Wang Li's comparison of himself to a "tiny screw" in his past life is a good reveal of his previous life's loneliness. It explains why he's so attached to this new family and world. The author doesn't dwell on this tragic backstory too much; instead, he uses it as a foundation for Wang Li's current positive attitude. That's a smart writing choice. We empathize with him without getting bogged down in trauma. It also makes his dream to reach the top more personal – he wants to prove that even a nobody can rise if given a second chance.
Overall, the opening chapters do exactly what a good historical romance should: establish a compelling mystery, introduce layered characters, and paint a vivid world. I'm not sure if this is going to focus on domestic life or political schemes, but either way, I'm hooked on finding out why Zhou Jingyun married Zhuang Li and what secrets she carries.
The humor in this story is incredibly well-placed. Xu Zhou’s internal monologue is full of groans, curses, and sarcastic remarks that feel genuine. The line about “this old scoundrel” repeated several times but always with different inflections makes it funny every time. It’s the kind of self-aware, slightly exasperated humor that makes reading a breeze.
1 The spirit garden’s fast-growing herbs is a cool mechanic, but I’m a bit conflicted about its implications. On one hand, it gives Chen Huian a way to make money quickly. On the other, it could make the story too easy. The author seems aware of this—since he only has two herbs to plant and he needs to buy more, there’s a natural bottleneck. The fact that he needs to enter the city and interact with merchants keeps the world from becoming too focused on farming. I’m excited to see what other herbs he finds and how the garden expands.