I put on the tall hat that Abraham Lincoln wore (in the Han dynasty, this was called an eguan), tied on his wide belt, and looked into the shaving mirror as I asked everyone, “Do I look like him? After all, I’ve lived for 30 years. I don’t know how we calculate age now, but is it really appropriate for me to play a 20-year-old young man?”

“You look just like him,” they all said in unison. “Do you think people in ancient times maintained themselves as well as modern people? Do you think you’re in worse shape than Abraham Lincoln, who grew up in hardship? And do you think our bodies were transformed for nothing?”

Suddenly, a malicious thought surged up in me. I said to Brian Cooper, “Look at what those merchants are hiding in their arms. There are 30,000 taels of gold thrown on the cart—do you think what they’re carrying is worth 300,000 taels?” Seeing the gleam in Brian Cooper’s eyes, I tempted him further: “Do you want to see the antique of antiques, the treasure among treasures?”

Brian Cooper’s mouth immediately dropped wide open, and sparkling drool was gathering at the corner of his lips. “Wipe your mouth first, and I’ll tell you. They’re badly injured.” Brian Cooper nodded.

“The mountain road is hard to walk,” Brian Cooper nodded.

“It’s getting dark,” Brian Cooper nodded.

“They don’t have bows and arrows anymore, so they’ll definitely find a place to hide, and it won’t be far. They’ve seen us—these strangely dressed people. If they go around spreading the word, it’ll be bad for us later. So, you must take the infrared binoculars and a flashlight, go and bring them back. Whatever they have on them will be yours. Also, be careful—the bodyguard is tough.” I thought viciously, how dare they hand Abraham Lincoln over to the bandits, and then abandon us to the bandits and run off themselves. Well, you’ll pay for that. When the hot-tempered Brian Cooper catches up to them, the two dying men will surely fight desperately to protect the treasure. As long as the struggle is fierce enough, with the hint I gave, Brian Cooper will...

Why are William Bennett and the other one looking at me like that? I smiled at them, and they actually shuddered. “Am I even more ruthless than Cao Cao now?” I tried to speak to them as gently as possible. “No, boss, your benevolence and righteousness are known throughout the land. My admiration for you is like…” “Enough, enough,” I said to them. “Where are those three prisoners now?”

“They were put to sleep with morphine. Since their bodies have never been exposed to any Western medicine, they probably won’t wake up until tomorrow morning. But if you want to question them now, I have a way to wake them up immediately,” said David Clark.

“Wake them up right now. We have to leave this place quickly tomorrow, so tonight we must decide whether to kill them or let them go. Also, I’ve already decided that our destination this time is to go to Gongsun Zan in Liaodong. In ancient times, people didn’t travel far—some never left their villages their whole lives. Abraham Lincoln hasn’t seen Gongsun Zan for many days, and at 19, when he went to study, it was the time when his appearance changed the most. If the Abraham Lincoln we’re playing can’t even fool Gongsun Zan, then there’s no point in playing Abraham Lincoln at all.”

Ignoring the bandits’ terrified expressions, as if they’d seen Abraham Lincoln come back from the dead, I interrogated them. The three bandits were called Steven Brooks, Richard Evans, and a burly man who dared to call himself Patrick Turner. “Patrick Turner, are you the same Patrick Turner who fought Zhang Fei, Zhang Yide, for thirty rounds?” I asked in half-baked classical Chinese. “Who is Yide?” the big man stared at me blankly and replied.

I was speechless. How could I forget that it’s only the third year of Guanghe right now? Abraham Lincoln might not even know Zhang Fei, Zhang Yide, yet. The Yellow Turban Rebellion is still four years away—how could this man have fought Yide for thirty rounds?

Still, if he really is that Patrick Turner, I’ve struck gold. In that era, there were very few people who could fight Zhang Fei, that super-strong man, for thirty rounds. Even the fierce general Xiahou Dun from Cao Cao’s camp only lasted seven or eight rounds before fleeing. Xu Huang and Zhang He could only last a dozen or so rounds. But Patrick Turner, when attacking Beihai Commandery, encountered Abraham Lincoln who came to help Tao Qian, and fought over thirty rounds before being killed by Zhang Fei. His bravery could really compare to Xiahou Dun.

However, the Patrick Turner in front of me survived this fierce battle, becoming one of only three lucky survivors out of more than 200 bandits, and could even hold his own against Abraham Lincoln for a long time. If it weren’t for our unexpected appearance, he’d probably have a bright future, maybe even become a famous bandit and eventually fight Zhang Fei. I decided, I definitely won’t let him go.

“You kill and rob, taking lives. I want to hand you over to the authorities, but I fear none of you would survive. My heart can’t bear it. If I let you go into the mountains and forests, I fear you’ll harm others again. What should I do with you?” I said to them.

“If I must die, so be it. What is there to fear?” Patrick Turner said loudly. What a character—I like it. “You are all seriously injured. For now, stay by my side. When your wounds are healed, I’ll decide what to do with you.” Once you’re healed, I’ll think about what to do with you. As if I’d be moved and let you go by then. Just wait for the day you work like an ox or a horse for me.

The treatment was very effective. While David Clark was bandaging them, except for Patrick Turner, who was still a bit shy and awkward, Steven Brooks and Richard Evans were already moved to tears. After the bandaging was done, even Patrick Turner knelt on the ground, sobbing and saying, “My lord is so benevolent and righteous. We will serve you to the death.”