Thinking of that disheveled pretty boy lying on Grace Walker’s boudoir bed just now, a sinister look flashed across the young man’s face, quickly disappearing into the night.

　　……

　　……

　　“Ah!”

　 A sharp scream suddenly rang out from the doorway. The man who wanted to become the Pirate King frowned slightly and slowly opened his eyes.

　　Edward Thompson had another long, long nightmare—so real it was terrifying.

　 He looked around. Still the antique-style architecture, the girlish decorations by the bed, the familiar fragrance...

　 Well, it wasn’t a dream.

　 A strange chill swept through, making Edward Thompson shiver involuntarily. Sleeping naked and kicking off the covers really had its downsides. He hurriedly grabbed the clothes beside him and first put on what looked like underwear but was really no different from a loincloth—let’s just call it underwear for now.

　 Wait, how do you put on this robe?

　 The bright red groom’s robe—he’d already struggled to take it off last night, and after wrapping it around himself this morning, he realized how bizarre its design was. Edward Thompson had no idea how to put it on properly.

　 A small head peeked in from outside the door.

　 A timid-looking young girl with double buns ran in, speaking softly, “Young master, let this servant help you get dressed…”

　 Only then did Edward Thompson notice that the maid-dressed girl was holding a stack of clothes in her arms. He thought to himself that the beauty from last night was indeed considerate; that bright red groom’s robe was a bit too flashy to wear out. Thinking back, the scream just now was probably from this little maid, and as for the reason, Edward Thompson’s old face flushed red.

　 Being seen sleeping naked—definitely not something to be proud of.

Since he’d already accepted reality, Edward Thompson simply stood up generously, stretched out his hands, and let the blushing young girl help him put on the robe.

In this era, there were naturally no dressing mirrors, not even real mirrors. Edward Thompson held up a small bronze mirror and looked himself up and down several times. The moon-white long robe fit just right, his hair was a bit messy, but the pretty boy’s looks were truly handsome—fair skin, well-defined features. Standing in front of the mirror, he exuded a faint scholarly aura.

The fifteen- or sixteen-year-old girl stood prettily to the side, sneaking glances at the handsome young master her lady had just snatched yesterday. Her face turned even redder.

“Young master is really so handsome… much better looking than that second aunt’s nephew…”

While Edward Thompson was “admiring himself in the mirror,” as if remembering something, the little maid suddenly dashed out, and soon after, ran back in carrying a thick stack of books.

“Y-young master, the lady said… said if you want to read, just tell this servant…”

The only wooden table in the room had heroically sacrificed itself last night. The little maid looked around, finally placed the books on a low stool nearby, and said breathlessly.

Ancient script and modern script were still quite different. Edward Thompson glanced at the top book and could tell from the title alone that it definitely wasn’t in simplified characters.

This made him even more determined not to take the imperial exam route—such a crooked path. Life was so good as it was now: no need to work hard or struggle, retired at home at seventeen, wandering his own mountain when the weather was nice, inspecting his territory—what could be more pleasant than this?

Casually picking up a book and opening the first page, Edward Thompson felt a “boom” explode in his mind, his brain going completely blank.

His consciousness seemed to drift further and further away, his vision blurred, and when Edward Thompson could see clearly again, the antique room was gone, the pretty little maid was gone, and in front of him were rows of familiar bookshelves. Looking up, Edward Thompson saw rows of neatly numbered books.

“I’m back again?”

Standing in the all-too-familiar provincial library, Edward Thompson muttered to himself.

But then, his consciousness was once again flooded by a torrent of chaotic information.

In the room, the little maid watched the young master reading intently, admiration shining in her beautiful big eyes. She quietly closed the door and slipped out.

“‘Records of the Jing Kingdom’!”

A moment later, Edward Thompson stood in the room, holding a book called “Records of the Jing Kingdom.” Every word in the book was deeply engraved in his mind, and the previously unfamiliar script had somehow become very familiar.

“What the hell is this?” Edward Thompson stared blankly, the heavy book slipping from his hand and falling to the floor.

Fortunately, he’d already experienced enough bizarre things these past two days, so Edward Thompson didn’t collapse to the ground in fright. After confirming that the book’s contents were all imprinted in his mind, he focused, and the previous scene appeared before his eyes again.

At this moment, next to the bookshelf where he’d just been standing, another row had appeared. But on this newly added shelf, there was only a single lonely book.

Edward Thompson glanced over—wasn’t it that “Records of the Jing Kingdom”?

Jing Kingdom?

Even though Edward Thompson was an engineering guy with a shockingly poor grasp of history, he still knew that in five thousand years of Chinese civilization, there had never been a country called “Jing.”

What is this place?