Could you please provide the text you would like me to translate?

“Grandpa Village Chief, Brother Feng, you two keep resting. I’m going to take a walk somewhere else.”

“Alright, go ahead. Don’t come home too late.”

“I know, Grandpa Village Chief, don’t worry.”

Watching Wang Bo’s departing figure, Wang Feng turned to the village chief and said, “That boy never had much ambition before. This illness of his seems to have sparked some drive in him. It’s a good thing, I suppose.”

“Yes,” the village chief replied, his tone full of meaning. “He’s been a worry since he was little. Now that he wants to toughen up, Xiao Feng, you should train him well.”

“I understand, Village Chief. I’ll do my best.”

Wang Bo, already out of earshot, didn’t hear the conversation between Wang Feng and the village chief. With nothing better to do, he wandered around the village again, hoping to find something of interest, but nothing caught his eye. “All I see is fresh air and utter boredom. This is far from the idyllic rural life I imagined,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head, and finally headed back home in resignation.

As night fell, Wang Bo lay quietly on his bed. Through the fragments of memories left by young Wang Bo, he tried to recall anything about Wang Feng and the village chief. Suddenly, a thought struck him.

Wang Feng was the biological brother of Zhao Yun. It was said that Wang Feng’s ancestors had once produced a general, but the family had since declined. In his youth, Wang Feng was spirited and skilled in martial arts—three or four grown men couldn’t best him. He had served in the army, earned honors, and held a minor official post. He had hoped to restore his family’s glory, but after offending the son of a military bigwig, he was forced to retire and return to farming, living a reclusive life. When he first returned, Wang Feng was quite dejected. Thanks to the village chief’s guidance, he regained his confidence. He became the village hunter; his family was the only one in the village that could eat meat regularly.

The village chief, in the eyes of Wang Bo and the other children, was synonymous with strictness—stern but also very kind. Notably, unlike most farmers, the village chief was literate and considered highly knowledgeable. He had traveled outside the village for study in his younger years and was the most cultured person here.

“Is this Zhao Yun really the Zhao Yun from the Three Kingdoms?” Wang Bo wondered. “I remember a game mentioning Zhao Yun had an older brother, but I’ve forgotten his name. Besides, who takes a game’s lore seriously? This is headache-inducing.” He rubbed his temples to soothe his weary mind. “Still, Wang Feng is indeed capable, and he’s seen the world and served in the army. He must know more than most. Tomorrow I should try to sound him out. Any information is better than groping in the dark. Even if this is truly an age of chaos, I can at least prepare. I never had grand ambitions, but I’d like to live steadily, maybe achieve a comfortable life. Otherwise, after all the effort to cross over, getting struck by lightning only to die in confusion would be disgraceful for any transmigrator.” Wang Bo’s expression darkened at the thought. “Enough—let’s sleep. This cursed ancient era doesn’t even have electricity, let alone computers or the internet. All I do is eat and sleep, wake and eat, bask in the sun—I’m turning into a pig. I need something to do. Wang Feng is my springboard. I’ll follow Brother Feng’s training and become as strong as possible; it’ll be useful later.”

Resolute in his decision, Wang Bo drifted off to sleep. Amidst the buzzing of mosquitoes, he managed to endure another night and awoke early the next morning.

“Bo’er, why are you up so early? Are you rested? If not, go back and lie down a bit,” Mrs. Li asked, worried at seeing Wang Bo up so soon.

“Don’t worry, Mother, I’m fine. Yesterday at the village entrance, I met Brother Wang Feng. Seeing how weak I was, he said I should come see him today—he’ll help me train and build up my strength. So I got up early to head over.” Seeing the warmth in Mrs. Li’s eyes, Wang Bo felt deeply comforted.

“But…” Mrs. Li hesitated, looking at her son’s frail body. She gently stroked his delicate face, choked up and at a loss for words.

“Mother, please don’t try to stop me. My mind is made up. I’m the man of the house—I can’t let you all keep worrying about me. If I stay weak, sooner or later there’ll be trouble. I need to train, I really do. Don’t worry, Mother, I’ll take care not to overdo it,” Wang Bo said, his resolve unwavering.

“Alright then, but take care of yourself—don’t be reckless,” Mrs. Li relented, though her sad expression betrayed her anxiety.

“Mother, I’m heading out now. Brother Feng said to come early.” With that, Wang Bo turned and ran out.

“Hey, you child! At least eat something before you go! What’s the rush? You can’t do without breakfast,” Mrs. Li called, chasing after him.

Wang Bo didn’t stop, turning his head to reassure her, “It’s fine, Mother. I’m not hungry—I can manage.” With that, he quickened his pace.

Wang Bo’s home wasn’t far from Wang Feng’s, so after a short run, he arrived. At the gate, Wang Bo bent over, panting and looking thoroughly bedraggled. Catching his breath, he composed himself, took a deep breath, and pushed open the gate to find Wang Feng standing upright in the courtyard with his hands behind his back.

“If only Brother Feng were dressed in long robes, he’d truly look like a martial arts master—perfect,” Wang Bo mused with amusement.

“Brother Feng!” Wang Bo greeted, approaching Wang Feng.

“You’re here,” Wang Feng said, his voice deep and commanding.

“Mm.”

“Are you ready? Once you start, you can’t give up.”

“Yes, I’m ready. Go ahead, Brother Feng. My main goal is my own well-being—I can endure it,” Wang Bo nodded firmly. He was unwavering when it came to such matters.

Wang Feng nodded approvingly, “Good, you finally understand. Don’t worry, I’ll train you well.”

“Let’s start now. You know, physical fitness generally includes strength, speed, and endurance. Strength is the foundation. To build it, you need resistance training, so your first lesson today is carrying weights. Wait here—I’ll fetch something from inside.” With that, Wang Feng went into the house, and soon the sound of rummaging echoed out.

“Is he looking for things or tearing the place apart?” Wang Bo thought maliciously.

A moment later, Wang Feng emerged carrying several sandbags.

“Here, put these on. These were used by Xiao Yun when he was five. I looked everywhere, and these seem most suitable for you,” Wang Feng explained kindly, oblivious to Wang Bo’s twisted expression.

“Five years old? I’m already in my teens—am I weaker than five-year-old Zhao Yun? How humiliating.”

“What’s wrong, Xiao Bo? Put them on,” Wang Feng prompted as Wang Bo stared off into space.

“Mm.” Wang Bo took the sandbags and, with Wang Feng’s help, strapped them to his limbs. Once done, he moved his arms and legs and felt a heavy weight, especially in his hands, which he could barely lift. “Were these really used by Zhao Yun at five?” was his first thought.

Seeing Wang Bo with his sandbags, Wang Feng continued, “From now on, unless I say otherwise, you can’t take these off—whether you’re eating, walking, whatever.”

“Got it, Brother Feng,” Wang Bo replied bitterly.

“Brother Feng, you must have had quite the time in the army, seen many places. Can you tell me about them? I’ve never left the village and am really curious about the world outside,” Wang Bo asked eagerly.

“It’s true—the world outside is vast. I’ve only seen a small part,” Wang Feng replied, his face full of reminiscence.

“Um, Brother Feng, can I sit while you tell me? I’m a bit tired,” Wang Bo interrupted, blushing, as bashful as a bride.

Wang Feng shook his head in resignation, “You… How should I put it? Fine, sit and rest for a bit.”

Ignoring Wang Feng’s expression, Wang Bo sat down heavily. Looking up, he asked, “Brother Feng, do you know what era it is, what year?”

Wang Feng looked at Wang Bo in surprise, puzzled by the question, but answered honestly, “It should be the first year of Guanghe.”

“What year is that in the Western calendar?” Wang Bo pressed.

“Xiao Bo, what are you talking about? What Western calendar?” Wang Feng was mystified, not understanding Wang Bo’s terms.

“Nothing.” Wang Bo was taken aback, feeling self-reproach. “Look at my big mouth—blurting out modern terms in a rush, when there’s no such thing as the Western calendar here.”

“Are you sure it’s nothing?” Wang Feng asked, concern etched on his face. “You look pale—are you alright?”

“Really, it’s nothing, just me rambling. By the way, Brother Feng, where’s Brother Yun? I haven’t seen him around.”

“Xiao Yun went to the mountains to learn martial arts—you know that. Xiao Bo, you’re saying strange things today,” Wang Feng remarked, puzzled.

“It’s just… I fainted and hit my head, so I’m a bit muddled. By the way, Brother Feng, who’s teaching Brother Yun? Surely you’re capable enough to instruct him yourself?” Wang Bo replied nervously.

“This is getting worse—I’m digging myself deeper,” Wang Bo lamented inwardly.

“I don’t have that kind of skill. What I know is just old family routines and some tricks picked up in the army—not true martial arts. At best, it keeps you fit and gives soldiers some survival tactics. But Xiao Yun’s master is a true martial arts grandmaster, known as the Hermit God of the Spear from Penglai, named Tong…”

“Tong Yuan,” Wang Bo interjected eagerly.

“Yes, Tong Yuan. He saw Xiao Yun’s extraordinary bones and high aptitude, plus his diligence, and took him as his last disciple. He’s teaching him in Changshan, ten li outside the village,” Wang Feng said, satisfaction evident in his face.

“Alright, enough about Xiao Yun. You’ve been sitting for ages. Are you here for training or to hear stories? If you want to know about Xiao Yun, ask him yourself—he’s closer to you than to me.”

After Wang Feng’s words, Wang Bo’s expression shifted from confusion to excitement, then disappointment, and finally determination. “So I really have transmigrated into the Three Kingdoms era—the one I love most, admire most, and yet the most chaotic.” Shaking his head, Wang Bo stood up.

“Of course I’m here for training, Brother Feng. I’m ready—let’s begin.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Wang Feng nodded.

By afternoon, as the sun dipped westward and the fiery clouds painted the sky, Wang Bo dragged his exhausted body home, barely able to keep his spirits up.

Seeing him return, Duo’er was delighted. She ran over, grabbing Wang Bo’s arm and shaking it energetically.

“Brother, brother, you’re finally back! You weren’t home today—Duo’er was so lonely. No one to play with, I was so bored. Now you’re back, you have to play with me!” Duo’er pleaded, her big watery eyes blinking, her pouting lips an earnest attempt to show how miserable she’d been.

Looking at adorable Duo’er, Wang Bo felt helpless. The day’s training had drained him, and he wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to get through it.

Seeing Wang Bo’s fatigue, Mrs. Li’s heart ached. She walked over and gently said to Duo’er, “Don’t bother your brother. Look how tired he is. Let him rest.”

“But…” Duo’er protested, not wanting to give in, but unable to defy her mother.

“Mother, I’m fine,” Wang Bo insisted, forcing a painful smile that barely looked like one.

Duo’er glanced between Wang Bo and Mrs. Li, then pouted, “Alright, brother, go rest. Duo’er won’t bother you anymore.” She glanced back at him, her expression forlorn.

“Bo’er, are you alright? Maybe you should stop. Seeing you like this, my heart aches,” Mrs. Li said, unable to bear her son’s suffering.

Hearing his mother’s words, Wang Bo summoned a bit of strength and replied with determination, “Mother, I’m fine. I don’t want to be a burden to you and Father—I want to be the man of the house. I will persevere. Not just for myself, but to be a better son for you and Father.”

Looking at her weary son, Mrs. Li felt both proud and helpless. She gently stroked Wang Bo’s pale, thin face. “He’s finally grown up, has his own thoughts—he’s not someone I can persuade with a few words anymore. That fainting spell must have affected him deeply.”

As they spoke, Wang Bo’s father, Wang Hu, strode in from outside, dusty and tired. He came over and, seeing Wang Bo’s exhaustion, couldn’t help asking, “How are you, Bo’er? Can you handle it?”

Wang Bo glanced at his father, Wang Hu, and nodded firmly. “Father, don’t worry. I’ve grown up—I’ll be a real man and won’t give up halfway.”

“Good, act like a man. I support you,” Wang Hu said, full of pride, patting Wang Bo’s shoulder.

“Father, you—” Mrs. Li interjected.

“What about me? The boy’s right—he’s grown up. When a child has his own ideas, parents should support him. If you keep coddling him forever, he’ll never grow. Since Bo’er has decided, let him work hard.”

Wang Hu, seldom so stern, finally spoke with gravity.

Wang Bo’s Three Kingdoms Makeover—read the latest chapter for free first at Claw Book House.