Chapter One: The Beginning

Ten miles of Qinhuai in Jinling, Lanyue Pavilion.

Henry Thompson was woken up early in the morning by the violent pounding on the door outside, and then the aftereffects of his hangover hit him one after another—his stomach churned, his limbs felt weak and powerless, and his head felt as if a thousand gongs and drums were pounding inside, making Henry Thompson’s head ache as if it would explode.

For a moment, he even forgot who he was, instinctively groping around the bedside and on himself for his phone. Only after a few seconds did Henry Thompson remember that there were no such things as phones in this world, and that he was no longer in that modern world.

His current identity was the second young master Henry Thompson Li Qianzhi of the Marquis of Sincerity’s household in Great Jin. Today marked his tenth day in this world.

“Qianzhi!”

The pounding on the door outside grew even more intense, and a booming voice called in, “How long are you going to sleep? If you don’t get back soon, be careful your father finds out and punishes you by making you kneel in the ancestral hall.”

Henry Thompson’s mind snapped to attention, and he quickly scrambled out of bed. He didn’t even bother to wash up, hastily straightened his clothes, and rushed to open the door.

Waiting outside were his predecessor’s two close friends: the second son of the Marquis of Huaiyuan, William BoltonThomas Bolton, and the eldest son of the wealthy Peng family of Yangzhou, Richard Palmer. The former was eight feet tall, with a fierce and masculine appearance, his entire body packed with solid muscles, extremely robust.

The latter was a chubby fellow not even 1.6 meters tall, his whole body covered in fat, waddling along like a rolling ball of flesh.

The two were clearly startled by the paper-white face of Henry Thompson. Thomas Bolton scrutinized him, then sneered, “If I didn’t know you were alone in your room last night, I’d have thought you’d already been drained dry.”

“Get lost!”

Henry Thompson cursed angrily, then weakly pressed his fingers to his temples. “Don’t mess with me. I accidentally drank too much last night and have a splitting headache.”

“Then why did you drink so much?”

Richard Palmer asked with a Buddha-like smile, “We finally managed to sneak out—wasn’t it to sleep with women? But you, all you did was drink. Can’t you drink anywhere? I saw two girls last night who were dying to throw themselves at you.”

It hadn’t been like this before, but lately Henry Thompson seemed to have fully grown into his looks—his features had become even more handsome, with an added scholarly air from who knows where, and his speech had become refined, witty, and charming.

Henry Thompson just gave an awkward smile and didn’t argue.

He was a pure and upright man of the new era—how could he handle such a brothel scene? He had no interest in the women here.

If he hadn’t been worried about acting too out of place after transmigrating, he wouldn’t have come along at all.

Originally, Henry Thompson had planned to pretend to be drunk, but after three bowls of wine, he started thinking about everything from his previous life, and couldn’t help but drink to drown his sorrows.

It didn’t help that the alcohol in this world was so weak—if you weren’t careful, you’d end up drunk.

Thomas Bolton looked at him with disdain. “In the end, you’re just too weak!”

He patted his own chest, his face glowing with pride. “Look at me—after nine rounds in one night, I’m still full of energy.”

Richard Palmer also chuckled, “I’m a little behind, only managed seven times last night.”

He paused, smacking his lips with relish. “Don’t be fooled by how frail our Wei courtesan looks—like a willow swaying in the wind—but under those clothes, she’s surprisingly well-proportioned, curvy in all the right places, and the feel is just perfect. She really boosted my performance!”

Henry Thompson looked at them with disgust. “Enough, stop bragging in front of me. If you don’t want a beating, let’s get going.”

By this point, they had already descended to the second floor of Lanyue Pavilion.

Just then, all three paused in surprise, seeing a large group of yamen officers suddenly swarm in, sealing off the entire Lanyue Pavilion inside and out.

A few disgruntled patrons were struck on the head by the officers’ scabbards, blood streaming down their faces, causing the girls inside to scream in terror.

“What’s going on?”

“Did someone here commit a crime? Or is there a notorious bandit hiding out?”

Henry Thompson was just as baffled. As far as he knew, Lanyue Pavilion had powerful backing—normally, no officials would dare cause trouble here. Had these yamen officers from Yingtian Prefecture eaten a leopard’s gall today?

But then he saw, behind the officers, a donkey cart carrying a coffin.

At the front of the cart was a middle-aged knight in a purple constable’s uniform, draped in a black cloak, with a scar on his face. He glanced up and down at Lanyue Pavilion, and when his gaze landed on Henry Thompson, his eyes narrowed slightly. Only then did he dismount and stride into the main hall of Lanyue Pavilion.