Loose and baggy cropped pants were the underpants worn by women in the Song Dynasty. Normally, they would wear an apron over them, and then put on a long robe like a beizi. Women who needed to work would also wear a kind of clothing similar to modern culottes for convenience, skipping the skirt altogether—this was called "kun".

　　"Looks like foreign technology is still reliable. I, Howard Clark, have made a round and come back again!"

　　To confirm his suspicion, Thomas Foster propped himself up with his arm to look at his outfit, then let out a big sigh of relief and lay back down on the bed.

　　His top was a gauzy, cross-collared short jacket, and he wore matching cropped pants below, barefoot and without socks.

　　Thomas Foster had no idea what men's underwear looked like in Jia Baoyu's era, but the set he was wearing now was basically the same as the Song Dynasty men's underwear he had seen before.

　　The top was called a "hanshan"—that's right, a sweat shirt. This word isn't a loanword; it existed as early as the Han Dynasty. The pants below were called "knee pants." Funny enough, Song Dynasty pants didn't differ between men and women in style—only in color and size.

　　"Darling... you're awake. Does your head hurt?"

　　Maybe the noise from lying down was a bit much, and the woman beside him was woken up. Her first words after opening her eyes made Thomas Foster's heart skip a beat: "Darling!" Damn, did I transmigrate into Pan Jinlian's house?

　　But that didn't seem right either. He had just looked up and seemed to recall that his body wasn't short...

　　"...It still hurts a bit..."

　　Thomas Foster had no idea who this woman was, nor what his own identity was, so he didn't dare address her casually. He could only go along with her for now and try to fish for information.

　　Speaking of this woman, Thomas Foster felt a pang of sympathy after just one glance. Her features were delicate—one could even say exquisite and petite. By his own standards, she was quite pretty, but there was a deep sorrow etched between her brows.

　　"The doctor said you were kicked in the head by a horse and might be unconscious for some time. If you didn't wake up, we'd have to trouble the imperial physician. I was planning to go to the palace tomorrow to beg Her Ladyship for help, but who knew you'd wake up so soon." At this, a faint smile appeared on the woman's face. It was clear that she was genuinely happy that Thomas Foster had woken up.

　　"...I was kicked in the head by a horse! Whose horse?" Thomas Foster was also quite pleased—there was a lot of information in that sentence. First, there was the matter of compensation. In ancient times, a horse was like a car; if a car hit you, you should at least get some compensation, right?

　　If you ask what the first priority is after transmigrating, Thomas Foster didn't even need to think: money!

　　No matter how you want to live or what you want to do, you can't do anything without money. Instead of racking your brains to earn your first pot of gold, getting some compensation from a traffic accident is obviously more time- and energy-efficient.

　　Of course, what kind of vehicle hit you matters. If it was a little QQ, you probably couldn't squeeze much out of it. But if it was a luxury car... well, that's worth thinking about.

　　"...Darling, have you forgotten? It was your favorite blue steed..." Unfortunately, the woman's words dashed all of Thomas Foster's hopes—turns out he was the one driving and caused the accident. If he didn't have to compensate others, that would already be lucky.

　　"Uh... maybe the kick was too hard, I can't remember anything... Can you tell me first, who am I? And who are you?"

　　With the first pot of gold gone, he had to look for some other compensation. The question of identity would have to be faced sooner or later. Instead of beating around the bush, it was better to take this opportunity to be direct. After all, his head had been kicked by a donkey—plenty of reason!

　　"Darling, don't joke with me..." The faint smile that had just appeared on the woman's face vanished instantly. She leaned in close, trying to read the truth from Thomas Foster's expression.

　　"I'm really not joking. When I opened my eyes just now, my mind was completely blank—I can't even remember my own name." Looking at this pale yet delicate face so close to his, Thomas Foster decided to take a risk and trust that she wouldn't use this chance to harm him.

　　"Don't worry, darling, I'll go to the palace right away to fetch the imperial physician... Lily! Lily!" It seemed Thomas Foster had made the right gamble. The woman's expression was filled with panic and anxiety, but not a trace of joy.

Chapter 2: The Starting Point Is Too Low

　　"Sister, did you call me? ...Master..." The door opened in response, and a little girl in a light green dress slipped in, round-faced with two braids tied into loops on her head.

　　She entered the room all smiles, but as soon as she saw Thomas Foster, she immediately became very proper, standing there timidly with her head down, as if even one more glance would get her eaten.

　　"Come with me to the palace to fetch the imperial physician for the master. Be quick about it, we can't afford any delay!" The woman on the bed didn't pay any attention to the little girl's expression. She spoke as she got up, put on a beizi, and walked out.

　　The little girl hurriedly agreed and ran after her. As she closed the door, she peeked back through the crack, and when she saw Thomas Foster staring straight at her, she quickly pulled her face away.

　　"Looks like I'm still pretty intimidating..." The woman was gone, and so was the little girl. The room and the outside were both quiet. Thomas Foster sat up alone, stretched his arms and legs, and prepared to walk around a bit. He needed to get a clear sense of his surroundings before making his next move.