He crunched on the pickled radish. He found it all rather comical—so, he had traveled to the Ming Dynasty, but having a wife was as good as not having one at all. No wonder he hadn’t seen this “wife” since he “woke up.” But perhaps that was for the best, saving himself from awkwardness and embarrassment.

  “Henry Clark, was I... was I really... really bad before?” Ethan Clark sipped a bowl of cornmeal porridge, looking up at Henry Clark with some curiosity.

  “No, no, young master, you... you used to be very promising. When the old master was alive, you even passed the county-level exam—you were the only scholar in our Yanshen Town. But later, after the old master and old madam passed away, with no one to keep you in check, you changed. You became lazy, gluttonous, and picked up a gambling habit...” Henry Clark waved his hands repeatedly, then glanced at him with some fear and lowered his head.

  “Pfft!” Ethan Clark spat out a mouthful of porridge, spraying it all over Henry Clark.

  This wastrel was actually a scholar? The kind of person a notch above commoners, who didn’t even have to kneel before the county magistrate? He was utterly astonished. In just half a day, the original owner of this body had already brought him so many “inconceivable” things—it was simply beyond comprehension!

  After a while, Ethan Clark finally came back to his senses. After Henry Clark finished clearing the dishes and left, he began to wander around the three rooms. The easternmost was the bedroom, the middle was the living and dining room, and the westernmost was the study. Entering the study, he was greeted by a huge lattice bookshelf and a square table painted bright red, with brush, ink, paper, and inkstone all laid out. However, everything was covered in a layer of dust.

  In his previous life, Master Kingston had force-fed him a bellyful of classical studies. Although he majored in industrial arts at university, he also took some courses in classical Chinese. He walked to the bookshelf, casually flipped through a few thread-bound books—understanding them was no problem. He had some knowledge of classical Chinese and traditional characters, though the ancient writing style took some getting used to.

  He took a brush from the brush holder on the table, pulled out a sheet of rice paper from the shelf, blew away the thin layer of dust on the table, and wrote in bold characters: “The long, hard road is truly like iron, but now we stride forward from the very start!”

  The calligraphy was wild and powerful, quite impressive. He chuckled—maybe there was a way forward! With the status of a scholar and some foundation in classical Chinese, if he worked hard to master the “eight-legged essay,” perhaps he could even pass the imperial exams and embark on an official career.

  At this thought, his heart filled with clarity and excitement. His mother was gone, and his father was cared for by a dutiful elder sister. Since he had no attachments in his previous life, he might as well live well in this Ming Dynasty. He didn’t seek to live a life of earth-shattering greatness, but only to live fully and splendidly. At the very least, he couldn’t let this trip be in vain.

  He practiced calligraphy for a while, browsed through the Four Books and Five Classics on the shelf, and idly passed more than an hour. Unknowingly, the sun was already slanting west, nearing dusk. Yet the stifling heat had hardly lessened, still as muggy as ever.

  Suddenly, a commotion sounded outside.

  Ethan Clark leaned lazily against the doorframe, watching as several men dressed as government yamen runners entered the courtyard, holding dark iron chains.

  “Who is Ethan Clark?” the leader barked.

  “I am,” Ethan Clark replied calmly, his face showing no sign of panic. Judging by the situation, he knew it must be Kevin Foster, whom he had punched that morning, going to the authorities.

  “You assaulted a good citizen for no reason and have been reported. The inspector summons you to court. Come on, Scholar Lin—surely a man of letters doesn’t need us to put him in chains?” The leader spoke, shaking the chains in his hand with a clatter.

  Ethan Clark let out a long sigh and followed the yamen runners outside. After a few steps, he turned back to look at the anxious Henry Clark. “Henry Clark, don’t panic. Tell your father to bring me the land deeds for our family’s fields in the countryside.”

  ……

  Yanshen Town was at the southernmost end of Yidu County, Qingzhou Prefecture, surrounded by mountains and with poor transportation. But since the Yuan Dynasty, the locals had made a living firing porcelain, and over time, the original small village developed into a large market town, becoming the largest porcelain production and distribution center north of the Yangtze, gradually prospering. Thus, though called a “town,” it had sturdy city walls, making it a small city in scale. It was said that in the early Hongwu years, several major porcelain merchants in the area had pooled their resources to build it.

  Yidu County had set up an inspection office in Yanshen Town, roughly equivalent to a modern town government, but with administrative, judicial, and security powers.

  A land temple built in the previous dynasty had been slightly renovated and converted into the “office building” of the Yanshen Town inspection office.

  Because they knew Ethan Clark was a scholar, the yamen runners didn’t give him much trouble and didn’t put him in chains. At the entrance of the inspection office, Old Clark hurriedly caught up and handed the family’s land deeds to Ethan Clark. Ethan Clark took them and gave him a slight smile. “Old Butler, you go back first. Don’t worry about me.”

  Getting into a lawsuit, and in this unfamiliar Ming Dynasty—was Ethan Clark nervous? To say he wasn’t at all would be a lie. But what good would panic do? He still had to face it. Having practiced martial arts and literature with Master Kingston in the temple since childhood, he was long used to staying calm in the face of trouble and chaos.