Living on a Mountain with my Husband

Chapter 2: A New Life

Clatter... bang...

Zimo sprung awake in a cold sweat. Just now he had clearly died. The feeling of his skin melting, and the smell of burning flesh and pungent smoke that filled and burned his lungs from the inside was still fresh in his mind. He had heard that things like night terrors could feel incredibly real, but there was no way dying in that fire could be anything but real.

Despite these thoughts he found himself alive. Maybe?

Confusion filled Zimo's head as he looked around the room.

The room was, well the word room could loosely be applied to this dilapidated space. Zimo lay on some damp mouldy hay in what looked like a wooden shed. The sun shined through the gaping cracks in the walls along with a surprisingly pleasant breeze. As Zimo looked around he noticed that laying next to him was a shallow bowl with some water. Zimo's throat felt so dry it was a little painful. Slowly reaching out to drink from the bowl he noticed some rough bandages wrapped around his left wrist. curious he began to unwrap the bandages only to notice a large, deep cut along the inside of his wrist. familiar with this sight Zimo did not panic. He simply stared at it and began to examine the cut. There seemed to be some kind of paste applied to the cut. Most likely it was to stop the bleeding and prevent infection.

After admiring the novel sight on his wrist, Zimo began to exam the rest of his body. He found himself to be wearing what looked to be old rags. Different from what he wore as a child. These were made from coarse cotton in an old Chinese style robe full of rough patchwork. If one had to guess he could only assume he had turned into an beggar in some kind of rural area.

"Amazing... is this the so called, rebirth or transmigration story plot?"

Zimo had often written this kind of book in his career as a novelist. The thought of living in a different time or even world was fascinating. He would often research different ways to make a living based on the different time periods. Whether it was ancient China or the interstellar with mecha and the Zerg. He always enjoyed the genre.

Excited about the current situation Zimo began to stare into space. This was a habit he had developed since childhood. When something sparked his imagination he would zone out and be completely oblivious to everything around him. Thoughts of the many novels he read in the past and those he wrote himself crossed his mind.

"Looking around this must be an ancient China transmigration, and looking at my clothes... I'm definitely not some prince or young master... hum..."

As Zimo immersed himself in his imagination, the door of the shed swung open.

Bang!

"Hey, idiot! Wake up it's time for you to get dressed and head over to your new husband."

The young man yelled as he threw a red outfit towards Zimo.

"Seriously, what were you thinking cutting your wrist. Did you plan to humiliate and shame our family? My mom took the time to raise a white eyed wolf like you for over 15 years. And you repay her by killing yourself just as we are about to finally make a little money. You ungrateful thing. Hey! Are you listening to me? What did you become dumb after cutting yourself? F*! Hey mom, this ungrateful thing has become dumb!"

An old slightly chubby woman entered into the shed next to the young man. Clearly they were related. Both had long narrow eyes and help the chins up high, giving off the impression of arrogance.

"What do you mean he's become dumb?" The old woman asked.

"Just look at him. He hasn't moved an inch, he just keeps staring off into space."

The woman looked over at Zimo, narrowing her eyes until nothing but a thin line remained. Seeing how Zimo had not moved despite them standing next to him, she took her cane and smacked him across the shoulders hard. With a dull sound Zimo awoke from his daydream not knowing what had just happened he instinctively curled up before looking around and noticing the mother and son who had entered the room while he wasn't focusing.