บท 1: Died a CEO, Woke Up a Slave
B City's business district was bustling with the lunchtime crowd. Yan Zheyun stepped out of the revolving doors of Yan Technology's skyscraper and headed towards the busy road junction. Along the way, he bumped into some of his new employees, and all of them greeted him with polite variations of 'Good afternoon, CEO Yan' or 'Please enjoy your meal, CEO Yan'.
CEO. Not Little CEO, which was what his father's subordinates liked to teasingly call him whenever he dropped by the main office to shadow his father and learn the ropes. No, Yan Zheyun had used his savings and investments to turn his modest tech startup into a multinational public-listed company, and all at the modest age of 25. And while he did have the advantage of having one of the wealthiest parents in the country, he hadn't really relied on them either, except for one or two helpful contacts.
Who could fault him for utilising all the resources he had at hand?
Despite that little head start, there was no doubt that Yan Zheyun's success was the result of his hard work. He had slogged away day and night to build the foundations of Yan Tech from the ground up, juggling this with the demanding coursework of his programming degree and the rigorous internship his father had put him through. But everything had paid off eventually and Yan Zheyun had graduated as valedictorian and earned his father's pride. And on top of that, with his dream company up and ready to go.
Technically, as the founder and head of the company, Yan Zheyun had already been making all the executive decisions from day one. But today was the day he officially granted himself the title of CEO and moved into the shiny office right at the top, with its ceiling-to-floor windows and panoramic view. His parents had insisted on furnishing it for him too, as a congratulatory present, and had chosen his favourite style of modern chic.
From now onwards, he was going to sit in there every day and work even harder to fulfil his ambitions.
Yan Zheyun was in such an amazing mood that he didn't even mind having to come out and fetch his own coffee, because his poor harried secretary and personal assistant just had no time. They were buried in so much nitty-gritty logistics on launch day that they seemed stuck in a permanent loop between his desk, their desk, and the photocopier room. In fact, he was feeling so charitable that he decided to treat them to lunch as thanks for the effort they have put into supporting his endeavours.
The pedestrian signal at the junction turned green. Yan Zheyun was so preoccupied with trying to decide whether to takeaway food from the coffee shop itself or go a bit further to the row of restaurants down the road, that he failed to notice the people around him vanishing one by one like he had walked into a different dimension.
It was only when a mechanical buzzing crackled in his ears that he realised he was standing alone in the middle of the road and that there was no one else in his surrounding vicinity. The thronging crowds of office workers had mysteriously disappeared, along with all other noise in the background except for the strange static. It felt like Yan Zheyun was suddenly the only person in the world.
A looming sensation of dread crept up on him but he willed himself to stay calm. There had to be some rational explanation for this. Yan Zheyun didn't believe in the supernatural and was confident that this was just another problem to be solved, albeit the most bizarre he had ever encountered—
This certainty was quickly shaken when a robotic voice boomed through the air, its weird hollow quality echoing throughout the narrow spaces between the buildings like a dystopic public service announcement.
[BUG REPORT #193842347: OTHERWORLD SOUL DETECTED. INITIATING DEPORTATION SEQUENCE.]
Bug report? Otherworld what?
But Yan Zheyun was given no time to ponder. The next thing he heard was a blare of car horns and a bloodcurdling screech of tires. Pain exploded throughout his body and he lost consciousness.
——————————
It was a struggle to open his eyes. It was a struggle to do anything come to think of it. Even twitching his fingers felt like a task for a better man.
What had happened to him? The details of the incident were fuzzy around the edges, but bit by bit, as the thick fog in Yan Zheyun's brain cleared up, he managed to piece the puzzle together and came to the conclusion that he must have used up all his luck in his first 25 years because nothing else could explain getting run over by a car on the best day of his life.
That had been the world's most expensive cup of coffee and he hadn't even gotten around to ordering it.
[…the heavens are jealous of heroic genius.] But at least he was still alive enough to be quoting idioms wryly to himself.
Was he at a hospital now? The sensation was slowly returning to his limbs, and he could feel a silky fabric beneath his fingertips that he guessed were the sheets of the bed he was lying on. He was probably in a VIP ward then. He couldn't think of any other scenario in which a hospital would give him silk sheets. Maybe his family had insisted.
Oh god. His family. His mother would be inconsolable, not to mention his clingy little brother and sister, both of whom had university exams coming up and didn't need him to be a distraction.
The urge to get up became stronger. He needed to reassure everyone that he was fine and monitor the company. If the media caught on to the news of his accident, share values would definitely plummet.
[Come on Zheyun, this was just one stupid car, a big chunk of metal, surely you can't be as ill as the time you didn't sleep for three days because you were rushing a project deadline and fell headfirst down a whole flight of stairs.]
The self-encouragement seemed to be effective. But along with the return of feeling was the return of pain. Instead of the whole body ache he was anticipating though, there was just a heavy stabbing sensation in his lungs that worsened every time he breathed. It felt a little like he was inhaling knives. Was this because he had fractured his ribs? But only his ribs? That was considerably fortunate for a head-on collision right?
But when he finally managed to force open his eyelids, he realised the full extent of just how unfortunate he was.
[Antique carved canopied bed, antique folding screen, antique circular shelf displaying antique vase.]
He closed his eyes again. Opened them again. Closed them again. Opened them again. Nope. Still the same historical movie film set. Either his mother had gone out of her way to find a hospital with her favourite inner palace dramas as an interior décor theme or something was seriously wrong here.
Before Yan Zheyun could decide which of the above it was, a sharp headache burst behind his eyes. It was so intense that it made the pain in his lungs feel trivial. He couldn't hold back a gasp as foreign images assaulted his mind, snapshots of someone else's life making itself at home in the part of his brain that contained memories. It felt like he was watching a movie of a biography fast-forwarded at 100x speed, but the difference was that he could acutely empathise with the person's emotions.
Innocence. Happiness. Devastation. Grief. Anger.
He squeezed his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to block everything out but to no avail. And when he finally gave up, it was like he had been merged into another person, sharing their same hopes and dreams but still hyper-aware that he was a separate entity.
Yan Yun. This was the name of the boy whose body he was currently inhabiting. And also, Yan Zheyun realised with despair, the name of the protagonist of the ridiculous historical BL novel his sister had complained about the whole of yesterday evening. She was the only person in the family who knew that Yan Zheyun preferred men to women and had stopped hiding her inner fujoshi the second she found out. Quality time with her was often spent on listening to her ranting about the latest scumbag gong or white lotus shou she had read about. But there had been no other novel that had incensed her half as much as 'Hurt Me in a Million Ways'.
And with good reason.
Yan Lixin had decided to read this novel because the shou protagonist, Yan Yun, had a similar name to her beloved big brother. And then after three hundred chapters of Yan Yun getting used and abused and bullied by a whole host of gongs, each one more scumbag than the last, Yan Yun had finally—finally!—grown a spine and stood up for himself. But that hadn't lasted long. And soon he was off on another vicious spiral of 'I-love-you-even-though-I-hurt-you-oh-is-that-so-I-guess-I-forgive-you'...
Despite its generically masochistic harlequin title, 'Hurt Me In A Million Ways' was set in a fictional ancient dynasty. Yan Yun was the son of a noble and wise prime minister, with good morals and a genuine love for the people. It may be hard to believe that it would be so easy to frame such a virtuous man with the crime of high treason and sentence him to death, but the point of this novel was the smut, right? Who cared about being realistic? Being realistic would just make it harder to put the shou protagonist into different compromising situations, each one more tantalising than the last.
So Yan Yun's father had been conveniently executed, along with all the members of the Yan Family that were over the age of 14. Yan Yun was one of two children spared because his 14th birthday had not yet come. But as it'd turned out, the death sentence had been revoked but they still had to face living punishment.
And that was how this dignified prime minister's son became reduced to a slave in the household of his father's close political ally, the Minister of Rites, Wu Shengqi.
The information overload was killing him. Did this mean he was in Wu Shengqi's house now? As a slave?
Yan Zheyun's head spun. Just minutes ago he was standing at the top of the food chain and now he was reduced to the lowest rank of society in a domineering caste system. It was like going from heaven to hell in an instant.
...but wait. Slaves couldn't afford antiques. This couldn't possibly be Yan Yun's bed, so whose room was he in?
He had a bad feeling about this.
As if to answer Yan Zheyun's question, the ornate wooden doors at the end of the room swung open. Because of the stupid folding screen, he couldn't see who had entered but heard a warm, patient voice call out to him in a tone so indulgent he felt goosebumps break out over his skin.
"Yun Er, you're awake? Thank goodness. I was so worried."
Oh. Yan Zheyun knew who this was.
Wu Bin, Yan Yun's childhood friend and—according to his sister's irate bitching—the start of all of Yan Yun's nightmares.
Well then. Fuck.
ความคิดของผู้สร้าง 
Queeniecat
Queeniecat A/N: Thank you very much for reading!
Wasn't intending to start another novel since I began serialising 'I Married My Love Rival?!' two days ago but I saw that the Writing Prompts Contest was 'Transmigration' and couldn't resist!
The plot for this story has been in the works for a long time now but I wasn't certain whether it would be received well because it isn't very fluffy and has an important political plot line along with the romance. Regardless, the main pairing is still sweet, I promise.
There will be multiple updates on most days for the duration of the WPC but following which, will return to once daily at 8 p.m GMT +8.
:) If you enjoyed, I would really appreciate your support for the WPC! Thanks again!
บท 2: Don't Want~
Wu Bin.
Yan Yun's memories of him all contained this young scholarly gentleman with impeccable manners and cultured poise. He was the eldest son of the Minister of Rites, well-educated and popular with the literary masses. Just two years ago, he had excelled in the imperial examinations, earning himself the title of the youngest 'Zhuangyuan', the principal graduate, in all hundred years of this fictional Ye Dynasty.
Although, because of his refined appearance, many people had joked that he had also been the most suitable for the title of 'Tanhua'. 'Tanhua' was the title of the third-best performing candidate in the exam but also traditionally reserved for the most handsome.
To Yan Yun, Wu Bin was like a beacon of light in the dark abyss his life had become. After the execution of his family, his younger sister and he had had their status as free civilians revoked by imperial decree. Their names had been recorded in the slave register and they had gone from being the pampered son and daughter of a prestigious aristocratic family to goods for barter.
Up till the point where Yan Zheyun took over control of this body, Yan Yun had no idea where his sister had been sold off to. But he himself had been bought by the Minister of Rites, who was his father's old friend and biggest ally. Although the family couldn't treat a traitor's son like him too well for fear of earning the censure of the civil officials in court, Yan Yun was still grateful that they had taken him in. He was even more grateful for the unending kindness that Wu Bin showed him, idolising him as a big brother figure and relying on him for protection from Wu Bin's lecherous maternal cousin, Liang Ming.
But Yan Zheyun knew better than that. He hadn't read the novel himself, but Wu Bin's treachery had formed about 50% of his little sister's roasting, so he was at least familiar with this part of the plot. He knew that the real reason why the Minister of Rites had bought Yan Yun was to keep him like a trophy in a cabinet, a symbol that he had finally bested the man he had been secretly jealous of for so long.
He also knew that the real reason why Wu Bin behaved like an older brother towards Yan Yun was that he was mesmerised by his face and coveted his body. Worst still, he wanted to obtain both while still keeping his reputation and the right to enjoy the adoration Yan Yun had for him. Underneath that gentlemanly façade was a scheming monster that plotted to have Yan Yun emotionally indebted to him. Yan Yun thought Wu Bin was his saviour but had no idea that most of his coincidental encounters with Liang Ming had been engineered by Wu Bin himself, just so he could sweep in at the last minute and rescue Yan Yun, pull that small lithe body into his lap and hold him close in the guise of comforting.
Liang Ming may be a disgusting beast, but Wu Bin was the true demon.
Yan Zheyun had a habit of listening to his sister's ramblings halfheartedly—and he was regretting this sorely now—but the gist of her complaints was that Yan Yun would at some point in the future fall hook, line, and sinker for Wu Bin's trap with foolish naivety. Convinced that this was true love, he would capitulate to Wu Bin's patient advances, cry in quiet envy as Wu Bin married the daughter of a general, but forgive him as soon as he received an apology and explanation. He would even feel guilty for being selfish enough to put Wu Bin in a position where he would have to choose between obeisance to his parents and Yan Yun's affections.
Yan Zheyun couldn't say he felt the same. Maybe because he was a modern 21st-century man, but if his hypothetical boyfriend turned out to be some sort of lying cheating scumbag, he would happily say bye-bye. Why not? That was the only way of ensuring that the next one would be more docile.
"Yun Er?"
He could ruminate on the whole list of Wu Bin's transgressions later on. Right now, he had to figure out how to deal with this hot mess on his hands. After considering what he knew about Yan Yun's personality, he forced himself to turn his head towards Wu Bin but made sure to timidly avoid his eyes.
"Young Master," he said, using the term of address that Yan Yun, Wu Bin's manservant, had used. The one silver lining of this whole situation was that he had transmigrated into the setting where he at least spoke the language. If this were medieval Europe, for example, he had little doubt that he would be dragged out and burnt at the stake for sorcery in no time at all. Especially since, unlike the transmigration novels his little sister loved, he didn't seem to have any so-called 'Golden Fingers' to assist him. No special powers he had noticed or any system lurking in the recesses of his brain with a marketplace where he could exchange quest points for rewards.
So much for the weird robot voice. The least it could have done was accompany Yan Zheyun through the plight it put him in.
"Yun Er, are you all right? You keep daydreaming." A cool hand pressed itself to Yan Zheyun's forehead. Caught off-guard, he flinched away from the touch, heart skipping a panicked beat as he saw a flicker of surprise on Wu Bin's face.
Shit. Okay. There was plenty of time to wallow in self-pity later but for now, he had to get his act together and find a way to get rid of Wu Bin or get out of the room without being accompanied. Only then would he be able to work out a plan of action. Maybe brainstorm on ways to get back to his world without dying for good.
'Yun Er is all right," he said, as demurely as he could, surprised to discover that Yan Yun's voice was startlingly similar to his own. Not too low and with a soothing melodic quality, but also with a hint of polite coldness that made him seem loftier than everyone else. The extra memories in his head hadn't portrayed this accurately and so Yan Zheyun hadn't realised how incongruous Yan Yun's voice was with his actual personality.
Interesting.
He struggled to sit up and it took all of his willpower not to shove Wu Bin away when he immediately wrapped an arm around Yan Zheyun's shoulders to assist him. A weak cough escaped unbidden from Yan Zheyun's lips and Wu Bin patted his chest soothingly to try and help ease the discomfort. But Yan Zheyun didn't miss the way his gaze flitted to the sliver of white skin peeking out from the loose neckline of Yan Zheyun's robes. Or the way his touch lingered for a second longer than appropriate.
Great. There was nothing more delightful than being taken advantage of while possibly dying of pneumonia. How could Yan Yun be block-headed enough to believe that Wu Bin was a gentleman? Wu Bin wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was openly eating Yan Yun's tofu. If Yan Zheyun hadn't been privy to the innermost thoughts of this host body, he would have suspected that Yan Yun was just acting coy on purpose to capture Wu Bin's attention. No one could be that innocent.
Except Yan Yun was. No wonder tragedy plagued his footsteps no matter where he tried to run or hide.
"Young Master, this humble servant is too lowly to be in your bed." He struggled feebly against Wu Bin's grasp and tried to explain that he really wanted to leave, but could barely get a word out edgewise without coughing his lungs out. At this rate, the chances of him dying before losing his virginity were pretty high, assuming the medical advancements and sanitary conditions of the era he was currently in were equivalent to the ancient societies of Z country.
Evidently, Wu Bin was worried about this too, because he steadily called for the maids outside to enter, and a row of young girls filed in obediently. One carried a wooden tray holding a single porcelain bowl and another had a fancy bronze basin with water. The one who brought up the rear was holding a folded cloth so respectfully in both hands, she seemed like she was offering it up for ritual sacrifice.
Although he had been a true blue wealthy third-generation young master back in his world, the enlightenment of modern society obviously made slavery illegal. Therefore, while Yan Zheyun was used to being waited on hand and foot by a butler, a housekeeper, and other domestic helpers, he was still incredibly uncomfortable at all the bowing, prostrating, and diminutive forms of address that were the norm here.
But he had to get used to it soon because he was now expected to behave like this as well.
"Drink this medicine," Wu Bin coaxed. "Good boy, It'll make you feel better soon."
[What was the historical BL novel version of date rape drugs?] was all Yan Zheyun could think about, even though he knew that it was illogical for Wu Bin to resort to that. Liang Ming? Yes, without a doubt, and the second he got the opportunity to do so. But not Wu Bin. He was too conscious of his self-image. The illustrious youngest principal graduate of the Ye Dynasty couldn't possibly stoop low enough to drug his manservant just so he could have his wicked way with him. Even if no one else knew about it, losing Yan Yun's adoration would be too big a consequence for Wu Bin, who probably got off on some sort of idol complex.
Pretty certain that the bowl of medicine was safe, he accepted it meekly and took a tentative sip at the inky black liquid. It tasted as disgusting as it looked and smelled but Yan Zheyun wasn't the sort to fuss too much about this. His parents had spoiled their children with material wealth but had raised them to be tougher than bratty whiners who wanted everything their way. A bowl of bitter traditional medicine was nothing.
Yan Yun, however, was a different story.
This only son of the prime minister had been the precious treasure of the entire family, the one they had held the highest of hopes for. He had grown up in an environment where his every whim had been met without a second thought, a classic example of the saying 'afraid that he would fall if they carried him in their hands, afraid that he would melt if they held him in their mouths'. This doted-on little young master's treatment could rival those of the small princes in the palace, so even now, at 18 years old and a whole 4 years of slavery, he was still prone to throwing small tantrums whenever asked to take medicine. Nothing too serious, just a subtle plea to try and get someone to pamper him. So that he could forget, for just a few seconds, that he was nothing more than a worthless slave.
Wu Bin knew this. Yan Zheyun knew he knew this. He also knew that Wu Bin was expecting it, had probably already prepared a stash of sweet dates to pop into Yan Yun's mouth and earn even more gratitude.
So Yan Zheyun had to put on a show. But whether he could act it out was an entirely different matter. He could already feel his face muscles twitching in agitation just from the thought of having to contort it into a sulky pout. This was not part of the skill-set required for the position of CEO.
[How do I do this, how does anyone do this, can I use Lixin when she sells cuteness as a reference—ugh no, that's too much…] He ransacked his brain for a memory of Yan Yun taking medicine as a child and being surrounded by cooing adults. What had been his technique?
[Ah yes. Turn the head to the left 35 degrees, angle chin downwards 25 degrees, puff out cheeks—never mind, that's too hard. Furrow brows, reach out, push the bowl away gently and say 'don't want'—]
"Don't want~"
The bowl went flying out of Wu Bin's hands. Medicine splashed all over the extravagant silk sheets, Yan Zheyun's arms, and…Wu Bin's probably very expensive hanfu-style clothes. For a first attempt, it was pretty damn horrific.
…so maybe that didn't quite achieve the desired effect. But at least, Yan Zheyun consoled himself, he now had a valid excuse to get the hell out of there.
ความคิดของผู้สร้าง
Queeniecat
Queeniecat
A/N: Thanks very much for reading!
It took me ages to find a dynasty name that (most probably) didn’t clash with an actual historical one…I was like counting backwards from Qing, Ming, Song Tang etc. Then realised I missed out a whole bunch of less famous ones in-between…
Also, Scumbag Gong 1 Wu Bin is not part of the main pairing. I guess this could be reassuring or disappointing, depending on what you're into... xD
If you enjoyed, I would really appreciate if you could consider supporting me in the WPC! Thank you! ^^
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