The needle had not yet been removed when the old gentleman, stroking his beard, shook his head and sighed, “There is no cure for the brainless. I am merely following an ancient prescription to temporarily control the illness. Whether it can be fully cured depends entirely on Young Master's own luck.”

The fellow in the blue robe and cap hid by the bedside, sobbing softly, “Young Master, Young Master, Doctor Fang is a famous physician invited by the Lord. Don’t be afraid, just a few months of acupuncture and you’ll be fine. The Lord wrote home with instructions: as long as Young Master can recover, no matter what method is used... In any case, you must never avoid treatment or conceal your illness... Young Master is the Lord’s only son, Young Master, just bear with it... bear with it...”

Charles Foster’s face was pale, trembling with fear.

……

Noon.

The view outside the window was pleasant, but Charles Foster was in no mood to appreciate it!

This was already the twenty-seventh day since Charles Foster arrived in this world. Of course, he no longer knew how many times he’d been pricked by needles. Each acupuncture session, for Charles Foster, was like a trip to the gates of hell.

An ancient “famous doctor” would stick silver needles into the back of your head and even twist them a little. Just thinking about it still made Charles Foster shudder all over.

Twenty-seven days were enough for Charles Foster to understand everything.

The original owner of this body was the only son of Fang Jinglong, the hereditary Lord of Nanhe in the Ming Dynasty.

The Fang family’s hereditary title was earned during the Jingnan Campaign. Their ancestors followed Prince Yan, Zhu Di, from Beiping all the way to Nanjing. Zhu Di was generous enough to grant them a lifelong iron rice bowl.

And the owner of this body...

Well, no wonder just saying something like “a real man should achieve great things” got him labeled as brainless—because this guy was a complete scoundrel, the worst of the spoiled brats in the capital, the most notorious of wastrels, truly infamous!

A while ago, this guy fell ill, so a famous doctor was called in. It seemed to be a mental problem, and they never gave up on treatment. After Charles Foster transmigrated, people still thought the illness hadn’t been cured, because his personality was so different from the former wastrel’s. So... the treatment continued...

Too stupid.

Charles Foster reflected on himself—he was still too young. Just arrived, and he actually talked about making achievements and serving the country and the people. Was he asking for trouble?

A notorious wastrel suddenly acting so out of character—what else could people think but that he was crazy?

Fine, if he wanted to stop the treatment, he had to be even more Charles Foster than the old Charles Foster.

At this moment, the bedroom door opened, and in came a pretty little maid, followed by Charles Foster’s long-time attendant—the fellow in the blue robe and cap, named William Carter.

A new day... had begun again.

Charles Foster took a deep breath. In these twenty-some days, he had figured out the routine and roughly understood the family background. Naturally, he also had a thorough grasp of the original Charles Foster.

The little maid came to the bedside and bowed, “Young Master, it’s time to get up.”

Charles Foster opened his eyes, showing an impatient look. He cheered himself on in his heart: “Wastrel, wastrel, I’m just a wastrel, can’t let anything slip.”

Charles Foster snapped fiercely, “What time is it? Yelling like a ghost so early in the morning?”

The little maid was so frightened her pretty face turned awkward. “Th-the sun is already high in the sky.”

“Only high in the sky...” Charles Foster bared his teeth. “Is Young Master the kind of person who gets up when the sun is high? I’m sleeping another hour!”

The blue-robed William Carter hurried forward, nodding and bowing, “Young Master, it is early, but I was afraid you’d be hungry...”

“All right, all right...” Charles Foster had no choice but to get up, changing clothes with the little maid’s help.

Of course, Charles Foster had to put on a lecherous look, staring at the little maid’s chest and grinning, “Xiao Xiangxiang, you’ve grown up. Come, let Young Master check.”

Charles Foster’s hand smoothly pinched Xiao Xiangxiang’s shapely bottom. She was so startled she trembled all over, her eyes reddening, tears about to fall.

Charles Foster sighed inwardly, feeling a bit guilty, but seeing William Carter nearby, he quickly folded his hands and said, “Hahahaha... The little girl is still shy. Don’t be afraid, Young Master cares for you.”

Xiao Xiangxiang hurried to dodge, and Charles Foster took the opportunity to stop harassing her. William Carter grinned obsequiously, “Young Master is wise and mighty, always true to himself. I admire you, I’m in awe.”

“Get lost!” Charles Foster lifted his leg and kicked William Carter over, shouting angrily, “Other than being handsome and dashing, Young Master has no other talents. How dare you call me wise and mighty? Can wisdom and might be eaten? You dog!”

William Carter rolled on the ground, bursting into tears.

Charles Foster was startled. What, did he kick too hard just now? My fault, my fault, really sorry, but... sigh, I’m in a tough spot too. If I act all refined, how can I get them to stop the treatment?

Who would have thought, in the next moment, William Carter rolled over, looked up, and said excitedly, “Young Master’s illness is finally getting better. I... I’m truly happy for you. I’m crying tears of joy, tears of joy!”

Huh?

Charles Foster was dumbfounded. This works too?

Chapter 0002: I Am a Wastrel