I Was a General in the Northern Song Dynasty

Pei Jingchen woke up in the biting cold. The humid air of the tropical rainforest in the 21st century seems to still stick to the skin, but in front of me is a brocade tent embroidered with lotus patterns, and the cool sandalwood lingers on the tip of my nose. The keen perception of the special forces told him that this was not the battlefield before his death. Strange memories came flooding back. Northern Song Dynasty. Three years to Taoism. The third son of the Pei family. Frail and sickly. Abandoned son of the family. Fiancée Su… "Third Young Master, are you awake?" The maid's deliberately lowered voice came from outside the tent, "The Eldest Young Master has sent word that if he refuses to go hunting today because he is sick, this year's monthly quota will really be deducted." Pei Jingchen sat up. This body was indeed weak, but the core strength of the special forces was still there. He looked at the blurry face in the bronze mirror—it was seventy percent similar to his own, but pale and thin, with timid eyes. "Tell eldest brother," he said, his voice hoarse yet calmer than ever before, "I'm going."