“Let me put it this way: Westerners have invented something called the telegraph. With a wire connecting two places, whatever you say can be transmitted thousands of miles away in an instant. Then there are trains, powered by iron machines at the front, with strength tens of thousands, even millions of times greater than oxen or horses, pulling cargo as they race down the tracks. There are also cameras, which can instantly capture your reflection in the mirror and preserve it as a keepsake.”

“These are all science and technology, not witchcraft. In the future, there will even be machines that can fly in the sky, carrying dozens or even hundreds of people.”

“You want to rule the world, but what’s the point of becoming empress after you seize the throne? When the Westerners invade, how will you stand against them?”

Hearing William Sullivan start rambling again, Emily Smith’s initial admiration for this kid’s broad knowledge quickly vanished.

But William Sullivan had no idea what Emily Smith was thinking. He pushed the wooden box over with a grin and said, “Here, you can continue now, right? I’ll teach you how to use firearms. If you want to be invincible in battle, firearms are your best choice.”

Faced with such a lazy person, Emily Smith felt powerless, but could only take the wooden box. She straightened her expression and said seriously, “Young Master Sullivan, let me be clear: I am grateful for your great kindness, but please don’t think that Emily Brooks is a frivolous woman.”

To be honest, Emily Smith was truly born with a seductive charm and stunning beauty. Every frown and smile could captivate souls. Even amidst thousands of troops, her red lips would curve in a smile as she came and went like the wind. Her silvery laughter would ring out as enemy generals lost their heads. Her fame was well known among the Green Standard Army in the two Guang provinces, who called her the Charming Rakshasa.

But when facing William Sullivan, Emily Smith had to keep a stern face all day, lest William Sullivan take advantage of the situation and say something outrageous, or worse, misunderstand that she had any feelings for him.

After all, William Sullivan was her lifesaver, so she couldn’t show her true colors and let him see how formidable she really was.

William Sullivan naturally understood what Emily Smith meant. He nodded slightly and replied seriously, “Of course. Miss Smith, your loyalty to your late husband is something I truly admire.” And he meant it.

Only then did Emily Smith feel at ease.

William Sullivan began explaining to Emily Smith how to load the gun and how to aim. “Align the three points in a straight line. Yes, yes, just like that.” As he spoke, the room suddenly shook violently. Emily Smith fell back onto the bed, and William Sullivan stumbled, falling forward.

“Ah!” William Sullivan cried out. Seeing that he was about to fall onto Emily Smith, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his chest, waist, and legs, and found himself suspended in midair.

William Sullivan snapped back to his senses and realized that Emily Smith’s left hand was supporting his chest, her right hand was pressing a revolver against his waist, and her knee was braced against his legs, keeping him from falling on top of her.

But this position was far too intimate. William Sullivan looked down and his heart skipped a beat. That exquisitely beautiful face was right in front of him, those bright red, tempting lips just a tilt of the head away from being kissed hard, her flawless fair neck and delicate earlobes in full view, her snow-white hand with painted nails resting on his chest. Beneath him, her heaving chest in the red dress trembled with her soft breaths, making William Sullivan think of the phrase “yielding yet resisting.” His mind went blank, and for a moment, he felt like he was about to explode.

What made William Sullivan even weaker was that, although he hadn’t actually touched her, being suspended in midair by her knee, feeling that strength and elasticity, he could easily imagine the soft, smooth allure of the body beneath him.

It was truly: pure white snow beneath a crimson dress, endless charm in every curve; tender as water, peaks like jade, spring breezes entwined beneath a mandarin duck quilt.

Though it takes long to describe, it all happened in a split second. Dizzy and dazed, William Sullivan suddenly felt as if he were flying through the clouds, then was pulled upright and set steadily in front of the bed.

It took William Sullivan a while to recover, only to see that graceful figure opening the door to leave. William Sullivan hurried after her and asked, “Where are you going?” Emily Smith kept a stern face and ignored him.

William Sullivan knew that this time, Emily Smith was truly angry. Even a blind man could see his lecherous expression, let alone Emily Smith. In her world, he was probably nothing more than a lascivious scoundrel. If they had just met, she would probably have stabbed him full of holes without a second thought.

Sigh, but how could he blame himself? William Sullivan shook his head and sighed.

He had tasted the pleasures of intimacy twenty years ago, and his identity in this world only made him more tempting. Yet he truly didn’t want to be a lecher, so he could only suppress his desires. Take that farewell banquet with Dachun and the others, for example. Even though he kept a cold face, Cuixian’s blatant seduction would have set any normal man ablaze with desire, but he managed to remain unmoved. Even Liu Xiahui couldn’t have done better.

But why did all the suffering of these twenty years come back to haunt him tonight? And with Miss Smith, of all people?

He had just praised her for her loyalty, and in the blink of an eye, he’d become a lecher in her eyes. How could he face anyone now?

William Sullivan felt his head spinning, left only with a heart full of frustration.

But there was one thing he didn’t understand: why did Emily Smith pull him up at the last moment instead of letting him crash to the ground? Everything had happened in a flash—was it just an instinctive reaction? Could it be that, deep down, she didn’t actually dislike him that much?

Thinking of this, William Sullivan gave a bitter smile. No need to comfort himself—how could that be possible?

Chapter Eleven: Trendsetter! Contract Marriage?