicadas outside the courtyard.
Lin Xiao didn’t panic—he rolled over.
With the elegance of a noodle being flipped in a bowl, he draped one arm over his eyes and let out a peaceful breath. “I am at peace with the world. The world should return the favor,” he murmured.
A maid scurried into the room, nearly slipping on the polished floor.
“Your Highness! His Royal Highness the Crown Prince—”
“I’m asleep,” Lin Xiao said.
“You’re talking, Your Highness…”
“Sleep-talking,” he corrected. “Part of my advanced spiritual healing.”
Before the maid could argue further, the doors opened with a regal creak.
Inside, Lin Fengyuan—the Crown Prince of the Yuan Dynasty, heir to the dragon throne, firstborn of the Empress, golden boy of the realm… and currently wearing a thundercloud for a face. “Fifth Brother,” Lin Fengyuan said slowly, narrowing his eyes.
Lin Xiao adjusted his arm slightly so only one eye peeked out. “…Oh. Eldest Brother. What an… unexpected sunshine.”
“Don’t call me sunshine,” the Crown Prince said flatly. “And why are you lying there like a retired farmer?”
“I am a retired farmer,” Lin Xiao sighed. “In here.” He patted his chest. “In soul.”
Fengyuan did not look amused. “You’ve skipped your lessons for three days, refused medicine from the palace physician, and told Eunuch Zhao you were allergic to loud voices. And now I find you here, dressed in robes that aren’t even belted—”
“I freed my belly,” Lin Xiao interrupted. “It breathes better this way.”
The Crown Prince stared at him. “Have you gone mad?”
“Brother,” Lin Xiao whispered. “What if I told you… I have finally achieved enlightenment?”
Fengyuan blinked. “You what?”
Lin Xiao sat up very slowly, hands arranged in a meditative mudra (that he invented on the spot). His tousled hair and dreamy expression would have sold the performance to a weaker mind.
“I fell into a pond, hovered between life and death, and in that liminal space between worlds…” He paused dramatically, “…I met an old man riding a turtle.”
Fengyuan blinked again.
“He told me three things,” Lin Xiao continued. “One: sleep more. Two: stress less. Three: stop eating anything that takes more than one pot to cook.”
“...That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
The Crown Prince exhaled heavily. “You were almost assassinated, Lin Xiao.”
“Oh yes,” Lin Xiao said brightly. “Very rude. Terrible hospitality. I don’t recommend drowning, by the way. It ruins your appetite.”
Fengyuan looked at him long and hard.
And then said the four most terrifying words Lin Xiao had ever heard.
“…I’ll call the physician.”
That night, when the palace quieted down and after the imperial physicians gave Lin Xiao a diagnosis “lethargic spiritual detachment,” Lin Xiao snuck back into his System space.
“Butler,” he hissed, “is the duck ready?”
[Duck is fed, bathed, and mildly resentful.]
In the small wooden pen inside the virtual space, two white ducks waddled in circles, making discontented honking noises. Lin Xiao pointed at the plumper one.
“That one. Send that one to Prince Lin Xiao.”
[Duck dispatched to Alternate Realm.]
“And send with it: one blanket, two rice dumplings, a jar of chili sauce, and a hand-written note that says: ‘Be strong. Eat well. We are not dead yet.’”
[Delivery sent.]
Lin Xiao sat on a small stool under the stars and sighed contentedly.
Somewhere in a drought-ridden, backwater realm, his other self was probably fighting off bandits with a spoon.
And here he was, enjoying the quiet.
But just as he picked up a virtual rice bun for a late-night snack, a soft voice echoed inside the space.
“…You.”
Lin Xiao dropped the bun.
“Butler?” he asked.
[That was not me.]
“…Original Lin Xiao?” he asked, heart thumping.
There was silence. Then—
“…You sent me a duck.”
Lin Xiao gasped. “You can hear me?!”
“…You sent me a duck. It bit me. And pooped on the only clean blanket.”
“Ungrateful!” Lin Xiao squawked. “That’s a high-quality duck! It’s got noble blood!”
There was a pause. Then, “…The chili sauce was good,” the voice mumbled.
Lin Xiao grinned. “You’re welcome. Keep the duck. It’ll grow on you. Name him Commander Quack.”
“…You’re strange.”
“So are you,” Lin Xiao replied cheerfully. “But together, we are strong.”
And just like that, the voice faded.
[System Notice: Temporary cross-dimensional communication achieved through emotional resonance. Duration limited.]
“…Emotional resonance, huh?” Lin Xiao muttered. “Guess he’s more annoyed than starving now. Progress.”
The next evening, Lin Xiao was summoned to a small family dinner with the Emperor and Empress.
He knew two things: He could not say no. and he had to lie like a professional to avoid homework.
Dressed in slightly wrinkled robes, he arrived just in time to sit between his two sisters—elegant, sharp-tongued Lin Mingyue and soft-spoken, dagger-wielding Lin Huixin.
The Emperor, Lin Taizhen, was already seated. He looked regal, wise, and completely exasperated.
“Fifth son,” he said slowly. “You seem… changed.”
“I have found purpose, Father,” Lin Xiao said serenely.
“…In… sleep?”
“Exactly.”
The Empress, elegant and cold—arched an eyebrow. “And what purpose do you hope to achieve lying in bed all day?”
“Longevity,” Lin Xiao answered without blinking. “My goal is to outlive everyone who tries to make me work.”
His sisters both coughed violently. The Emperor stared at him like one might examine a decorative vase with a crack.
“I will not fight for the throne,” Lin Xiao added quickly. “Nor will I marry, nor scheme, nor aspire to anything except tea, food, and an occasional walk in the moonlight.”
“Is this your final answer?” the Emperor asked, unimpressed.
“Absolutely,” Lin Xiao said proudly.
And thus, the Fifth Prince officially declared himself the Salted Fish of the Yuan Dynasty.
To the relief of his brothers, the confusion of the court, and the growing curiosity of a distant, the starving version of himself—who, at that very moment, was trying to wrangle a duck into a soup pot.
............
In the official records of the Yuan Dynasty, this day was remembered for three reasons:
1. The weather was unreasonably sunny.
2. The Fifth Prince declared that “ambition was a disease of the overworked.”
3. The Minister of Rites spilled hot tea on his own lap during court.
But let’s rewind just a little.
Lin Xiao had barely recovered from the “family dinner interrogation” when a small army of eunuchs arrived at his courtyard the next morning.
They brought him robes. Scrolls. Official documents. Even a ceremonial headband he was fairly certain was last used by a goat.
“Your Highness,” Eunuch Zhao wheezed as he laid out an inkstone, “His Majesty has graciously decided to assign you… morning lessons.”
Lin Xiao squinted at the man over the edge of his pillow. “I already have morning lessons.”
Zhao blinked. “You… do?”
“Sleep,” Lin Xiao said gravely. “I study the wisdom of dreams. Every morning. Without fail.”
“…These lessons are conducted in the Hall of Cultivation.”
Lin Xiao rolled onto his back. “Exactly. That’s what I call my bed.”
Meanwhile, in the Golden Throne Room…
The ministers were confused. Which wasn’t rare—some of them were confused on a good day when someone sneezed in the wrong direction.
But today’s confusion was special.
“Your Majesty,” the Minister of Personnel said delicately, “you’ve summoned the Fifth Prince to join the Imperial Court in three days’ time?”
“Yes,” the Emperor replied, eyes scanning a memorial scroll.
“…Forgive this minister, but… is that wise?”
The Emperor looked up. “Explain.”
“Well,” the minister said, adjusting his sleeves nervously, “the Fifth Prince… no longer attempts to bribe his teachers, has stopped forging sick notes, and has not run away to the marketplace in over a week.”
“This is… commendable?”
“That’s what we thought too,” the minister said miserably, “until we realized he wasn’t being obedient—he simply gave up.”
There was a pause.
“He told his tutor yesterday,” the minister continued, voice barely above a whisper, “that he considers education a ‘cultural suggestion, not a mandate.’”
Several officials gasped.
Another leaned forward in horror. “He said that to the Grand Tutor?”
“No, to a chicken in the courtyard,” the minister admitted. “But the Grand Tutor was within earshot.”
There was a long silence.
The Emperor slowly set his scroll aside.
“…And what, pray tell, has he been doing?”
“Sleeping, Your Majesty,” someone squeaked.
“Staring at clouds.”
“Refusing to wear shoes.”
“Yesterday he hosted a tea ceremony using melon rinds for cups—”
“I’m sorry,” the Emperor interrupted, “what?”
“Melon rinds, Your Majesty.”
The Empress, who had been listening from behind a lattice screen, finally spoke.
“Perhaps we should simply allow him to enjoy his leisure,” she said smoothly. “After all… a quiet prince is a non-threatening prince to the nation.”
The Emperor tapped his fingers on the table. “That is true.”
There was a collective sigh of relief—cut short by a booming voice from the main entrance.
“I heard my dear Fifth Brother is enlightened now!” said Crown Prince Lin Fengyuan, striding in with the energy of a man who had not slept since the last dynasty.
The Emperor groaned. “Fengyuan…”
“I’ve come to recommend him for the Agriculture Oversight Council,” Fengyuan said cheerfully.
“Why?”
“Because he claims to talk to ducks, and I want to see what happens.”
Back in the Fifth Prince’s courtyard, Lin Xiao sat beneath a blooming crabapple tree with a parasol over his head and a rice cracker in hand. He stared into space, content.
[Daily farming report available.]
“I haven’t planted anything,” Lin Xiao muttered.
[Exactly. You’ve failed your daily quota.]
“You’re a system,” Lin Xiao said, “not my landlord.”
[Correction: I am your farming and barter system. I have calculated 17 activities you could engage in to increase productivity.]
“I choose sleep,” Lin Xiao said.
[That is not on the list.]
“I choose to delete the list,” he said, biting his cracker.
A duck waddled up beside him—the same one he’d named Commander Quack before sending its twin to the alternate world. This one had somehow become a local fixture in the courtyard, waddling about like it owned the place.
Lin Xiao squinted at it.
“You and I are both freeloaders,” he said.
The duck quacked.
“Do you think they’ll let me fake my own disappearance?” Lin Xiao wondered aloud. “Say I went on a spiritual journey to the southern mountains.”
The duck flapped its wings.
“…Right, too much work,” he agreed.
[System Alert: You have 3 unopened parcels from Alternate World.]
“Oho?” Lin Xiao perked up.
[Parcel 1: A carved spoon. Parcel 2: A handmade map of foraging spots. Parcel 3: A note that reads: ‘Your duck bit another child. But the chili sauce sold well. Thanks, I guess.’]
Lin Xiao beamed. “My other self is thriving. And so is the chili.”
[Barter System unlocked new trade window: Realm-to-Realm Marketplace.]
Lin Xiao nearly choked on his cracker.
“…What’s that?”
[You can now send and receive handmade goods from the alternate realm. Only non-metal, non-weaponized items permitted.]
“I want duck eggs,” he declared immediately.
[Request sent.]
..........
That evening, in the private study of the Empress, a quiet meeting took place.
Present were: the Empress herself, her four sons (including the Crown Prince), and the two daughters of Noble Concubine Xiang—Lin Mingyue and Lin Huixin.
“It is no longer amusing,” the Empress said coldly. “The Fifth Prince is drawing attention.”
“To be fair,” Mingyue said lazily, “he’s doing it by doing nothing. That’s an art.”
“He made tea with pond water,” Huixin added. “Then told a servant it had healing qi.”
Fengyuan sighed. “He’s not dangerous. Just… excessively uninterested.”
“People are beginning to whisper,” the Empress snapped. “That his ‘sloth’ is a clever ruse.”
“Do you think it’s a ruse?” Mingyue asked.
They all turned to Fengyuan.
He considered.
“...The man used a duck as an envoy. I don’t know what to think.”
There was silence.
Then they all nodded in agreement.
By the end of the week, Lin Xiao had successfully:
Avoided five scroll-reading sessions.
Convincingly played dead to avoid archery practice.
Sent a care package of steamed buns and a drawing of a happy carrot to his alternate self.
Named all his ducks after ancient philosophers.
The Crown Prince, frustrated beyond reason, delivered a final threat.
“If you don’t attend tomorrow’s lesson,” he said, “I’ll have the musicians practice next to your courtyard.”
Lin Xiao yawned. “I like music.”
“At sunrise.”
Lin Xiao’s eyes snapped open.
“You’re evil,” he whispered.
The Crown Prince smiled. “I learned from the best.”
Lin Xiao considered this.
Then laid back down, stared at the sky, and whispered softly:
“…I should’ve transmigrated into a cat.”
