How did a street urchin from the film crew end up in a Northern Song Dynasty drama called "The

Dengzhou Prefecture, five days later.

Inside the study, the windows were bright and the desk spotless. Sunlight streamed through the window lattice, casting a warm glow on the inkstone. Jin Shuai was looking at a map of the coastal region by the window, his finger lightly tracing lines on it, when he suddenly heard steady footsteps outside the door.

"Your Highness, all your units are ready, and provisions and weapons are prepared. We are ready to depart at any time." A general in armor strode in, bowed, and reported in a firm and powerful tone.

Jin Shuai turned around, his face devoid of its usual gentleness, a cold smile curving his lips, a ruthless glint in his eyes: "Hmm, very good. Once you get there, get back at me." He paused, his voice carrying an undeniable air of authority, "Since you dared to provoke the tiger, you must be prepared to pay the price. Remember, be clean and do it neatly, don't leave any leverage, so no one can find fault with you."

"Your subordinate obeys!" the general replied in a deep voice, bowed again, then turned and strode away, his steps carrying an unstoppable momentum.

Not long after the general left, the study door was gently pushed open, and Hua Lan entered carrying a steaming bowl of medicinal soup, the aroma of which filled the air. "My lord, it's time to drink your medicine." She placed the bowl on the desk, her eyes full of concern as she looked at Jin Shuai.

Jin Shuai looked at the bowl of thick, dark medicine and couldn't help but smile bitterly—his tongue had been almost soaked in bitterness from drinking medicine for the past few days. But when he met Hua Lan's worried gaze, he didn't say anything in the end. He picked up the bowl, tilted his head back, and drank it all in one gulp. The bitter medicine slid down his throat, leaving a sweet aftertaste in his mouth.

Seeing that he had finished drinking, Hua Lan quickly picked up a glistening piece of candy from a nearby dish and handed it to him, saying softly, "Quickly suck on a piece of candy to calm your nerves." After Jin Shuai sucked on the candy, she asked softly, "Judging from how happy Commander Liu looked just now, is he going to Laizhou?"

Jin Shuai, with a candy in his mouth, felt the sweetness on his tongue gradually dispel the bitterness of the medicine. He smiled, his tone becoming more relaxed: "Hehe, you noticed too? I don't have any other faults, but I'll eat anything, except for one thing: I'm never one to suffer a loss." He picked up the teacup on the table and took a sip of tea. "Actually, even if I didn't give the order, these guys are holding back their anger and will eventually find a chance to sneak off to Laizhou to cause trouble. It's better if I give the order and let them go and cause some trouble, so they can vent their frustrations."

He changed the subject, his expression turning serious: "Furthermore, Laizhou is too close to Dengzhou. We should clean it up properly and create a buffer zone. Otherwise, we'll be caught off guard when someone sneaks up on our doorstep. This is a good opportunity to wipe out those restless forces and let the surrounding people know that Dengzhou is not a place that anyone can mess with."

Hua Lan listened and nodded. Although she still had some worries, she understood his considerations. Dengzhou was their homeland; only by protecting this land could they have a peaceful life. She picked up the empty medicine bowl and said softly, "Since my husband has already made plans, then let them be extra careful. I'll go to the kitchen and make you some soup to nourish your body."

Jin Shuai smiled and agreed, but as he watched Hua Lan's departing figure, the smile in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by a deep look. Some scores must be settled; some troubles should be resolved once and for all.

Time flies, and three years have passed in the blink of an eye. Under General Jin's rule, Dengzhou is no longer the ordinary prefecture that once depended on the Song Dynasty. Influenced by the new ideas he brought, this land is transforming at an astonishing pace—wide and flat brick roads have replaced muddy ancient paths, and small, bustling workshops can be seen along the streets, with the rhythmic sound of spinning machines replacing the slow pace of traditional weaving; in the fields, improved farming tools and newly cultivated grain seeds have increased yields several times over, and farmers' granaries are full year-round; in the markets, in addition to traditional rice, flour, oil, and salt, there are many new items labeled "Made in Dengzhou," from lightweight iron kitchen utensils to small alarm clocks that can keep track of time, attracting merchants from surrounding prefectures to compete for purchase.

In the medical clinic, doctors in white coats no longer relied solely on observation, auscultation, inquiry, and palpation. Medicine in glass jars and magnifying glasses capable of revealing minute details became common tools. The cries of children receiving vaccinations mingled with the soothing voices of mothers, yet conveyed a sense of hope for new life. Even more remarkably, Jin Shuai never discriminated against social status in his personnel appointments. The accountant might have been a down-on-his-luck scholar who once told fortunes on the street, and the head of the machinery workshop might have been a blacksmith in his early years. Everyone could find their place and utilize their talents. The entire Dengzhou functioned like a sophisticated instrument, operating efficiently and systematically, gradually diverging from the traditional landscape of the Song Dynasty heartland—as if they were two completely different worlds.

That day, a secret letter from the capital city of Tokyo was delivered to Jin Shuai's desk by a fast horse. Unfolding the letter, the handwriting, though somewhat hasty, clearly outlined the turmoil in the capital: the power struggle between Empress Cao and Zhao Zongshi had finally come to a conclusion, with the Empress's defeat inevitable. To preserve his reputation for "benevolence," Zhao Zongshi did not kill Empress Cao, but instead vented his anger on the princesses left behind by Zhao Zhen—with a single decree, they were banished from the palace, left without titles or stipends, and abandoned to the marketplace to fend for themselves.

The letter also mentioned that Gu Tingye had repeatedly offered ingenious strategies in this struggle and was now Zhao Zongshi's most capable right-hand man, enjoying unparalleled prestige. Zhao Zongshi even intended to let him command all the troops in the country, but this was met with fierce opposition from the civil official group. The Censorate's impeachment memorials piled up like a small mountain, all echoing the old adage that "military generals holding power is a great taboo for the country."

Jin Shuai tapped his fingers on the table, his gaze falling on the last few lines of the letter: "The border generals of the Great Song Dynasty are currently in a precarious situation. Some are holding fast to their cities, afraid to make any rash moves, while others are using the pretext of war to distance themselves from the central government, resulting in a fragmented and difficult-to-reclaim military power. Zhao Zongshi has long harbored the idea of ​​regaining military power, but was delayed by Empress Cao's power grab. Now that the obstacles in the harem have been cleared, this matter will naturally be put back on the agenda. I fear that the winds of war in the capital will once again blow towards the border troops."

He folded the letter and looked out the window at the clear sky over Dengzhou. The tranquility here contrasted sharply with the undercurrents in Tokyo, and he knew that this peace might not last long—Zhao Zongshi would sooner or later have his eyes on him across the mountains and rivers.

However, Jin Shuai was not too worried about this. He knew in his heart that the ruthless and heartless new emperor Zhao Zongshi would not sit on the throne for long—history had already determined that he would only be emperor for four years before his eldest son Zhao Shuo would succeed him.

What truly troubled Jin Shuai was Gu Tingye. If Zhao Zongshi really sent this man with troops to cause trouble in Dengzhou, should he kill him? Although Gu Tingye was the new emperor's henchman and had opposed him many times over the years, he was still somewhat involved with his family. If he really had to take action, he would have to think twice.

Lost in thought, several more days passed quietly. On this day, Commander Jin received a letter from Cao Ping in the south. The letter said that the warships he was supervising were all completed, and the soldiers were well-trained and ready to set sail at any time to launch an attack on Japan according to the previous plan.

After reading the letter, Jin Shuai picked up his pen and wrote a reply. The ink on the paper was steady and powerful: "The warships are complete, very good. As for the attack on Japan, you can send a capable general; you don't need to go in person. After arranging your affairs, bring Huirou to Dengzhou as soon as possible; there are important matters to discuss."

After writing it, he read it carefully, and after confirming that it was correct, he sealed the letter and handed it to his personal guard to be delivered quickly. Huirou was Zhao Zhen's most beloved daughter, and now that her sisters had been driven out of the palace by Zhao Zongshi and were homeless, Jin Shuai thought it was time to proceed with the next step of his plan.

"Grandpa, Grandma, Daddy's ironclad ship is back!" A six-year-old child shouted excitedly at the Dengzhou port, pointing to the large ship in the distance.

At dusk in Dengzhou Port, the sea breeze, carrying a salty and damp scent, swept across the shore. The golden glow of the setting sun, like molten gold, was splashed onto the shimmering sea, coating the returning ships with a warm halo.

"Grandpa! Grandma! Look! Daddy's ironclad ship is back!" A child of about six years old, wearing a small short jacket, pointed at the huge ship billowing black smoke on the distant sea and jumped up and down excitedly, his little face full of joy.

Jin Shuai stood on the shore, his wife Hua Lan beside him, her temples already streaked with gray, yet still remarkably spry. He gazed at the ship, bathed in the afterglow of the setting sun, slowly approaching, its massive hull cutting through the waves, leaving long ripples in its wake. For a moment, he was lost in thought. Time had etched deep marks on his face; the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes held the marks of over thirty years of hardship. Unbeknownst to him, he had become an elderly man surrounded by his children and grandchildren in this world.

Memories from over thirty years ago flooded his mind like a tide. After urgently summoning Cao Ping and Huirou to Dengzhou, he began to plan step by step. With his foresight and the power at his disposal, he spent several years finally returning the Song Dynasty's territory to the descendants of Zhao Zhen, thus fulfilling a promise he made to that benevolent old emperor.

From then on, he gradually withdrew from the core of the court, devoting all his energy to scientific research and navigation. Occasionally, he would offer his opinions as an observer on the development direction of the Song Dynasty and its strategies for foreign conquests. This knowledge from later generations took root and sprouted on this land like seeds, enabling the Song Dynasty to undergo a complete transformation in just a few decades. Its territory expanded continuously, and its fleets reached distant lands, thus ushering in its own imperial era.

The armored ship slowly approached the shore, and the massive anchor sank into the sea with a loud clang, splashing water everywhere. On the deck, a general in a new military uniform strode down the gangway, his posture upright and his bearing imposing, with a hint of the former Marshal Jin still visible in his features.

He strode up to Jin Shuai and Hua Lan, solemnly gave a standard military salute, and said in a loud and respectful voice, "Father, Mother, your son has returned."

Hua Lan looked at her handsome son, her wrinkles deepening with a smile. She stepped forward, gently patted his arm, and said with love and relief, "It's good to be back, it's good to be back. You must be tired from the journey. Come on, let's go home. Dinner is all ready for you."

Inside the Prince's mansion, the lights were bright and the atmosphere was lively. Red lanterns hanging under the corridors illuminated the courtyard with a festive glow. Servants bustled about, their faces beaming with smiles. The air was filled with the aroma of food and the sounds of laughter, creating a warm and harmonious atmosphere.

Jin Shuai's eldest son had just returned from his maiden voyage and was currently surrounded by a group of people in the center of the courtyard. Several aunts asked him questions with great curiosity about the details of the voyage, while his younger siblings clung to his sleeves, chattering incessantly, "Big brother, are there really fish that glow at sea?" "Do all those foreigners have blue eyes?"

He was incredibly patient, his face bearing the dust of a long voyage, yet showing no signs of fatigue. He answered everyone's questions one by one, occasionally patting his younger siblings' heads as he vividly recounted his overseas experiences: "You didn't see it, but the ports in the West were bustling with activity, people of all skin colors coming and going, ships laden with spices and gems we'd never seen before... And once, our ship encountered a gigantic whale; the jet of water it spouted was taller than the gate tower of our royal palace!"

Jin Shuai and Hua Lan stood side by side, watching this heartwarming scene with smiles. Hua Lan occasionally raised her hand to tidy the stray hairs at her temples, her eyes filled with the joy of being a mother; Jin Shuai held a cup of tea, his gaze fixed on the children, his eyes gentle.

Over the years, he has always adhered to one principle: to let his children develop freely. He never forcibly plans their lives, only offering guidance when they are confused and directing them when they make mistakes, never interfering with the direction they choose. Whether they want to devote themselves to sailing, be engrossed in the study of things, or wish to study classics and history, he fully supports them.

Looking at the vibrant children before him, Jin Shuai couldn't help but think of the future. There, children, at a young age, had to bear heavy academic burdens. To stand out in fierce competition, they had to bid farewell to their carefree childhoods early and were forced to face the cruel social selection mechanism. Technological advancements have indeed brought convenience to life, but they have also created ubiquitous competitive pressure, presenting the natural law of "survival of the fittest" to everyone in a more direct and cruel way.

"It's better this way." Hua Lan seemed to see through his thoughts and said softly, "It's better for the children to live according to their own wishes than anything else."

Jin Shuai turned to look at her, smiled, nodded, and downed his cup of tea in one gulp. The tea's fragrance was refreshing, just like the passing years—perhaps not perfect, but warm enough, enough for every life to grow freely, and that was enough. The laughter in the courtyard continued, mingling with the scent of the sea breeze, echoing long into the night.

Jin Shuai stood to one side, his gaze fixed on his son. Though the child bore the dust of a long voyage, a bright light shone between his brows, as if the sun, moon, and stars of the sea had been blended into his features. Turning his head again, he saw Hua Lan surrounded by her grandchildren, the silver strands at her temples gleaming softly in the lamplight, her eyes brimming with joy as she smiled. The scene was as warm and comforting as a painting, and a satisfied smile involuntarily spread across Jin Shuai's lips, even softening the wrinkles around his eyes.

Without disturbing anyone, he quietly turned and walked along the corridor into the depths of the garden. The night breeze ruffled his robes, carrying the fragrance of grass and trees, dispelling some of the daytime noise. Reaching the familiar pavilion, he climbed the steps and sat down on the stone bench.

Looking up, the night sky was as black as ink, dotted with countless stars, like scattered diamonds, dense and bright, much clearer than the night sky of later generations, which was bathed in the glow of lights. The sea breeze blew from the distant sea, carrying a faint salty taste, and when it brushed against his cheeks, it made him feel somewhat dazed.

Thoughts are like a kite with a broken string, drifting uncontrollably into the distance, surging in the long river of memory.

He recalled his past life, that city of steel and concrete, bustling with traffic and flashing neon lights. Office lights shone late into the night, the sound of keyboards clicking incessantly, everyone rushing about for a living, like clockwork. He remembered the days and nights he spent working at his desk, the crowded subways, and the sky fragmented by skyscrapers when he occasionally looked up—the stars back then were always sparse, far less dazzling than here.

Then came the accident; his consciousness plunged into darkness, and when he opened his eyes again, he was already in the Song Dynasty a thousand years ago. From initial bewilderment to later careful planning; from the turbulent times in the capital city of Kaifeng to the arduous pioneering work in Dengzhou, he carried the memories of his future life, taking root and growing in this unfamiliar land. He witnessed the intrigues of the court and experienced the clash of swords on the battlefield; he encountered gentle monarchs like Zhao Zhen and clashed with suspicious emperors like Zhao Zongshi.

He recalled Hualan's shyness when she first married, Tianxiang's intelligence and wit, and the way the children babbled as they learned to speak; he recalled the excitement of building the first steamship with his own hands, the satisfaction of watching Dengzhou transform from desolation to prosperity, and the pride of planting the flag of the Great Song Dynasty on more distant lands.

In the blink of an eye, decades have passed. Memories of the past life are like faded old photographs, clear but lacking warmth; while the details of this life are like lines etched on bones, each stroke carrying a vibrant life.

Who exactly is he? Is he a soul from the future, or Jin Shuai, who has gradually come to be where he is today?

Perhaps, there's no need to distinguish anymore.

The chirping of insects outside the pavilion mingled with the faint laughter drifting from afar, creating a gentle and comforting atmosphere. Jin Shuai gazed at the starry sky, slowly closed his eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips. Regardless of his past life, this life—with a wife and children, a place to call home, and a career to rely on—was already the best possible ending.

The night breeze swept through the pavilion, carrying the scent of time, gently brushing against his hair...