Some time passes before Zhuge Liang comes to terms with his current circumstances. After making up his mind to take on the dead man’s identity, Zhuge Liang knelt beside the lifeless body of his double.  As a civil engineer, he has seen his fair share of dead bodies during construction accidents and wasn’t squeamish touching dead bodies.  Thus, his hands rummaged through the man’s modest pouch with the air of a child unwrapping an unexpected gift. "Alright, let''s see what treasures you''ve left me," he mumbled, his curiosity momentarily eclipsing the lingering unease. Out came a handful of copper coins, their surfaces worn smooth by time, practically winking in the sunlight. “Not exactly a king''s ransom, but hey, it’s something,” he mused, dropping them into his pocket with a satisfying metallic jingle.


    He then discovered a crumpled note tucked into the man’s belt: “Longzhong village, house by the old willow tree.” Zhuge Liang held it up like a pirate brandishing a treasure map. “X marks the spot,” he declared, grinning at the silent cave. He continued his search, pocketing a few other odds and ends.  The shock must have still affected him though, for he inexplicably overlooked the rather obvious prize of the man’s clothing.


    “Sorry about all this, mate,” he muttered, stacking rocks into a makeshift cairn. “I promise not to mangle your reputation too badly. Probably.” He stared at the cairn, the weight of his decision settling heavily on his shoulders. The man he buried was gone, and whatever life he''d known might never return. He pulled out his survival knife, using the sharp edge to carve a quick, makeshift symbol into one of the rocks. Not that his past self—future self?—needed a headstone, but it felt… right. “Guess this makes you the first grave I’ve ever built,” he muttered. “No use sulking,” he muttered, forcing a grin. He gave an awkward bow, as if auditioning for a play, before glancing nervously at the cave ceiling, which seemed to be contemplating its next rockslide. “Time to bail,” he announced to the unyielding stone, making a hasty exit.


    Outside, the sun hit him like a blinding spotlight, and he stumbled into a landscape ripped straight from an ancient scroll. Rolling hills, dense forests, and not a single skyscraper to pierce the horizon. “This,” he declared, “is definitely not Hubei.” He inhaled the crisp, unfamiliar air. “Yep! Village nearby,” he reminded himself, marching forward with a determined stride that was somewhat undermined by his day-glow hiking outfit.


    When he finally stumbled upon the village of Longzhong, it was a postcard-perfect scene of rustic charm with thatched-roof houses clustered together, smoke curling lazily from chimneys, and chickens squawking gossip in the distance. The villagers stopped and stared, their expressions ranging from mild curiosity to outright bewilderment. Zhuge Liang, with his neon-clad something, might as well have landed in a UFO.  At this time, he finally remembered the clothing.  He should have taken the dead man’s clothing.


    “Look, a demon!” a small child squealed, pointing at his brightly colored clothing.


    “Don’t be daft, boy,” an older man huffed, though his squinting eyes betrayed a hint of doubt. “He’s just… um… someone profoundly lost?”


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Zhuge Liang attempted a friendly smile, though it came out more like a nervous twitch. “Greetings,” he said, his voice a touch too loud in the sudden silence. “I’m… uh… Zhuge Liang?” He half-expected a fanfare, but the villagers merely exchanged puzzled glances.


    “Zhuge Liang?” one man repeated, scratching his head. “Never heard of you.”


    “New in town,” Zhuge Liang said, adopting an air of nonchalance that clashed hilariously with his situation. “Traveling clothes,” he added, gesturing vaguely at his neon ensemble. “From… a very, very far-off land. Yes!  A very far-off land!”


    “What kinda odd talk is this now?” an older woman murmured, prompting Zhuge Liang to freeze. Had he said something wrong? Great, now he had to worry about ancient language quirks on top of everything else.


    The skepticism displayed was as thick as fog. Thinking quickly, he brandished the crumpled note retrieved from the dead man. “I was told this is the village of Longzhong? Right?” Nods. “And there’s a house near an old willow tree?” More nods. “Well, that’s where I’m told to go!”


    At the mention of the willow tree, an elderly woman finally spoke, her voice laced with curiosity. “That house’s been empty for years!”


    “Perfect!” Zhuge Liang declared, offering a few of the coins with a flourish. “I’d be delighted to stay there.”


    The coins worked their magic. The villagers, finally deciding he was more eccentric than dangerous, led him to the old willow tree’s shadow. The house it guarded was modest and weathered, but Zhuge Liang viewed it like a fixer-upper with untapped potential. “Ah! Home sweet home…” he said, stepping inside.


    "Alright, step one: fire. No lighter, no matches, and I doubt these villagers invented microwave dinners. Good thing I still have…" He pulled out his magnesium fire starter, scraped off a bit of magnesium onto the straw, struck it a few times, and a shower of sparks rained down to ignite the dry straw. "Ha! Science, baby!" He cawed triumphantly!  Only to immediately realize that the flames were dying out. "Oh, crap!" He scrambled for firewood, hoping he hadn''t just wasted his one shot at fire-making.


    Unbeknownst to him, one of the villagers passing by the window caught sight of the sparks and nearly dropped the basket they were carrying. “The demon conjures fire from nothing!”


    After a quick dinner, Zhuge Liang did a quick survey of the structure. Running a hand along the sagging wooden frame, he quipped: "Alright, civil engineer mode activated." He pulled out his Swiss Army knife, flipping through the attachments. "Screwdriver? No. Tiny scissors? Useless. Ah-ha! Awl." He tested the edge against the wood. "If I can MacGyver a fix, I might actually make this place livable."


    Finally collapsing onto a straw mat, he surveyed the cracks in the walls and the sagging roof with the weary optimism of a man facing a mountain of DIY projects. “Alright,” he muttered, as if addressing an invisible camera crew. “Priority one: fix this place. Priority two: food. Priority three: avoid spontaneous combustion. Piece of cake, right?” He stared up at the ceiling with a wry smile.  “And how did I even end up here?” he mused, “I was just a civil engineer with no interest in history!  How do I even know what to do in this pre-wi-fi isekai!”


    Finally, he pulled out his leather-bound diary from his pouch and, with a sigh, began to write. "Day 1. I have apparently arrived in Longzhong village. My clothing is apparently a fashion statement from the abyss. Tasks: 1. Blend in. 2. Acquire appropriate attire. 3. Learn the local customs. And 4. learn how to start a fire properly without a lighter. Note to self: research pre-Qin fire-starting techniques. Also, how to avoid being mistaken for a demon."