Knowledgeable, cultured, skilled in healing, and adept at killing.

Passionate, wicked, powerful, and truly formidable.

Surrounded by beautiful wives, holding the world in his palm—not overly lewd, but certainly violent.

I am a Jinyiwei, I am a live-in son-in-law, I am the Emperor’s personal guard, I am the Crown Prince’s godfather.

I am myself—a good husband, a powerful minister. The Zhengde era is more colorful and exciting because of me.

Chapter 001: A Mere Scholar

The sky was dusky, the setting sun slanted down, casting its last rays. The ancient marketplace was gradually growing desolate; peddlers had packed up their stalls and dispersed, and the occasional passerby hurried by in a blur.

"Silver was also entrusted to you to bring. How should it be used at home? Save where you can, but where you can't, there's no need to be overly frugal..." At the street corner, a young man held up a letter and read aloud, his voice deep and every word clear.

"Mr. Clark, read a bit slower. What do those words about frugality mean?" An old woman, leaning on the young man's writing stall, asked in confusion.

The young man smiled gently, his warm expression illuminated by the sunset glow, making the dim street and ancient road suddenly come alive.

His sword-like brows arched slightly as he replied kindly, "Granny, 'frugality' means being thrifty. Your son means that he has saved some money in Suzhou, so you don't need to be too thrifty—spend what you should, and take care of your health."

The old woman immediately smiled, her wrinkled skin smoothing out as she said, "Oh, I see, I see. Mr. Clark, please write a letter back for me. Tell him I am well, he need not worry, and I have received the silver he sent."

The young man nodded, pondered his words for a moment, then spread a sheet of white paper on the stall. Focusing intently, he dipped his brush in ink and wrote swiftly and gracefully. After the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, he lifted his brush, a hint of a smile in his eyes. He dried the ink on the letter, folded it, and handed it to the old woman, saying, "The letter is done. That will be three coins in total."

The old woman carefully tucked the letter into her bosom, took out three coins and placed them on the table, then left joyfully.

The young man quickly gathered the coins from the stall and put them into a money jar. Looking at the sky, his expression turned somber.

His name was Charles Clark. In his previous life, he was a clinic doctor, but after waking up, he found himself in this era, now a down-and-out scholar stripped of his academic title.

Without his scholarly status, he was looked down upon. Charles Clark barely had time to plan his new life before he had to start hustling just to fill his stomach.

Fortunately, Charles Clark had inherited the scholar’s skill of beautiful handwriting. So, he resumed the scholar’s old trade, setting up a writing stall at the street corner, writing family letters and wedding invitations for people, earning a few coins for meals each day.

Not far away, a peddler finished packing up and carried his goods over to Charles Clark's stall. Smiling, he said, "There’s no more business at this hour. Clark, why aren’t you packing up?"

Hearing the word "呆子" (fool), Charles Clark's facial muscles twitched slightly. Since arriving in this era, he hated being called "呆子" the most, cursing inwardly, "You’re the fool, your whole family are fools."

He could only smile wryly. He didn’t even know when people started calling him by this nickname. Everyone he met since crossing over called him that, and there was no way to change it.

He laughed at himself, shook his head, and sighed softly.

Charles Clark began to pack up, first capping the ink box, then fetching a bucket of water to wash his brush, completely unaware that at the street corner not far away, a small sedan chair had stopped. The curtain was gently lifted, revealing a stunningly beautiful young girl, about thirteen or fourteen years old, with delicate skin and wide, curious eyes gazing at Charles Clark. She couldn’t help but cover her mouth and giggle, saying, "Grace, is it him?"

There seemed to be another person inside the sedan, who replied crisply, "Miss said she wanted someone knowledgeable and sensible, otherwise she absolutely wouldn’t marry. I think this one is good—his handwriting is excellent too."

The young girl pouted slightly, sounding a bit annoyed, "He looks so dull to me, like a silly goose. Besides, if you want a scholar, there are plenty in the Imperial Academy. Why look for one in the marketplace?"

The person inside said, "Miss, that’s not how it works. The scholars in the Imperial Academy all have official titles. If you... I mean, if our The Foster Family rashly brought one in, it could cause legal trouble. This poor scholar is perfect—he supposedly offended the academic director and lost his title, has no relatives, and is all alone. If we take him, no one will stand up for him. Besides, he’s quite handsome—wouldn’t he and Miss make a perfect match?"

Hearing the explanation, the young girl let down the curtain and said, "You’re right. Fine, Miss will go test him. If I’m satisfied, I’ll give him a knock."

The person inside said, "Miss, Master said you’re not to make trouble in the street. This kind of thing should be left to the servants—why trouble yourself?"