Zongzheng the Great Goose Transmigrates to Ancient Times

Outside a dilapidated residence on the outskirts of Qiantang County, most of the old elm seeds had been beaten down by the night rain, sticking to the mud and turning into a dark green paste. The door of the west wing creaked as Zongzheng Da'e sprang upright from the straw bed, cold sweat instantly soaking through his rough hemp shirt. His nostrils were full of mildew and the bitterness of herbal medicine, mingled with the earthy stench of rain-soaked soil. The unfamiliar smell churned his stomach. He instinctively reached beside his pillow, but his smartphone, which had been with him for three years, was gone. The night before, he had been in his hotel room, poring over the water-pressure data for a new smart toilet seat in a product tester’s report. The client was a tough one, demanding that the description of the “pulse mode” feel more exquisite than a first kiss. “Argh…” A dull ache throbbed at the back of his head. He reached up to rub it, and his fingertips brushed a wound wrapped in hemp cloth, sticky as if it had scabbed over.