Chapter 1: Visitors in 1878 (Part 1)

The year 1878. Vietnam, Hai Duong Province.
A river patrol ship painted black sailed upstream, its French tricolor flag flying proudly on the mast. The steam engine, running at full speed, emitted sharp noises, while its darkened cannons scanned the banks for targets.
The once noisy banks of the Red River suddenly fell silent as people, filled with fear, closed their windows.
A priest dressed in ceremonial robes frantically crossed himself on the deck, shouting, “Those damned pagans! Those barbaric bandits!”
The captain searched the shore through his telescope while trying to calm the angry priest. “Father Nguyen Vu Minh! The French Navy will resolve all difficulties for God’s messengers!”
Though called Father Nguyen, this priest had blond hair and blue eyes—he was a typical French citizen. Nguyen Vu Minh was merely his Vietnamese name. He had dedicated nearly a decade to France’s colonial cause.
Father Nguyen regarded this as a special honor. His hands trembled as he gripped the railing. “I cannot help but be furious. I have served God and France for twenty years, yet this is the first time I’ve faced such unreasonable threats and attacks from these bandits. There they are!”
At that moment, the patrol ship turned sharply, passing through the dense mangroves along the riverbank, and the bandits mentioned by the priest came into sight.
One soldier said, “It seems there are civilians there.”
Father Nguyen Vu Minh retorted loudly, “That’s the Chinese Liu Bang gang, threatening France’s interests! They’re bandits!”
The captain could see clearly through his telescope. The group was gathered on the riverbank, arguing excitedly, when they were suddenly startled by the appearance of the patrol ship.
Their shock was evident; they didn’t even react, remaining frozen in place while forcing smiles at the patrol ship.
Among them were old men too frail to walk, and several teenagers, no older than sixteen, stared in astonishment at the suddenly appearing warship. Among the teens was even an Eastern beauty.
Indeed, among the bandits were also a few burly women—clearly poor Vietnamese civilians. But compared to the Eastern beauty holding a teenager in her arms, they seemed far more ravaged by time.
They didn’t make any hostile moves toward the French patrol ship, but every crew member knew: they were bandits!
But if they had known what kind of upheaval the teenager in the beauty’s arms would cause in future history, they would have immediately focused all their firepower on killing him.
The captain quickly made his decision: “All hands, attention! Fire at will!”
Although most crew members weren’t armed, he saw that about a dozen strong men carried Chinese-style flintlock guns.
These old-fashioned firearms from the 1500s were 400 years behind the times, yet in this Eastern kingdom, they remained the main equipment of the regular army.

The crew reacted swiftly and immediately launched an attack. Without needing a scale or range measurement, one main cannon and two auxiliary cannons fired straight at the crowd, sending out roaring blasts. The entire patrol ship was soon filled with thin white smoke. The shells exploded among those so-called Chinese bandits, with shrapnel knocking down many people. The forced smiles on their faces turned into sharp cries, and more blood dyed the mangroves red. Helpless civilians ran frantically under the hail of bullets. Some shouted in an attempt to negotiate with the patrol ship, but what met them was more gunfire. The young man reacted quickly—he saw the arrogant tricolor flag, the flames from the black gun barrels, countless sprays of blood, faces shattered by shells, his loved ones falling, and a helpless girl staring blankly at the river. He also felt pain in his shoulder but tightly held the girl’s hand, rushing deep into the forest while shouting, “Ningxue, run!” Faced with the tsunami-like barrage of bullets, the girl didn’t understand why they were firing at her, who carried no hatred. It seemed she lost all ability to react at once, but when blood gushed from the young man’s body, she snapped out of it. The French would not negotiate with bandits; they enjoyed desperate screams as music. Seeing civilians wounded and writhing on the ground, they would laugh and shoot again until they could move no more. The crew continued to laugh recklessly, firing rifles at the fleeing crowd and using all their cannons in attack. The captain could clearly see the Eastern beauty still dragging the lucky young man forward desperately. But the Chinese boy seemed to have exhausted all his luck—he was hit again, severely injured, and motionless. The crew’s laughter grew even more unrestrained as they fired their newly reloaded cannons at the poor pair. Shells capable of taking dozens of lives whistled overhead. They could hear the beauty’s sharp screams, but she didn’t release the boy in her arms; instead, she quickened her pace and vanished deep into the mangroves. Now the area around the mangroves was red with blood. After the captain counted seven corpses, the crew let out eerie cries. The captain announced their achievements: “During our patrol, we encountered 200 Chinese bandits armed with rapid-fire rifles and launched a decisive attack, wiping them out completely. The enemy left 70 corpses on the riverbank… Father Ruan, your problem is solved!” “Thank France! Thank God!” Father Ruan Youming delivered the standard French salute: “You have eliminated the long-standing Liu bandit gang. Next, we will go to Haiyang to negotiate with the Annamese governor!” With Father Ruan’s salute, the patrol ship headed toward Haiyang City, leaving only bloodstains on the riverbank. Unbeknownst to them, trouble had just begun.

Father Ruan crossed himself on the deck for the dead in the recent battle: “These poor pagans, these poor Chinese—only hell awaits you!”
The crew grew even more excited. As they turned the patrol ship 360 degrees, they screamed and fired all their weapons at the shore, from revolvers to the ship’s cannons.
To them, this was not war, nor a battle, not even a hunt—it was merely a game in the wild.
This was the conquest of the yellow race by the white race, an expression of absolute confidence.
In 1532, Pizarro conquered the entire Inca Empire with just 168 men; in 1861, thousands of French soldiers looted the Old Summer Palace; in 1873, on this very land, French Captain An Ye led over a hundred soldiers and nearly conquered all of northern Vietnam.
It was giants looking down on ants.
But these arrogant whites had no idea that, beneath their eyes in the mangroves, the tide of history was silently moving in another direction.
“A Yu! A Yu! Wake up!”
The girl shook the boy’s arm desperately, no longer calm as before—she was truly terrified by his unconscious state.
The boy lay motionless, blood seeping from his wounds, turning his shirt into a bloodstained garment. “A Yu, it’s Ningxue. Wake up!”
The gunfire passing by her ears hadn’t scared her, but at this moment, she felt utterly weak and helpless.
Her shrill voice attracted a few stray bullets, followed by the sharp whistling of another shell. The shockwave from behind nearly knocked Jiang Ningxue to the ground, but she still clung tightly to the boy’s hand. “A Yu, wake up!”
No response! The boy’s body grew colder and colder.
Jiang Ningxue hugged A Yu’s chest, her mind blank, calling his name over and over: “Liu Yu! Liu Yu!”
Everything collapsed.
“Liu Yu?”
Just as she despaired, it seemed her ears were malfunctioning—she thought she heard Liu Yu softly calling his own name.
“Liu Yu?”
It wasn’t a dream. She raised her head and saw a miracle—Liu Yu’s face was pale and pained as he repeated his own name: “Liu Yu…”
Her tear-filled eyes blurred. She couldn’t hear anything, see anything—only Liu Yu existed in her heart.
“Jiang… Ning… Xue?”
Countless memories were etched into her mind in an instant, the memories of the two of them merging together.
He felt his memories being torn apart. He was no longer the office worker from the 21st century—he was Liu Yu.
Looking back, everything had changed drastically.
He was confused.
Only the girl’s embrace was warm, as warm as his mother’s.
He could sense his attachment to her through his memories.
“Jiang… Ning… Xue?”
Liu Yu uttered the girl’s name, while unseen by her, the hastily bandaged wound was miraculously healing.
He was Liu Yu.
She was Jiang Ningxue.
It was the year 1878.
A forgotten era.
Vietnam, Hai Duong Province.
A place with no memory in her mind.

She is his fiancée; she is three years older than him.
This is the greatest happiness in this life.
One moment ago, he was just a diligent office worker who enjoyed studying Chinese military history in his spare time and had dreams of glory in battle, but he never imagined he would end up in this era; yet the next moment, he could no longer turn back.
“Is this 1878?”
No one could answer him.
The waves crashed against the riverbank, and the Red River flowed slowly.
Jiang Ningxue’s embrace remained warm and soft.