It is said that Emily Smith is the incense master of the Red Flower Hall of the Heaven and Earth Society, highly skilled in martial arts and adept at archery and horsemanship, possessing the courage to stand against ten thousand men. She is the widow of the Heaven and Earth Society hero Samuel Turner, but before the two could even hold their wedding ceremony, Samuel Turner was captured and killed by the authorities. On that very day, Emily Smith put her hair up in a bun and took on the title of Lady Xue, even though she was only fourteen years old at the time. That was four years ago—so now, isn’t Emily Smith exactly eighteen?

All the gossip about Emily Smith was told to William Sullivan by Charles Bennett. Charles Bennett is the most gossipy person, endlessly enthusiastic about such topics, and William Sullivan used to treat these as mere tales of the martial world. But now, it’s clear these rumors are true. Still, why did she suddenly come to the capital? Isn’t she afraid of falling into a trap?

These thoughts flashed through William Sullivan’s mind. Hearing Emily Smith’s question, he could only admit honestly, “Yes, I’ve heard people mention it.”

Emily Smith gently nodded her delicate chin, glanced at William Sullivan a few more times, and said, “Write a letter to Charles Bennett, invite him to Juxian Tower to watch an opera.”

William Sullivan immediately guessed her intention and shook his head repeatedly. “How could Mr. Bennett listen to me? Don’t you know how stubborn he is?” Although he’d suffered a lot because of Charles Bennett, William Sullivan would never betray a friend he’d known since they were both running around naked as children.

Emily Smith’s elegant brows furrowed slightly. “He was willing to... give you that, so how could you two be mere acquaintances?”

William Sullivan replied, “Miss, you see clearly. That was because I rendered a service, so Mr. Bennett rewarded me with you. Besides, if I’d seen your beauty earlier, even if Mr. Bennett had lost his mind, he wouldn’t have handed you over so easily.”

Hearing this, several men nearby shouted and cursed loudly. One of them, looking fierce, strode forward as if he was about to chop off William Sullivan’s head. Emily Smith made a gesture, and though everyone was indignant, no one dared to make any more noise.

Emily Smith’s clear, star-like eyes blinked as she stared at William Sullivan, and she laughed softly, “You’re not being honest, are you? Don’t worry, write the letter and in a couple of days I’ll let you go home. I, Emily Smith, keep my word.”

William Sullivan just kept shaking his head. “I’m telling the truth. If you don’t believe me, then forget it.”

Emily Smith’s gaze gradually turned sharp, and she said softly, “Do you really think I don’t dare to kill you?”

Chapter Three: Bluff, Young Master

Though her voice was charming and pleasant, William Sullivan’s scalp tingled slightly. His instincts told him that this stunning beauty was a rose with thorns—this was no joke. One wrong move and she might just take his life.

But don’t be fooled by William Sullivan’s usual unremarkable appearance, seeming clueless and useless in the prince’s residence—a typical case of each generation worse than the last. In truth, in his previous life, William Sullivan was extremely proud. Though an orphan, he earned a scholarship to Cambridge University in England through his own efforts, studying diligently every day, almost to the point of hanging his head from the beam and pricking his thigh with an awl, because he knew that as an orphan, he had to rely on himself for everything. To succeed, he had to work a thousand times harder than others.

But after being reborn, William Sullivan became lazy, feeling there was nothing to strive for in this world. After all, what was there to pursue? To help the Manchus drag out their dying days a little longer? What was the point? The gap between Chinese and Western civilization now wasn’t about technology, but about social systems. The West was gradually moving toward a modern civilized society, while China was still closed off, treating technology as witchcraft, not to mention being extremely backward in terms of institutions. As for the gunboats and cannons bullying China, they were merely minor byproducts of Western civilization’s system.

Still, lazy as he was, William Sullivan’s pride from his previous life remained. Threatened with death, William Sullivan became stubborn and said coldly, “If you want to kill me, just do it! No need for more words.” Death—William Sullivan really wasn’t afraid. He’d already died once; there was nothing to fear.

Emily Smith was slightly taken aback—she hadn’t expected this little trickster to get tough.

“Damn it, I’ll kill you!” The short, stocky man seemed to have it in for William Sullivan, always looking for a chance to jump out. If he didn’t chop William Sullivan up, he just couldn’t rest easy.

At this point, William Sullivan could see the situation in the hall clearly. Besides Emily Smith and the short man, there were two or three others sitting on chairs on either side, none of them looking kind. Now they all jumped down, making a commotion. Someone even shouted, “Senior Sister, dig out this little demon’s heart as a sacrifice to the ancestor, so Brother Smith will be safe!”

The short man grabbed William Sullivan by the neck and looked him up and down, as if figuring out where to start cutting. That sinister gaze made William Sullivan feel uneasy all over. Death wasn’t scary, but being cut open alive was truly terrifying.

“David Clark, forget it, lock him up for now.” Emily Smith finally spoke. Only then did William Sullivan feel relieved, realizing that his cold, wet body was now drenched in sweat again.

...

When William Sullivan was locked in the east wing, the distant sound of the third watch’s clapper had just rung. The suffering he endured that night was indescribable—his clothes were soaking wet, his hands tied behind his back burned with pain, probably scraped raw, and the back of his head hurt as if it had split open. He didn’t know if it was just a bump or if he’d been left with a hole.

At dawn, William Sullivan was brought to the main hall again. He was truly helpless—did these people never sleep? Were they made of iron?