Battle Through Reverse Morals (1) - Untitled (Patreon)

An experimental first chapter, gimme feedback.

Summary:

The willful heavens and their tribulations are the last of Zayn, now Wei Shi’s, problems.

He doesn’t want to defy an abstract force that fancies itself as an arbitrary deity—instead he's on a far more meaningful journey of increasing his manhood in a world of cultivation and reverse morals, lest he become the laughing stock of the entire realm.

And if he somehow speedruns his way to the top, well, that's just by pure accident?

Now, he's just got to somehow convince the actual protagonist of this world that she doesn't need to slaughter an entire clan, three generations of distant cousins and all of their ancestral chickens just to prove a point.

Fuckin' hell.

…

Chapter 1: 

Sunlight.

It was a strange thing to be conscious of, as if this were his first time experiencing it.

Zayn surfaced from a dark, placid lake of nothingness, breaking through to a world of blinding gold. The light filtered through an unfamiliar window, tracing dust motes dancing in the air. He blinked, and the world came into focus. Rich, dark wood paneling. Silk sheets, cool against his skin.

Where did such a sprawling vision of wealth and luxury come from?

He blinked, closed his eyes, and opened them again.

Still here.

Wherever here was.

Which was nowhere he actually knew.

He winced, bringing a hand up to touch his head, where the mother of all migraines was giving birth to another pesky little bastard, and it was clearly having complications. 

A soft gasp from the side of the room. 

A young man with delicate features and hair pinned up in a complicated knot, dressed in some kind of elaborate, flowing robes, was dusting a jade statue with a cloth.

The maid—no, the butler—looked up. Was he even a servant? And why would one even be here? 

Wherever the fuck here was. 

"Awake... Young Master is awake!"

The figure squeaked.

Then the whimpering turned into full-on sobs. The young butler threw himself forward, the brush clattering on the ground, and launched himself at the foot of the bed, blabbering some nonsense he could recognize as Chinese; thank God for his several years studying in Beijing. He had become a proper sinophile over his five years abroad.

Though that didn't quite explain what he was seeing, nor where he was, nor why the fuck he was in such a palatial room, speaking Mandarin with a sissy servant who was weeping by his bedside.

He had long gone back to his homeland, so he couldn’t have been in China. 

"Woah, buddy…" Zayn raised his hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture, vaguely noticing—and ignoring—how delicate his meaty paws had become, "is something wrong?"

He frowned, noticing for the first time that his voice sounded rough, and he coughed halfway through his sentence.

The tears fell harder in the way Zayn had only imagined girls capable of, along with a muffled wail that rose higher and higher into some kind of falsetto shrieking. 

"It has been a full month—a full month, Young Master!" he bawled. "I didn't think... I couldn't believe—" he tried to wring some sort of fluffy fabric, possibly a handkerchief, to a pulp in his clenched hands and brought it to his eyes. "Lady Wei! She's been waiting. Young Master is alive! Her only son—her only boy—" 

But then he blubbered, and whatever he had wanted to say fell apart into half-sentences and fragmented words, peppered in between gasping breaths and the butler's vain efforts at swallowing and stifling his sobs.

"There, there." Zayn gingerly rubbed his back. "Can you explain exactly what's going on and where am I? How did I get here? Did I faint?"

His headache intensified, and he had to close his eyes for a moment. He pressed two fingers against his left temple to alleviate the discomfort, which didn't do much.

"Oh, oh. W-What do you mean? Young Master has been in a coma for a month. You don't remember?!"

"I just... a coma?"

"A month."

Zayn slowly removed his hand and studied it in shock, wiggling the slim digits of his hand that he had no real control over.

"Am I not home?"

"W-What is Young Master saying?! You're in the Young Master's quarters."

"Sorry. My Mandarin must be rusty—what's your name again?"

The young man stopped weeping and sniffled. "Feng. This lowly servant is called Feng."

"And where am I?"

"Oh no..." Feng's eyes shuddered in horror. "You... you... you... oh Heavens! Lady Shi! Lady Shi!"

And then he burst out the door in a blur of fluttering fabric and screaming.

Zayn didn't wait a single second after he was alone and pushed the covers off his body. He stumbled as weak limbs fought to work under his foreign control, and through the unwilling grip of the tangled sheets. After falling once, he eventually managed to pull the comforter off and stood on shaking feet.

Weak and uncoordinated, he shuffled to a mirror with a dressing table to find himself surrounded by unfamiliar features, almost doll-like and pretty.

Red.

Red hair. No, more than red it was a genuinely crimson color. A living flame on his head.

Pale, thin skin.

Lilac, half-lidded, lazy eyes.

He touched his forehead and slid a finger across to the tip of his sharp, straight nose, finding it soft and silky like butter, not at all the leathery face of his 26-year-old self, where sleep hadn't been in abundance since graduating university.

But worst of all, perhaps, was the—he lowered his eyes downwards, then froze.

A hand snaked its way below the band of his pants to grasp at something.

Soft.

Flaccid.

And also very small.

He didn't know why that had been his first choice of an examination site, or why he had thought touching it might yield some form of enlightenment, but that's how Zayn's mind worked, and maybe also something to do with him being stuck in the body of someone very clearly not the original owner.

What the actual fuck is this?!

The doors flew open, slamming into the wall with a bang, and Zayn jumped, ripping his hand from the soft cock.

Feng darted into the room, leaving a trail of tears, and along with him, a flock of servants humbly making space for Lady Wei and a contingent of people, who were bowing repeatedly in front of the woman.

Zayn's first impression of the regal, crimson-haired lady was one of utmost grace and dignity. Unlike the dainty, gentle nature of the butlers, or the muscular but feminine proportions of the rest of the women, this person carried an aura of hardness. 

The elegant, red daopao that pooled all the way down to her heels gave one the impression that she wasn't walking but floating.

Her hair was styled high upon her head, with golden hairforks piercing her bun.

Her presence altered the room's gravity somehow—don't ask, because Zayn had no fucking idea how he could describe this instinctual understanding.

"You're awake..." Lady Wei murmured, lilac eyes trembling like a disturbed pond, before softening with relief. "My son, you've finally awakened." She raised her head and turned to the crowd. "Give me a moment with my son."

At those words, a myriad of prying eyes and wizened expressions dipped in respect, turning heel to bow in acknowledgment. The throng filed out of the room without another word. The butlers followed shortly after.

Zayn must've stood there like a log—or rather, more appropriately, like an unwitting dumbass.

Lady Wei took in Zayn's thin, weak physique that still struggled to remain standing without leaning on the desk. Her eyes tightened as she waved a hand. No, more like, a come hither gesture with the fingers, and Zayn found himself at the mercy of an unseen force that compelled him back on the bed, light and feather-like.

"W-What..."

"You shouldn't be standing," said Lady Wei. "Especially not in your state. Lay, my dear, lay."

Zayn stared blankly before moving back under her scrutiny, hands grabbing and gathering the sheets, twisting them unconsciously. "Who are you—how did you..."

"So it's true, after all." Lady Wei's eyes shuddered close as if in pain. "Grandmaster Bai said nothing about memory loss being one of the symptoms. Nothing. Oh, dear... what are we to do..."

"......"

Zayn was currently having the biggest out-of-body experience ever. If he wasn't paying attention before, he was now. This is... is this actually real? Lady Wei dabbed at a spot of moisture that had appeared under her eye with a handkerchief and swallowed.

She spoke slowly, with emphasis.

"Do you not recognize me, son? Mother? Are your memories truly..."

She broke off and looked away.

Zayn didn't know what to say but a measly. "I'm sorry... I have no idea what's going on or where I am... or who I am..."

Because his body had to be the biggest fucking giveaway, wasn't it? He wasn't thinking when he ripped his gaze away and trained it back onto his lap, at the hands that were delicate like those of a girl's. And what about that soft, flabby worm in his underpants? He was more concerned about that now than anything else.

Lady Wei's hand stretched out, palming Zayn's jaw to lift his chin. 

She stared for a long time before chuckling weakly and dropping her hand back in her lap. "It's okay, son. Rest. I'll call Grandmaster Bai at once and have her look at your condition. Take your medicine—I'll ask for something a little stronger now that you're awake."

With another flick of the wrist, Zayn was served a spoonful of a minty-sweet green concoction. He allowed the bitter liquid to settle in his mouth and down his throat, his numbness almost impervious to its horrible aftertaste. It left a residue on his tongue, but what else could he do? 

The headache from earlier had gone down somewhat, but only for the most part.

Zayn opened and closed his eyes repeatedly and counted to five, feeling his eyelids flutter uncontrollably, fighting to stay aware in a fog of mind-numbing haziness.

Lady Wei's concerned visage blurred away into total darkness.

…

Wei Shi.

His name was Wei Shi, which, beyond the whole mindfuck of his circumstances, shared a striking phonetic resemblance with a phrase he'd mumbled countless times when things didn't go right, which was right after he copped a feel of his new inseminating unit and almost had the biggest freakout of all time. "Well, shit."

However, in the long list of bullshit that kept happening, the implications of this information was in his top ten, just under the number one spot, where apparently he was now  Wei Shi, heir to some aristocratic Chinese family, and in the land of cultivating dragons and other shit.

Having lived in China for five years, he wasn't new to the wacky stuff, which included astrology, psychics, exorcism, ghosts, and their literature, along with every other cultivation-related trope.

Lady Wei was stroking his cheek as Grandmaster Bai, an elderly woman with white hair and robes, stood to the side of his bed with a beady pair of dark, keen eyes, slowly checking his meridians. 'Meridians...' He thought idly, resisting the urge to shake his head as the physician finished her job, or whatever the hell it was she did.

The old woman sighed, wrinkles sinking deep with the dip of her mouth. "Alas, his meridians have deteriorated drastically over the past weeks. Much worse than I'd imagined... I don't know what correlation it has to his memory loss as his meridians should not affect a cultivator's recollection ability, unless the boy did something incredibly foolish."

Grandmaster Bai pulled back her fingers, which had been glowing with a faint, jade-colored Qi, leaving Zayn—or Wei Shi, or whatever the hell he was now—feeling he just had the creepiest, weirdest geriatric's handjob ever.

But on the bright side, they didn't notice the disconnect, or at least what was exactly the problem with the memory loss, because that wasn't something he wasn't too keen on explaining, lest Lady Wei did that wave of the hand again and launched him out of the window.

"Isn't there anything we can do, Grandmaster Bai?" Lady Wei's features crumpled up into a tortured expression. "Maybe Elder Ling would be able to do something, surely?"

Grandmaster Bai tsked, wrinkle-lines tightening even more around her eyes. "I've already discussed matters with Elder Ling, and there's nothing we can do about the Nine Yang Physique, his meridians are slowly... burning away. Feeding him extreme Yin energy can prolong his survival, but nothing more."

Yin. Extreme yin? Nine Yang Physique...? He went over all the basic Chinese he had picked up over the years, and was struck with a simple understanding. He was fucked, wasn’t he?

They talked a little more as he lay there, like a bedridden cripple who probably had two to five months of lifespan. Maybe that was being generous, based on the vague information he'd heard from the physician's lips. 

It wasn't the first time he'd been in a coma, but never so long, and any attempt at cultivation would've burned the candle even faster.

The conversation turned to him. "How are you feeling now, child?" Grandmaster Bai addressed him with a benign smile that failed to reach her eyes.

"I don't know... this is all..." new to him, he wanted to say, instead, he smiled weakly, noticing how the woman's lips drooped further downward, and she stroked his hand as though he was going to kick the bucket any moment. "Is there truly no way?"

Lady Wei slightly turned around to sniff and wipe at her eyes. Grandmaster Bai sighed, cupping his frail hand in both of hers. "I believe a ten thousand year Glacial Lotus or an Ice Spirit Heart Essence may work, however..." she trailed off. "... in the entirety of the Heavenly Azure Continent, I fear there haven't been any harvested in at least a seven hundred years, the price for such a treasure has shot through the roof... the best I can do is a single-lifed variant for an amount equaling to half this manor, which... would only prolong your suffering."

Lady Wei sobbed harder, clutching his other hand as tears fell from her cheeks. "Don't worry, Shi'er, Mom will find a way for her baby, even if it costs the entire family fortune, mother will find it, she swears. Everything will be all right."

Everything will be alright...

...

As you can imagine, those were empty words. 

Everything was definitely not alright. 

Zayn, now Wei Shi, within barely a week of this turnabout, was in a precarious situation, tossing, turning, and agonizing, mostly due to the continuous heatwave that seemed to attack him from within, despite the many wet cloths pressed against his brow to cool down the fever and ease his pain.

He was dying.

He could actually feel himself slipping away bit by bit, like the last coughs of ember glowing red upon dying coal. He stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, gawking in disbelief and anger at his circumstances—he found himself in this world for no other reason than to suffer and die very slowly.

Lady Wei certainly didn't want him dead, a feeling that was definitely mutual, but quite painful as well, as prolonging his life meant prolonging suffering before the inevitable.

He hardly had enough strength to take a piss these days, and as much as cultivators could ride on swords to cross vast distances, there was no catheter, no urine bag, and most certainly no modesty whatsoever when it came to his nether regions and the nursing men, whom he had been placed under the care.

Yeah, for some reason men were nurses, but more likely, manservants—sissified, delicate men in all of the fineries he couldn't even comprehend. 

And it was exactly them that were coming at his dick with their weird ass hands every time he felt like the pressure on his bladder might finally let loose and spray all over the bedding.

Feng oversaw everything while crying quite obnoxiously. 

No one had any luck in locating the rare herb that was a suitable solution for his health problems. No one even had any hope to, and Wei Shi could only imagine that any attempt was actually a half hearted one, but the pretensions were the very thing keeping Lady Wei hopeful.

'I don't want to die...'

Not like this, at least.

Away from his home, away from civilization, away from comfort food and the wonders of the 21st century. What did he get?

Nothing.

Fuck the multiverse.

Wei Shi gnashed his teeth. Not only did they rob him of an adequate manhood and insert a soft, unmanly piece of meat that could've easily fit inside an unsatisfied vagina, but they had also screwed him over with a cultivation physique that drained away at his very essence at a consistent speed.

'I really don't want to die...'

He literally couldn't comprehend the purpose, the meaning, behind it all. Perhaps there was a masterplan, a larger force at work, or a will that knew better.

He feared falling asleep. Lady Wei started coming to his chamber more frequently.

"Eat, dear."

"The garden looks nice."

"I've heard that Matriarch Hua from the Nine Heavens Palace has broken through the Stargazing Realm."

"I've heard that someone is making quite a ruckus in the city, a young cultivator clashed with the Young Lady of the Zhou Family, crippling her bodyguard in the process. Elder Zhou has taken personal insult and issued a bounty on the young cultivator’s head."

Wei Shi swallowed the medicinal sludge, his throat burning despite the cooling herbs. His mind, still sluggishly translating the high-Pinyin terminology through his modern brain, blinked. 'This sounds familiar, somehow...'

"Shi'er, smile. Your face is so beautiful when you smile, but frowning will scare your poor mother's heart. At least eat for me, okay?"

He nodded, doing his best.

One day she just broke down, sobbing on her own, cradling his hands to her tear-stricken cheeks. She didn't say anything, and he could only assume that his rapidly deteriorating condition had somehow fallen further to the point of hopelessness. 

It was when Lady Wei started spending the night, sitting by his bedside, that he'd truly noticed just how desperate the situation was.

"Don't cry, Mother," he rasped out, making her eyes snap wide open. It was the first time he called her Mother ever since his 'memory loss', and while he didn't feel the relation, the warmth and care that bled through her grief was enough to stir some unfamiliar emotions. She had cared deeply for him. And if he really was about to die, then what harm was there in reciprocating the love until the very end? "You shouldn't sleep here."

"Shi'er... I am all right—don't worry about your poor mother," said Lady Wei, dabbing away the streaks from her eyes. "I'll... I'll be here, right alongside you... okay?"

Wei Shi smiled and touched his palm against her cold, damp cheek. "Okay..."

…

Through sheer, dogged will, Wei Shi made it to his second week in this world.

He didn’t even know why he was trying. 

Lady Wei and Grandmaster Bai wore somber, mourning expressions, and the whole manor stirred in collective grief at the approaching death of the young master. He was visited by a lot of female relatives, cousins and aunts, who all offered him their condolences and tearful 'get wells' and 'please don't leave us'.

Grandmaster Bai sat vigil beside Lady Wei, watching the life drain from his eyes.

Wei Shi was tired. Tired of the mind-numbing heat that was practically boiling his blood and his organs. He felt like he was being cooked alive, a little at a time. His eyes were so dry he couldn't even blink properly, and his mouth was filled with cotton, parched and chapped.

How much longer?

How much longer until he just... gave out?

"Mother..."

Lady Wei woke up from her restless doze and focused on him. "Yes, dear?"

He had to speak slowly, articulating each word so she'd hear it. "I don't want to die here... in bed, like this... please."

"Shi'er..."

"I want to see... the courtyard... I want to see the willows... before I go."

Lady Wei broke down into sobs, but then she got up and nodded, calling for Feng to have the doors open and the servants prepare for his last request.

A luxurious palanquin was brought in, and Lady Wei and Feng carried him gently into the padded seat, leaving the door open for him to get a view of the outside world.

To Wei Shi, who had never seen anything beyond the four walls of his room, it was a sight to behold.

The morning mist was still rising from the dew-drenched grass, and the sky was a beautiful gradient of soft pastel pinks and pale blues.

Below the immensity of heaven, as his mother would say, were the roofs of the surrounding buildings, where more servants worked at keeping the buildings in pristine condition. The roofs were made of blue and red tiles, with upturned corners like the points of a pagoda.

The courtyard was huge, almost like a small park, with lush, greenery and an intricate network of small, stone pathways.

But the most breathtaking sight were the weeping willows, their long, slender branches swaying in the morning breeze.

Wei Shi had never seen anything so beautiful.

He felt his heart ache with longing, for the beauty of an incredible world he'd never see to the fullest.

And then he closed his eyes.

Not for the last time. 

Not yet. 

Perhaps, there really was some masterplan to his being here afterall, a higher will at play, because right at the very last moment—like a thunder bolt from the clear blue, right on schedule—when Wei Shi felt like death was about to finally embrace him, someone had arrived.

"I can save him."

A girl in shabby robes, with a cloak that hid her identity. Her hood was draped over her shoulders as she kept her head down, bearing a fair countenance framed by raven locks, her determined, confident eyes gleaming underneath the hood.

It was then that the masterplan started to unveil.

And Wei Shi knew he'd survive.