《History Hijinks: The Misadventures of Zhuge Liang》 PROLOGUE Zhuge Liang tossed his backpack into the trunk and slammed it shut, exhaling sharply. A week in the wilderness of Hebei. No emails, no construction deadlines, and, most importantly, no Old Wang droning on about the Three Kingdoms. Heck! Old Wang KNEW he hated history! What something, something, ancient warlords? Dynasties? Who! Cares! He¡¯d made a point to forget anything beyond that. History was for scholars and daydreamers, not for engineers who actually built the future. He just wanted peace and quiet, a break from the stress of his last major project. He checked his phone one last time before shutting it off, sending a quick text to his family: ¡°Taking a break. Will be in xxx.yyy for a week. Don¡¯t call unless someone¡¯s dying.¡± With that, he revved the engine and headed off into the wilderness. Leaving behind the modern world, completely unaware this would be the last time he saw it. His family, not hearing from him even after two weeks, grew frantic and mounted a search party at his last texted location. What they found was an ancient chest semi-buried in a cave. It appeared to have been unearthed by a recent earthquake. The chest bore the unmistakable insignia of Zhuge Kongming ¨C the famous strategist from the three kingdoms period. The discovery of the chest only deepened the puzzle of Zhuge Liang''s disappearance. ********* Three months later¡­ The grand hall of the National Museum of Chinese History shimmered under the glare of spotlights. A faint smell of ozone in the air from the ionizers. It was open today for a very special unveiling. Inside was a scene of hushed whispers and clicking cameras. At the centre of the hall, encased in protective glass, rested a war chest of extraordinary preservation. Its dark, lacquered wood bearing the insignia of Zhuge Kongming. A nearby placard explained the chest''s discovery. It says that the chest was unearthed by the Zhuge family during their search for their missing relative ¨C coincidentally named Zhuge Liang. Initial carbon dating placed the age of the war chest at around 1800 years old. Approximately during the time of the Three Kingdoms in China. Rumors of the find had spread quickly, captivating historians and the public alike. From the back of the room, a group of Zhuge family members watched the spectacle, their faces a mix of anticipation and quiet apprehension. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Carefully, a museum curator unlocked the chest and exposed its contents to light for the first time in centuries. The audience leaned forward. At first, the contents aligned with expectations: an assortment of well-preserved artifacts ¨C a delicate fan, meticulously crafted calligraphy scrolls with ink still vivid, intricately annotated tactical maps, and beautifully preserved records of ancient campaigns. "Incredible," exclaimed a historian, his voice tinged with awe. "What a find!" A ripple of excited agreement coursed through the crowd. But then came the unexpected. As the curator removed more items from the chest, things started to get weird. Blueprints for a device that appeared suspiciously modern, a bamboo flute etched with the playful inscription, "For leisure only. No wars allowed!" and a torn calligraphy scroll bearing the cryptic message, "Don''t believe in superstition! Must believe in science!" And then, nestled among the scrolls, was a leather-bound diary. Its brittle and smudged pages held writing in a script with a strangely familiar modern hand. A few historians started scratching their heads at the sight. Others frowned. "What the¡­ these sketches¡­ they¡¯re centuries ahead of their time," one historian muttered, furrowing his brow. "Forgeries? Or maybe an elaborate hoax?¡± another suggested. "Or," a Zhuge family member whispered with a nervous chuckle, "isn''t this exactly the kind of thing our Zhuge Liang would do?" The room erupted in debate. "These artifacts show the brilliance of Zhuge Liang!" one academic argued. "But some of these pieces... surely they¡¯re later additions, or misinterpretations!" Stepping forward, one of the Zhuge family members broke the silence. "This chest was discovered near a cave where our missing relative disappeared. Perhaps, there might be more information there?" A lead archaeologist¡¯s eyes lit up with renewed determination. "Could there be more artifacts at that site?" Another archaeologist replied, ¡°But search teams have already scoured the area thoroughly. Do you think there would be anything left to find?¡± ********* Far in the past, deep within a shadowy cave, Zhuge Liang slowly regained consciousness. Dazed, he clutched his flute tighter. The cave was cold and damp. It felt¡­ wrong. The last traces of his world slipped away. Chapter 1: Echoes of the Past The world slowly swam back into focus, a dull ache throbbing behind Zhuge Liang''s eyes. He blinked, feeling the rough texture of the cave floor scraping against his cheek. A faint, earthy smell filled his nostrils. A quiet drip-drip of water into a pool entered his ears. He pushed himself up, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his temple. He figured he must have been knocked out by a falling rock during the tremor. Amused, he found that he was still holding onto the flute he was playing when the shaking started. He ran his hands over his body, checking for injuries. Aside from a few scrapes and bruises, he seemed relatively unharmed. "Lucky," he muttered, his voice echoing in the damp stillness of the cave. He stood and slowly swept his gaze across the dimly lit space. The earthquake, or whatever it was, had clearly taken its toll. Debris littered the floor, and cracks were found all over the cave walls. As he made his way carefully towards the cave exit, a chilling sight stopped him in his tracks. A figure lay sprawled on the ground near a pool of water, unmoving. Zhuge Liang rushed forward. His heart pounding. The man was clearly injured, his breathing shallow and ragged. He appeared to have been caught in the same cave-in that had knocked Zhuge Liang unconscious. He knelt beside the injured man, frantically trying to remember the first aid training he received while in the military. As he examined the wounds, he couldn''t help but marvel at the man''s clothing. It was like something from the historical dramas he¡¯d glanced at occasionally. It was a mix of roughspun fabric and intricate fastenings that spoke of a bygone era. "What is this, some kind of historical reenactment?" he wondered aloud. As he gently cleaned the man''s wounds, he noticed something unsettling: the man''s face. His breath hitched. The injured man¡¯s face wasn¡¯t just familiar! It was his face! Not ¡°looks like me¡± familiar, but ¡°looking into a damn mirror¡± familiar! His stomach twisted. What the hell was going on?" Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the man''s eyelids fluttered open. His gaze was weak, but lucid. "Who¡­ who are you?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "My name is Zhuge Liang," he replied, leaning closer. "What''s yours?" The injured man''s lips trembled. "Zhu¡­ Ge¡­ Liang," he breathed, his voice fading. "Born¡­ fifteenth day¡­ second month¡­ fourth year of Guanghe." He gasped, his eyes fluttering closed once more. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Zhuge Liang''s gasped! The fifteenth day of the second lunar month... that was his own birthday, the twentieth of March, 2000! "That''s¡­ that''s my name and my birthday too," he stammered! Zhuge Liang tried to rouse him, but it was too late. The man''s breathing ceased, his body going limp. He was gone. Zhuge Liang stared at the lifeless form, his mind a whirlwind of confusion. The uncanny resemblance, the shared name, the identical birthday¡­ it was too much to be a coincidence. "This¡­ this is insane," he muttered. Did he just witness himself dying? Looking around, Zhuge Liang finally realized this cave was definitely not the same one where he had set up camp. At first, he thought he was still in Hebei. Maybe the quake knocked him into a different section of the cave? But... where was his gear? And why did everything feel so different? None of his gear, with the exception of his trusty swiss army knife, magnesium fire starter, and survival knife that is carried on his body is anywhere to be found. The cracks in the walls¡­ the way the debris had fallen¡­ something about it felt off. Almost like¡­ no, that wasn¡¯t possible. The rock formations didn¡¯t match what he remembered! His so-called brilliant engineering mind, warped by countless isekai anime, began to formulate a theory. "This looks suspiciously like a different world¡­ Have I just been isekai¡¯ed?" he whispered, "Transported to another world, another time? No truck-kun but killed by cave-in?". He starts getting excited thinking ¡°If I have been isekai¡¯ed, I must have the ¡®system¡¯ or some god granting me abilities!¡± At which point he starts shouting, "System! God! Anyone there?¡± he yelled, his voice echoing through the cave. ¡°''Where''s my status screen? My cheat abilities?" He waved his hands around, like he was trying to use a touch screen. "Hello?" he asked to the silent cave. ¡°Open inventory! Display map! Summon OP allies!¡± before sighing in frustration, muttering, ¡°Figures. No Wi-Fi, no god powers. Just great.¡± With a sigh, he accepted that he was on his own, no system, no god given abilities, just him. He looked down at the dead man, then back at his own hands, strangely calm despite everything he had just experienced. He started to realize that this is not Hebei, and this is crazy. Completely insane. But what else could he do? If he was stuck here ¨C wherever ¡°here¡± was. He couldn¡¯t exactly go around introducing himself as a lost engineer from the 21st century, could he. Thinking logically, although he didn¡¯t wake up in this guys¡¯ body like most isekai settings, taking this guy¡¯s identity might still be the only way for him to survive. His chunni self thinking, "If I''m going to survive here, I need to fit in. I need to become him." He then sighed, ¡°Sure, I can ¡®fit in.¡¯ I just need to figure out how to churn butter, shoot arrows, and ride a horse without falling on my face.¡± With a sudden, almost desperate resolve, he made his decision. He would assume the identity of the dead Zhuge Liang and try to make sense of this impossible situation. "Don''t believe in superstition! Must believe in science!" he proclaimed to the silent cave, even as his circumstances defied the very science he so desperately wishes to believe in. Chapter 2: Arrival in Uncharted Territory 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¡ªfuture self?¡ªneeded 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." Chapter 3: The Scholar of Longzhong Zhuge Liang''s first few days in Longzhong village were a mess ¨C a total mix of frantic activity and bewildered confusion. He first attempted to patch the leaky roof with what he called "reinforced polymer sheeting". It was just an assortment of random leaves and mud. He then tried to build what he thought of as an "ergonomic seating arrangement". The result? A wobbly stool made of uneven branches. His attempts to recreate modern conveniences were a comedy of errors. He tried to build a water filter to purify the water from the well but his mind drew a blank. He was so used to buying them off the shelf that he couldn¡¯t figure out how to craft them from scratch. "Come on, brain," he muttered, staring at a pile of rocks and reeds. "Think! Activated carbon... something... layers..." In the end, he ended up just boiling the water. When he tried to build a so-called "solar-powered lighting system" for his house, he only managed to startle a few chickens and momentarily blind a passing goat. "Figures," he grumbled. "No Wi-Fi, no solar panels... just rocks. What am I going to do without Internet or Baidu?" However, his attempts to improve the villagers'' lives with simple, practical solutions were surprisingly successful. He showed them how to sharpen tools more efficiently using his trusty survival knife as a prop. He tried to show them how to create a more stable fire pit, and how to improve the ventilation in their homes. These methods, though basic, were effective and earned him a reputation as a resourceful, if slightly eccentric, man. However, it was not without some minor mishaps. "Alright, improving airflow should be simple. Just widen this opening and¡­" Ten minutes later, a coughing villager stumbled out of his house, waving away a cloud of thick smoke. Zhuge Liang grimaced. ¡°Okay, maybe not that wide.¡± His first attempt at a better fire pit resulted in... something. A bizarre, lopsided structure that, if he squinted, almost looked like a modern campfire. That is, if campfires were supposed to collapse sideways. ¡°Arrghhh!!! Where¡¯s Baidu when you need it!¡± He laments. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. As smoke from the bonfire stung his eyes and the smell of the villagers cooking reached his nose, he sat and watched flames dance under the stars. Zhuge Liang felt a pang of nostalgia for his sleek apartment and bustling city streets. Yet, the laughter and shared stories of the villagers sparked a warmth he hadn¡¯t felt in years¡ªa sense of belonging, even in this strange world. One evening, as the villagers sat gathered around a bonfire, Zhuge Liang impulsively pulled out a piece of charcoal and began writing on a smooth piece of wood. The villagers watched, their eyes wide with wonder, as he effortlessly created elegant characters. "You can write?" an elderly woman asked. "A little," Zhuge Liang replied, trying to downplay his skill. Proceeding to write down a few proverbs, he offered to teach any of the villagers who were interested how to read and write. Word of his knowledge spread quickly and it wasn¡¯t long before he acquired his own calligraphy brush. Soon, villagers were bringing him scraps of paper and wood. Either asking him to write down important information, or simply to create beautiful characters for their homes. He thus became the village''s unofficial scribe. He also discovered that many villagers suffered from minor ailments. Relying on the basic first aid knowledge that he learnt while in basic military training, he began to share his knowledge of basic hygiene and first aid. He demonstrated how to properly boil water to purify it, how to create simple bandages from clean cloth, and how to use local herbs for minor injuries. One day, a farmer approached him, complaining about the low yield of his crops. Zhuge Liang, drawing on his elementary knowledge of modern agricultural practices, suggested a simple crop rotation system. As the weeks passed, Zhuge Liang became an integral part of the Longzhong community. He was the resourceful handyman, the skilled scribe, and the knowledgeable advisor. He had established himself as a scholar and a practical problem-solver, all while his attempts to recreate the modern world hilariously failed. He had no choice but to conform to the historical setting. Each evening, once the village had settled down, he would retreat to the warm glow of his lamp. Reflecting on the day¡¯s events he would record his thoughts in the pages of his ever-present diary.