The Most Powerful Young Master of the Northern Song Dynasty

Chapter 1: Prologue

On Wang Anshi’s Second Son and His Concubine “What a national disaster! Not only has war broken out again, but Old Wang next door has also fallen from grace.” “Which Old Wang?” “Wang Anshi of the Grain Transport Bureau.” In the fifth year of the Huangyou era, the common people in the markets of Shuzhou were buzzing with talk: Last month, Nong Zhigao advanced once more, and Guangzhou fell. Amid the chaos, the emperor overruled opposition and appointed Di Qing to quell the rebellion. Before Di Qing and Yu Jing’s forces had even reached the front lines, Chen Shu defied his commander’s orders and, in a bid to claim credit, led 8,000 men into battle prematurely. He suffered a crushing defeat at Kunlun Pass, nearly losing his entire army. At this moment, when there was still no sign of hope in the Guangnan region, trouble struck the home of the local official whom the people of Shuzhou trusted most. It was said that after a clap of thunder, a fire broke out at the Wang Anshi residence. “Magistrate Wang is the hope of our dynasty. If something happens to him, we common folk will have no hope left.” The people prayed fervently for the “Honest Magistrate” Wang… When Wang Bang opened his eyes, he felt something was very strange. Although he’d never time-traveled before, judging by the situation, it seemed he had. His body had shrunk to a very small size—he wasn’t even sure if he looked ten years old. He had been on a business trip to Anqing City for a livestock exchange conference. His flight was delayed, and when he arrived at the hotel intending to play a game on his laptop, an earthquake struck and his laptop exploded. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in this ancient setting. “I’ve definitely been transported to another world—I need to adapt quickly.” Wang Bang had always been able to tell the difference between reality and dreams, so instead of acting all cool like the time-travelers in novels, he began to survey his surroundings. Oh no—though the room was spacious, the furniture and fixtures were very old and worn. He looked around again. Oh no, oh no. Judging by the looks of it, he seemed to be a young master, but there were only three people in the room at the moment: a young, beautiful woman, and two men approaching middle age standing behind her with their heads slightly bowed. That was called “guest etiquette”—a traditional stance between servants and their masters in ancient times. If only two servants had come after the young master’s accident, that meant this wasn’t a grand estate. Looking again—this is hopeless! There was no one resembling a “master of the house” at the scene of the incident—it seemed he’d ended up with a heartless father. One of the men, noticing that the young master’s eyes darted about restlessly upon waking—his demeanor and expression taking on a cunning air unlike his usual self—tried to say, “It’s a joy that the young master has awakened; Madam, please do not grieve. Young Master, say something to cheer your mother up; don’t let her worry herself sick.” But Wang Bang dared not speak. After all, if a child not yet ten years old were to speak with the mature tone he would have in his later life, there was a real possibility they might mistake him for a demon and drown him in the pond. In certain regions of ancient times, clans could be quite depraved—this was exactly the sort of thing they loved to do. The other man, however, didn’t think twice; he stamped his foot and exclaimed anxiously, “Oh no, the young master can’t speak anymore!” “My son, your younger brother and sister both died in infancy. You are the apple of the Wang family’s eye. Don’t make your mother worry—quickly say something you usually say to put her mind at ease.” The beautiful, well-groomed woman sat down by the bed and gently stroked Wang Bang’s little head with her fair, delicate hand, her eyes filled with tenderness. Wang Bang paused in surprise. So this family’s surname was Wang, too? “All right, if you don’t want to talk, then don’t. When you’re ready to speak, Mother will come see you again.” The beautiful woman pulled Wang Bang’s head toward her, resting it against her chest and gently stroking it a couple of times. The sensation was strange—a mixture of many different emotions. Wang Bang maintained his composure with remarkable self-control. At some point, they all left, and the room fell silent. Whoa— Little Wang immediately jumped out of bed; perhaps influenced by this child’s body, even the way he got out of bed took on a mischievous, childlike air. He took a couple of barefoot steps across the floor, but felt his posture was a bit lewd—not befitting a young boy—so he hurriedly adjusted it. Hmm, now that seems more like it. But before he had a chance to pat himself on the back for his cleverness, he spotted a huge dung beetle rolling toward him. Startled, Xiao Wang let out a shriek and scrambled back onto the bed. Come to think of it, where would you see such a huge bug in modern times? He froze for a moment—the scream was unmistakably a child’s voice, which meant his accent had changed as well. This meant he was one step closer to the safety line. Just then— The scream caused the door to swing open, and a little girl who looked to be under four years old walked in. She chewed on her finger as she stared at Wang Bang. Wang Bang quickly ordered, “Little girl, I command you to kill this bug.” “Okay.” The little girl hopped over and, with a squish, stomped on the dung beetle. The sound of it shattering, combined with the sight of its juices squirting out, sent a chill down the spine of the pampered Wang Bang. Then the little maid looked at Wang Bang with wide eyes, as if seeking praise. “Aren’t you a little surprised that I’ve changed?” Wang Bang chuckled. The little girl didn’t quite understand but was clearly impressed, continuing to stare at him. “Heaven sent me here so that the whole world can live the high life alongside me—it’s the will of Heaven. A destined overlord needs a core team, and you’re my very first member.” Wang Bang wouldn’t dare let his true colors show to others, but he could get away with spinning a tall tale to a four-year-old girl. The little girl was delighted upon hearing this and clapped her hands as she hopped up and down. “Hehe,” Wang Bang couldn’t help but chuckle. Although he wasn’t born into wealth, starting out with a little girl whose gear was all scavenged was actually quite interesting—it was a case of self-reliance and hard work. Now that the dung beetle was dead, Wang Bang grew bolder. He stepped barefoot onto the ground again, trying out several different walking styles, eager to find the one that most closely resembled a young master. “Da Bang, what are you doing?” the little girl asked curiously. Wang Bang, who suffered from persecution complex, was immediately struck with dread. She actually knew I was “Da Bang”—could it be that she’d also been transported here? Or did she have X-ray vision that could spot monsters? “Da Bang, what are you doing?” the little girl asked again. “Let me test you first. Tell me my name. Who my father is. Where we are. What year it is. If you can’t explain it clearly, I’ll expel you,” Wang Bang said, regaining her composure for the moment. The little girl obediently replied, “Your name is Wang Bang. You’re ten years old this year. Our father is Wang Anshi. This is Shuzhou. It’s the fifth year of the Huangyou era.” So it was Wang Bang in Wang Bang’s body—and he had a dad who would become incredibly influential in the future? When the little girl said, “Our dad is Wang Anshi,” it turned out she was my younger sister. At first, I’d thought she was the maid’s daughter because she was dressed shabbily, with dry, yellow hair and looked malnourished. “Let’s continue your training… Actually, what I mean is, let’s continue our lessons. What official position does our father hold now?” Wang Bang asked. “He is the Deputy Magistrate of Shuzhou and concurrently the Transport Commissioner of Huaixi. People in the underworld call him ‘Wang the Transport Commissioner,’” the little girl recited as if reading from a textbook. Wang Bangwei’s mouth immediately twisted into a grin—she was definitely the daughter of a high-ranking official. Transport Commissioner of Huaixi and Deputy Magistrate of Shuzhou Prefecture—in terms of the political system of later generations, this would be equivalent to a member of the Provincial Party Standing Committee. Moreover, while a member of the Provincial Party Standing Committee in later times would have at least two superiors, in the Song Dynasty, within the “provincial region” of the Huainan West Circuit, Wang Anshi’s father had no superiors above him. That was quite something—he’d won right from the starting line, thanks to having a pretty impressive dad. Plus, starting out with a little girl had allowed Wang Bang to basically sort out the current situation. Of course, there’s also the possibility of getting screwed over. Wang Anshi is a tyrant—a very strict man—so let’s hope he doesn’t get crushed by him… The next morning, it started to rain, dripping steadily onto the ceiling of Wang Bang’s room. “So Dad embezzled a batch of provisions and is in a hurry to send his lackeys to offload them on the black market.” With that, Little Wang felt reassured. The little girl corrected him: “Don’t talk nonsense. Guangzhou has already fallen. General Di was called upon to lead the troops in this time of crisis and needs supplies to replenish his forces. Our dad is urgently sending provisions to support him.” Wang Bang said, “I was just saying the opposite. With a dad like that, I feel like I’ve suddenly grown taller.” Wang Xiaoya added, “Da Bang, our Great Song Dynasty can win this war, right? General Di will succeed, won’t he? Zhao Shidan swore never to retreat; he led his troops and his entire family to defend Kangzhou and died in battle. That’s why I’m so worried.” Wang Bang asked curiously, “How do you know all this?” “I don’t know,” she said, biting her finger. “Zhao Shidan, the prefect of Kangzhou, was an old friend of my dad’s. After his whole family was killed in battle, my dad was so overcome with grief that he couldn’t sleep for three nights straight. He kept muttering these things to himself, so I overheard them and picked them up.” Wang Bang paused for a moment, thinking to himself: My loyal dad really is brave and loyal. “The Ghost-Faced General can beat Nong Zhigao, right?” the little girl asked stubbornly. Of course, Nong Zhigao was no match for Di Qing. In the Battle of Kunlun Pass, Di Qing cemented his status as the “War God of the Song Dynasty”—though his own end was not far off. Before the battle at Kunlun Pass, he would commit the gravest political blunder of his life. As a military official in the Song Dynasty, he had no human rights to begin with. Now that Fan Zhongyan, who had protected him, was no longer alive, he had gone and committed a politically incorrect act. He was essentially finished. Wang Xiaoya continued, “He can beat him, right?” Wang Bang nodded, stood up, took the basin from her hands, and picked her up. This embrace gave him a start—apart from her dry, yellow hair, the little girl’s frame was surprisingly thin; she was incredibly light. Leaning back against Wang Bang’s chest, she continued to chew on her finger, gazing absently at the spot where the rain was leaking through the roof. After Shao Qing, she said, “Look, the floor’s wet. Bugs like dampness. Once it gets wet, the bugs will come and bite you.” “I really love this little girl,” Wang Bang murmured to himself…