Volume One

Chapter 1 James Cooper and William Brooks

"Osmanthus fragrance…"

It was still that dreamlike, surreal feeling, as if his soul was diffusing through the air, gradually attaching to a body after soaking up its contents.

When his five senses began to function again, the first to respond to the outside world was his nose—a faint fragrance, not like perfume, nor like incense, but as if he were surrounded by flowers and their drifting scent.

"Summer…"

Next, his hearing returned, and the sound of cicadas chirping reached his ears.

"It's a big hall, the roof is thick… Let's hope it's not a cave!"

His body started to regain sensation too. There was no coolness from air conditioning, but the temperature felt comfortable.

Since he could hear cicadas, it definitely wasn't a basement. The only places that could stay cool indoors during summer were old-style halls, temple chambers, or caves.

"The bed is a bit hard… Don't tell me this is a damn coffin!?"

He moved his fingers slightly. The bedding beneath him and the clothes on his body felt silky smooth wherever he touched. That wasn't a good sign—generally, if someone is lying on a hard board dressed in silk and satin, it means they're dead. That's called being wrapped for burial!

"…Damn, this big house is pretty impressive!"

To make sure he hadn't been put in a coffin, Thomas Foster had to quietly open one eye. After a brief few seconds of adjustment, the first thing he saw was the intricate wood carvings and floral patterns on the ceiling, covering every beam and pillar, with not a single blank spot.

"Maybe I'm laid out in a temple for the dead…"

This kind of architecture most reminded Thomas Foster of Yonghe Palace and the Forbidden City. Lying in such a place dressed in silk and satin, the most reasonable explanation still seemed to be that he was dead!

"No way! There's even a burial companion… Did I reincarnate too far back this time!"

Now he had to skip the usual phase of holding his breath and pondering after rebirth, and open his other eye, then use his neck to look around. To the left… was a wooden board painted with exquisite patterns. With his limited artistic skills, he couldn't make out any useful information.

Looking to the right… If it were someone else, they'd have jumped up in fright. But Thomas Foster, this old monster, had already prepared for dozens of scenarios in advance. After all, this wasn't his first time experiencing such things—even if he opened his eyes to see an alien, he wouldn't be too emotionally shaken.

On his right lay a woman, her face deathly pale, lips blood-red, eyebrows starkly black… She looked exactly like someone who'd been made up for burial, and the mortician had even cut corners, using cheap cosmetics.

"Seems like she's alive…"

But the woman's features were actually quite delicate. Even in death, she wouldn't look hideous; in fact, she had a gentle, graceful air. Thomas Foster had always enjoyed admiring beautiful things, dead or alive.

So another question arose: she didn't seem dead, just asleep. As her chest gently rose and fell, warm breath came from her nose and mouth, and the osmanthus fragrance wafted over with her breathing.

"Dressed in silk, lying in a lavishly decorated room, with a sickly beauty beside me… Could it be that I've transmigrated into James Cooper!"

With these newly gathered clues, Thomas Foster made a preliminary judgment about his Nth life, and a sly smile crept onto his lips.

It hadn't been easy—his luck in previous lives had been poor, always ending up among the toiling masses, forced to struggle for survival as soon as he opened his eyes. No matter what he eventually achieved, it never suited his temperament.

James Cooper would be great—no worries about food or drink, surrounded by a crowd of young ladies who wouldn't leave even if you tried to chase them away. As long as he exercised a bit and showed some restraint, avoiding kidney and back problems, he could easily enjoy a life with a harem of wives and concubines!

As for the eventual decline and ruin of the Jia family, and the prospect of being left destitute, Thomas Foster really didn't see it as a problem. If nothing else, he was good at finding powerful backers for the family and always picking the right side.

"These clothes look familiar… They don't seem to be from the Qing dynasty…"

But just as he was getting excited about being Master Bao, Thomas Foster frowned again. The young woman's attire made him uncertain about the current era.

A light yellow, low-cut, sleeveless top made of very thin fabric. Her lower half was covered by loose, baggy pants of the same material, much like modern pajama pants.

If you swapped this woman's face for Julia Carter's, it would be exactly like that time he shared a bed with her at the restaurant. This kind of top was the Song dynasty woman's undergarment, called a guodu. It was actually quite modest—bolder women would wear an even shorter, lower-cut undergarment called a moxiong.