Chapter 1: A Marriage I Don’t Remember

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Shi Yue opened his eyes to the scent of dried hay, cold air brushing his cheek like silk, and an unfamiliar heaviness in his limbs. His head throbbed, and his throat felt dry, as if he hadn’t drunk water for days.

Wait… where is this?

The ceiling above him was made of rough, dark wood. The walls were thin and cracked. There were no wires, no paint, no fan — only an oil lamp flickering in the corner of the room.

A sense of dread prickled his spine.

The last thing he remembered was crossing the street — a blaring horn, a screeching brake, then everything went black.

But now…

He slowly sat up, and something shifted on his head — a red cloth, heavy and embroidered. It slipped from his hair to his lap. The bedding he was wrapped in was red too. His clothes were unfamiliar, old-fashioned — wide sleeves, stiff collar, and silk that smelled faintly of incense.

Then the door creaked.

A man walked in, carrying a wooden bowl.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, with skin tanned from years of labor. His hair was pulled back, face clean but plain, clothes patched and dull. Yet his eyes — dark, quiet, and steady — locked onto Shi Yue with a startled expression.

“You're awake...” he said. His voice was low, slightly hoarse.

Shi Yue stared.

The man placed the bowl down. “You fainted during the wedding ceremony. You’ve been asleep for three days. The physician said you were weak and malnourished.”

Wedding...?

Shi Yue’s gaze dropped to his hands. They were smaller than his original ones — the nails a little cracked, skin dry. Not his hands.

Not his body.

His pulse quickened.

“Who am I?” he asked, cautious.

The man blinked. “Shi Yue… my husband.”

Shi Yue froze.

Husband?

The man hesitated, then looked away. “I’m Han Liang. We… were matched through the town registry. You agreed to the marriage.”

I agreed?

Shi Yue felt like laughing. What kind of cosmic joke was this? He died, and now he had transmigrated… into a world where he was married to a man, living in a barely-standing house?

A wave of dizziness returned. He leaned back against the wall.

“I don’t remember anything,” he muttered.

Han Liang turned toward him, confused. “You don’t remember… me?”

Shi Yue shook his head. “Nothing. Not even who I was.”

There was a long pause.

Han Liang didn’t move closer. He simply nodded once. “Alright. You should eat. Then… rest more.”

He turned and walked out, his footsteps soft despite his heavy build.

Shi Yue stared at the steaming porridge beside him — too watery, barely seasoned.

His stomach growled.

Well, modern or ancient… hunger was still hunger.

He picked up the wooden spoon and took a slow sip.

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That night, Shi Yue didn’t sleep.

He lay awake, staring at the wooden beams above him, thinking.

So he had transmigrated — that much was clear.

Into a world where "gers" existed — third-gender people who could bear children. And from the looks of things… he was one.

And he was married. To a quiet man. In a poor house. With no memory, no money, and no plan.

A long sigh escaped his lips.

“Fine,” he whispered to himself, “If this is fate, then I’ll live it my way.”

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