Believing in those eyes, sharp as bone-scraping steel blades behind the lenses, and that strangely wicked smile at the corner of her mouth, made the still-virginal Benjamin Lincoln realize the obsession and dedication of the new era’s women. Uh, am I really so lacking in a sense of crisis for survival? How can I still be in the mood to make sarcastic remarks at a time like this?

Could this be some kind of post-transmigration cognitive disorder? Hmm, it must be. Otherwise, how could someone as strong-willed as me be so absent-minded all the time?

Chapter Seven: The Essential Tool for the Refined Beast in Disguise—Makeup

With my hands behind my back, I walked out onto the wooden corridor, nodding at Benjamin Lincoln, who had already stood up and saluted me. “Benjamin, where’s your father? I haven’t seen him these past couple of days.”

“Replying to young master, after your illness improved, there wasn’t much to do at home, so my father went back to the shop to help out again. He just told me to serve you well, young master.” Benjamin Lincoln answered with a simple, honest smile.

“Is that so? Which shop is it?” Hearing this, I couldn’t help but grow curious, so I sat down right there on the wooden corridor and motioned for Benjamin Lincoln to sit as well. After sitting down, Benjamin Lincoln replied, “It’s my uncle’s shop. It mainly sells small items. My father said that since we’ve been eating and drinking for free at my uncle’s place with madam and young master, it really doesn’t feel right, so he went to my uncle and found this job watching over the shop. At the very least, he can support himself and cause less trouble for madam.”

Hearing Benjamin Lincoln’s words, I could only smile and nod, unable to say anything else. Someone as loyal and devoted to his master’s family as Steward Lincoln is almost impossible to find in our era. If a company is about to go under, not to mention the regular employees, even the executives would be jumping ship faster than Spider-Man changing costumes.

Thinking about this, I casually asked, “So, what does the shop sell?” Hmm, this is one good thing about ancient times—good wood is everywhere. Although the ancient buildings of this era are said to be made of stone and wood, the main construction material is still wood. After all, wood is lighter and easier to work with than stone.

Unlike those big stones, before gunpowder was widely used, you could only chisel away at them bit by bit—time-consuming, laborious, and exhausting. Wood is much more cost-effective. Just like the thick wooden plank under my butt, which is at least an inch thick, and the entire floor of the house is made of this solid, heavy wood. In modern times, this would cost hundreds or even thousands per square meter, but now, as long as the family is a bit well-off, such wooden structures are quite common.

“My uncle’s shop sells small items, like paperweights, jewelry boxes, or little wooden cases and such.” Benjamin Lincoln answered honestly after thinking for a moment.

Looks like my uncle’s shop isn’t very high-end, selling all these little trinkets. It reminds me of those small gift shops in modern times. Unless you have connections to do wholesale with various organizations, you can’t really make much money—just enough for some pocket change.

Any thoughts I had about making a move on my uncle’s shop were instantly extinguished. I sighed deeply, my gaze drifting to the scenery outside the door. When my eyes landed on a peach blossom branch stretching diagonally into the courtyard wall, a famous ancient phrase flashed through my mind: “The beauty and the peach blossoms reflect each other’s red.”

My thoughts continued to wander—to the universally beloved “peach blossom luck,” to the classic Chinese opera, “The Peach Blossom Fan,” which has been performed in many theatrical forms. Uh… wait, “The Peach Blossom Fan”?

Peach blossoms, and a fan. Suddenly, my mind, so different from that of ancient people, lit up. Yes, my brain—no, my thoughts—instantly traveled across thousands of years, and a huge screen appeared in my head. On it, one of the so-called Four Talents, Zhu Zhishan, was waving a folding fan painted with a peach blossom, his lecherous face grinning lasciviously at a panicked, respectable young lady. Yes, it was this deeply memorable scene that gave me a powerful inspiration, as if a 3,000-watt super spotlight had been switched on in a football stadium.

“Damn!” I suddenly stood up, gazing affectionately at that peach blossom branch. Yes, it had helped me find a way to make money. Just imagine those beasts in disguise, holding a folding fan and pretending to be refined, each with a fan in hand—then I’d be bringing the romantic customs of the Ming Dynasty forward by nearly a thousand years.

“Refined beast in disguise”—that’s exactly how you’d describe those guys who hold a folding fan covered in poems or paintings, then with a sweep of their wide sleeves, snap the fan open with a flourish. If the audience is all cultured people, this move would surely make them admire his elegance.

Of course, if the only audience is a respectable young lady, and this guy’s expression is a bit more lecherous, then “beast” would be a fitting description.

Just as I was feeling pleased, grinning widely and imagining myself facing a sexy, enchanting woman in the same way, the burly, sturdy bodyguard beside me nervously asked in a low voice, “Young master, you are…”