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Initially, transmigration is a dream come true. What chronically online shut in doesn’t dream of one day living through something like that? He’s read over a hundred shitty webnovels and webtoons in the genre, all playing with their own variation of the premise while somehow managing to dodge true originality entirely, to the point that he’s got an encyclopedic knowledge of all the associated tropes that he could recite from the back of his eyelids. If there’s one thing he’s been training for his whole life, it’s this!
He quickly becomes disillusioned. For one thing, he doesn’t transmigrate into anyone interesting or powerful at all, not a cultivator or a demon or even something like a disgraced former prince or criminal on the run. Instead, he's a young third son of poor health born to an affluent, rich family, but not to a ridiculous degree or anything like that. Really, hasn’t he just been born into the exact same position as in his last life, except this time without the benefit of modern medicine or wifi!? What a load of bullshit! He can’t even recognize the world as any sort of series he’s seen or read, seeming more like just a generic historical setting. If he wanted to learn the Four Arts and wear hanfu, then he could have just done that at home in the privacy of his apartment.
The situation gets worse, however, because he quickly learns that one of the differences is that his new family isn’t like his old one. They’re assholes. His father cares about nothing but making money and treats Shen Yuan like a ghost, his mother is mostly preoccupied with basically bullying his father’s two concubine wives, and any sisters he has have all been married off into different families. The worst are his brothers, who seem to think anyone who isn’t them or their family are expendable NPCs that exist for their own sadistic amusement. Shen Yuan doesn’t get it. Hating a villain, sure, that’s what they’re for, but just a random servant trying to do their job? At that point, aren’t you the villain for being such a dick?
Shen Yuan tries to make the best of the situation by avoiding them all as much as possible, keeping his head down, and trying to squeeze what enjoyment he can out of this second life. Mostly, he just buys and reads a lot of books. He’s indulged; like all second gen kids, he still has a generous allowance to make use of, and his family is at the very least not cruel to him. At worst, they’re just a bit neglectful - which he doesn’t mind at all, considering how unpleasant it is to be around them sometimes.
A few months into this new existence of his, he decides to go and read outside for once. The seasons are turning, and the days are finally warm enough that he isn’t miserably huddling inside of his rooms as close to the fireplace as he can get, and he’s hit with a rare longing to actually feel sunlight on his skin. He goes and finds a comfortable pavilion in one of his family’s courtyards, and settles down to read his crappy adventure novel in peace.
Or, he tries to. A few chapters in he starts to hear a commotion, to the point that he can’t help but curiously look over.
There’s an old woman kneeling on the ground, frantically picking up pieces of clothing and putting them into a dropped basket. A little boy is earnestly doing his best to help her, and standing above them are two of his brothers doing the opposite.
“Clumsy old bat!” one of them jeers, like a D-list villain. “Dropping our clothes on the ground like that, are you insulting us?”
“No, young master, of course not - this lowly one apologizes--”
“Take it back and wash it again! You’ve gotten dust on it!”
Now, the little boy helping the old woman speaks up. “It… the river is still very cold to wash in, if we just shake out the clothes--”
He’s quickly shushed by the older woman - his grandmother? - and pulled behind her. She starts bowing where she kneels and agrees to go wash everything again. It’s terrible, but Shen Yuan is used to seeing scenes like this play out in his household by now. Certain family members of his aren’t happy unless they get to verbally abuse at least one servant per day, it seems. It’s depressing and almost embarrassing to watch, like a video of someone screaming at a customer service worker, but he doesn’t know what to do about it except to not be that as well. It’s not like his family would listen to him if he told them to stop being such dickheads!
“A shaky old woman and her bastard son - you embarrass our household just by appearing on our property. Get out of my sight!” With that said, his eldest brother kicks the kneeling old woman, stomping down on her back so she cries out.
“A-niang!” the boy cries, face twisting with panic and anger. “Stop hurting my mother!”
Whether the boy would have the nerve to fight back or the wisdom to restrain himself, Shen Yuan doesn’t know, because he’s reached them all before that happens. Out of breath - he can’t remember the last time he ran anywhere, he thinks he literally vaulted over a bench - he comes to a stop, laying a hand on his eldest brother’s shoulder.
What he really wants to say is ‘you useless, embarrassing piece of human filth, I want to die of humiliation just being related to you! Kicking old women and children isn’t going to make your pillar bigger, you know that, right? What a two-bit hack grave digging shitty villain you are!’
“Enough of that!” is what he says instead. “Da-ge, you’ve made your point, now just let them go.”
What a lukewarm protest! Truly, he’s ashamed of himself. But his eldest brother just gives him a look of mild surprise, as if the only thing that strikes him as strange is that Shen Yuan has left his room at all.
“Didi, a firm hand is needed with the help sometimes,” he says patronizingly. “You’ve got to put them in their place just to remind them of who is in charge.”
Shithead! Asshole! Shen Yuan’s skin is crawling with sheer cringe at the way the guy shamelessly says ‘the help’ like that. They’re still right fucking there!
“They seem like they’re already perfectly obedient and polite,” he says instead, smiling through grit teeth. “Perhaps it would be better to punish when a misdeed has actually been committed?”
Both of his brothers make eye contact with each other, as if he can’t fucking see them. An oh, our poor naive little brother sort of look that makes him want to scream. Fuck off! He’s sixteen in this life, that’s practically an adult in this setting! Stop treating him like he’s some helpless little toddler just because he has the constitution of a swooning maiden! It’s not his fault that this world doesn’t know what ‘hypoglycemia’ means!
“You should leave the disciplining to us, Didi,” his other brother says, patting his shoulder reassuringly. “Just go back to your books and don’t worry about it.”
“Sure,” Shen Yuan bites out tersely through a rictus smile. Thankfully, his brothers seem to have at least lost interest in what they were doing, and turn around and leave after that. Good riddance!
He’s left behind with the old woman and the little boy, and there’s a moment of profound awkwardness and discomfort before he leans down and holds a hand out to the woman.
“I’m sorry about my brothers,” he says, face hot at his lackluster apology. “If there’s anything I can do to help--”
“Not at all!” the old woman rushes to say. “We are - we’re very grateful, thanking young master for his generosity and kindness--”
“I’ll help you pick this up!” he says quickly, before he has to listen to any more of that. Ahh, he seriously just did the bare minimum, please don’t exaggerate!
He kneels down to pick up the clothes from the ground, something that seems to immediately distress the old woman and her son, who quickly try to assure him that he doesn’t need to do any such thing. Shen Yuan eventually stops, feeling like he’s upsetting them more than actually helping, and hovers around uselessly while they do the actual work. Finally, they both bow to him, each holding baskets of laundry.
“We will return to the river and have these washed again,” the old woman says. “It-- it won’t take us more than a day, young master.”
“Don’t bother,” Shen Yuan says. “Those clothes will only need a bit of a patdown to be clean again, honestly… Just take the baskets home with you and bring them back tomorrow, acting like you washed it again. My brothers won’t be able to tell the difference at all.”
The old woman seems shocked by the suggested deception, but the young boy looks shyly up at Shen Yuan and smiles a little. Ahh, what an adorable child, honestly! Looking about ten or nine, his clothes are thin and patchworked but clean, visibly a little underfed but with carefully brushed and tied back hair. It’s clear that his mother must take careful care of him, as much as she can possibly afford to.
“Thank you, Young Master,” he says tentatively. Shen Yuan can hear the capital letters as he says it; that’s his name now.
Shen Yuan smiles back at him, encouraging and conspiratorial. “It’s our secret.”
The two servants thank him again and take their leave. Shen Yuan returns to the pavilion and his book, but he’s completely distracted after that, thinking about that poor old woman and her son. Their clothes had been so low quality, and their cheeks nearly hollow with hunger. They’re clearly struggling, and then to have to put up with such abusive bosses too? It’s bullshit! It bugs him like a mosquito buzzing and nipping at him for a few days, until he finally asks one of his own servants about them.
“The old washerwoman?” Fu An asks, his eyebrows rising. Usually, the only requests Shen Yuan makes of him are ‘more firewood please’ or ‘could you bring some tea and snacks.’ “She and her son live in a hovel at the edge of the property, young master. They help wash our estate’s fabrics and that of some of the town’s people for pay.”
“They don’t have any other family? No one to support them?”
“None. She is unmarried, and he is her only child.”
Shen Yuan isn’t naive, as much as some of his family might think. He knows that there are unfortunate people with unfortunate lives all over in the world - even close to him, in their household. The same fact held true in his last life. It’s just that… this world is so much more brutal, even more people slipping through the cracks and living in abject poverty. It’s depressing! But then again, what can he do about it? He’s only one person…
He tells himself this over and over again, until one day he catches the young boy coming up to their property balancing a heavy looking basket full of laundry all on his own.
“Where’s your mother?” he asks him, surprised and then very quickly concerned.
The boy startles, and then bows so quickly that he almost drops everything. “Young Master! Greetings! This one was just returning the washed fabrics, he did not mean to linger or offend--”
“Who says you offended me? I’m just curious. Why are you here alone?”
Reluctantly, the boy admits that his mother is ill (“Just a little!” he hurries to reassure, looking as if he’s frightened that she might somehow be punished for the crime of being sick), and so he had to return the laundry himself. His hands, Shen Yuan notices, look red and chafed. Did he do all of the washing on his own too? He must have. Such a young boy… it’s not right! The only thing a boy his age should be worrying about is whether or not he’ll be able to beat the next level on his Nintendo game.
I’m only one person, he thinks. And, what could I possibly do to help? And, no one listens to me anyway.
“I wish her a speedy recovery,” he says, a useless nonsense phrase. Still, the boy bows and thanks him sincerely, as if Shen Yuan showing the bare minimum of consideration is somehow a touching and saintlike level of kindness.
He quickly leaves, because he has to work. Because he is a child with a job, someone who must work for a living, and work hard at that. What does Shen Yuan know of his struggles, with his soft hands that have never known a single day of hardship? He is a useless person, born into this world and the last merely to take up space and wile away his days until they’re finally all gone. A luxurious and peaceful existence that anyone would envy. He is lucky. He is very lucky, and he has nothing to truly complain about.
It’s wasted on him.
The next day, he deliberately keeps an eye out for the boy, wondering if his mother will be back to trailing after him yet or not… But no, it’s still just him. A child hauling laundry up and down a hill, surely cold and exhausted, and needing to take care of his mother too. Shen Yuan itches.
The next day it’s the same, and the one after it too. On the fourth day, he catches the boy putting down his basket on the floor when he must think no one is watching and just… rest. The look on his face is pure fatigue, going beyond just the physical, as if his very soul is tired and aching. Shen Yuan--
Shen Yuan himself may be useless, but he has a generous allowance. He decides to use it.
He knocks on the door. He does it gently, afraid that the door might collapse if he puts too much pressure on it. This place really is a hovel, small and dingy and looking like it might be blown apart if a storm were to ever sweep through the place.
There is a tentative moment of silence, and then the door opens to reveal the boy tentatively poking his face out. His eyes widen with surprise at the appearance of Shen Yuan.
“Young Master?” he blurts out, and then, “Is-- is there something this one can do for--?”
“Not at the present,” Shen Yuan says, smiling at him reassuringly. “All of my clothes are very clean right now, thank you. I merely want to visit, and to share some ‘get well soon’ gifts with your mother.”
The boy blinks. “What… what does Young Master mean?”
“Would you let me inside?”
Of course, being asked so directly by someone like Shen Yuan, how could he do anything but give his permission? He comes inside. There really is… very little space in here. There is only one bed, which the old woman is sleeping in - her face flushed with fever, her breathing seeming strained, brow furrowed with pain and discomfort. There’s a wettened rag on her forehead, and dark bags underneath the boy’s eyes. Besides that there’s only a tiny, rudimentary cooking area squeezed into one corner, as well as several stacks of folded fabrics.
“I see,” Shen Yuan says, and nods to himself. Yeah, alright, this place should be bigger, but at least it’s not too small for what he’s brought! “Alright, everyone please come inside!”
He steps outside to give the others room; behind him, the handful of servants he brought with him start to stream in one at a time. They bring with them food, both freshly cooked and ingredients for later, a stack of thick and warm blankets, and firewood. One of them is the family doctor who Shen Yuan is by this point intimately acquainted with, who immediately begins to examine the old woman, scowling seriously as he sets down his bag of medicine and checks her temperature.
The boy watches all of them with wide, round eyes, looking stunned and frozen in place.
“I was thinking,” he says, “while your mother is ill, that perhaps some of my servants could help you with the washing - it’s really too much to leave to just a single boy, isn’t it? It’s not reasonable to expect you to do so much.”
“I,” the boy says, and then blinks rapidly as his eyes well up and become shiny with tears. Shen Yuan politely pretends not to notice, even as he sniffles. “This one-- Young Master is far too generous.”
“Not at all,” Shen Yuan hurries to say. “None of this is a hardship for me, so please don’t be too grateful.”
Really, the worst he can expect is his family’s reaction… but that’s only if they hear about this and if they decide to care. Isn’t it really only his business what he chooses to do with his money and his servants? If he wants to spend it on things they consider to be a waste, then they can just roll their eyes at their stupid, naive son and brother being such a bleeding heart for some random charity case. Let them look down on him! What does he care about their shitty opinions!?
The boy looks at him, and then very sincerely says, “Thank you. Young Master truly is… a great benefactor to this family. We will always be grateful to you.”
“Don’t the two of you work hard for my family every single day? This is only repaying all of that dedication. Please, don’t worry about it.”
The boy shakes his head, looking at Shen Yuan in an odd way - as if he is some incredible, distant mountain top to gaze upon in awe - before there’s a faint voice from inside the hovel.
“... What’s happening?” the old washerwoman croaks.
“A-niang!” the boy cries, immediately rushing to her side. Shen Yuan only stands in the doorway, trying to stay out of the way of everyone doing the real work and making themselves useful, and watches as he throws himself onto the bedside, grabbing at her hands with care and caution, as if she’s made out of easily torn paper. “A-niang, you’re awake!”
“Oh, you look so tired. Have you been eating? Who are these people?”
A touching mother and son moment! He quickly diverts his gaze once he sees the old washerwoman cup her son’s face, and the boy begins to shed tears. He won’t gawk at this tender scene! He’s just the nosy neighbor involving himself with their lives, really.
“He’s saving us,” the boy whispers. “We-- you’re going to be okay, A-niang.”
It’s too much praise, for too little effort. This is the least he could do; he should have done more earlier; Shen Yuan shouldn’t accept such raw, earnest gratitude from such desperate people. But a part of him can’t help but feel warm and accomplished, as if he has finally done something that actually matters. Somehow, he can’t stop himself from clutching that warm feeling close to his chest. Is this pride?
“Oh, Binghe,” the old washerwoman sighs. “I’ve worried you; I’m sorry.”
The doctor interrupts them, wanting to examine her more closely, and the young boy quickly obeys and gives him space, clearly not wanting to waste this precious opportunity for care from a medical professional. And Shen Yuan--
Shen Yuan stands there and silently mouths to himself the name Binghe?
Oh. Oh holy fucking shit.