“Uncle Brooks... that's what we call people of my father's generation over there, please don't mind. I don't want to go back to my hometown anymore, I'm afraid of running into another shipwreck, and there's no one left at home. I used the inheritance from my parents to buy these goods, even sold the house and land—if I go back, I'll just end up begging. I'd rather stay here and fish; I don't really know how to do anything else, but I've been fishing since I was a kid. Being literate isn't rare where I'm from, I can even teach them to read and do arithmetic, I won't charge, just feed me and that's enough, how about it?” Nothing else—Brian Carter has always lied to good people, he just can't help it; sometimes telling the truth is even more offensive than cursing.

“You've really thought it through? If I take you as my godson, once the ceremony is done, you'll be part of the Tanka people!” Ethan Brooks hadn't expected that after talking it over with Brian Carter, Brian Carter would still be willing to stay. For someone who's been educated, becoming Tanka is even worse than begging—in terms of social status, a beggar might have a chance to rise up one day, but a Tanka never will.

“Godson is just like an adopted son, right?” Brian Carter hadn't expected Ethan Brooks to want to become sworn kin. In later generations, calling someone godfather or godmother can sound a bit insulting, but before Liberation, becoming sworn kin was a serious matter. Aside from inheritance rights, a godson and a biological son were pretty much the same.

“You're really dumb! From now on, just call him Grandpa Brooks!” That Paul Grant had somehow come over too, squatting behind Ethan Brooks, and suddenly chimed in.

Having arrived in the Song Dynasty for less than a day, Brian Carter had already gained a godfather, a godbrother, and a big family. All he had to do was kneel at the bow of the boat, kowtow three times to the incense burner, then kowtow three more times to Ethan Brooks—the ceremony was extremely simple. Brian Carter felt it was worth it; now he had family, and his chances of survival had gone up a lot. As for this godfather—well, a godfather is a godfather, let him count himself lucky to have a godson like me; just wait to enjoy the good life. No matter what dynasty it is, or how much historical knowledge he still remembers, Brian Carter felt he'd always live better than the average person of the time. The reason? Knowledge is productivity.

That being said, what kind of knowledge can actually be turned into productivity under these conditions? Brian Carter lay on Ethan Brooks's boat deck, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Forget about financial knowledge—there aren't even banks or stock markets here, even if the chairman of the Federal Reserve came, it would be useless.

Metallurgical heat treatment and materials science—that's his major. Unfortunately, most of it has been forgotten, and aside from internships, he never really worked in the field. He might remember some simple experimental results, but right now, the conditions just aren't there. Not only are there no chemical reagents, but there's not even any metalworking equipment. Back in school, the teachers only taught how to work in that era, not how to start from scratch and smelt steel and iron yourself. Even if they had, where would you find iron ore, coal, or manpower? You can't do it all by yourself, can you?

Satellite communications—that's the job he's most familiar with, and also the most useless. Audio equipment and computer knowledge—also his strengths, but still useless. Without electricity, they're just decorations, not even as useful as a stick. Filming TV shows or movies, writing songs and singing—same thing, without electricity, it's all pointless.

As for beauty and hairdressing, even though there are no scissors, hairdryers, or cold perm solution, he could actually do it. Too bad people in this era aren't into that. If you gave a girl a big permed wave and smoky makeup, you'd both end up paraded through the streets, and then drowned together.

Brian Carter has time-traveled twice already—this is the third time—but he never felt like a useless person until now. Now he finally understands: once you leave modern society and lose the support of basic products, you really are a big useless lump.

Making guns, cannons, glass, soap, paper—he can't do any of it. He knows some formulas and manufacturing techniques, but without the chemical and smelting industries, knowing is useless; there's nowhere to get raw materials.

Writing poetry, lyrics, or opera—way too hard for a science student. He never really understood classical Chinese since middle school. Besides, as someone with an unclear background, who can't write traditional characters, can't use a brush, and can't even speak or address people properly in this era, how could he write poetry or lyrics for anyone? Who the hell knows what language people in the Southern Song actually spoke? Mandarin? Jiangsu-Zhejiang dialect? Everyone talks about "official speech," but who's ever heard a recording? How do you even speak it?

Unable to find any suitable skills among his proper jobs, Brian Carter turned over on the hard boat deck and started thinking if any of his hobbies could be useful. Didn't Gao Qiu become a prime minister because he played cuju? Maybe he could introduce ping pong, badminton, or basketball and get an official post too? Even marbles would do—he used to be able to hit targets four or five meters away with perfect accuracy, and was the king of his street!

If that caught on, he could become a private coach for some high official's family in the Song Dynasty, and then all the women in their household would be his. He might not look like much, but he's got a good body—height covers a multitude of flaws. Try finding someone over 185 centimeters tall in the Song Dynasty—good luck.

“Sigh... this is going to be tough!” Brian Carter smacked his lips and turned over again. This boat deck is hard as hell—where are you, Simmons mattress!