“To play cuju, the rewards from the imperial consorts are generous! Master, you teach me badminton, and I’ll teach you cuju!” Lily was a little money-grubber; she was always eager to do anything that could earn her a reward. But in the residence, Thomas Foster wouldn’t let her play badminton, so naturally, she couldn’t win any rewards.

Cuju as a sport still exists in later generations, called polo, and the rules haven’t changed much. The Song people actually liked sports quite a bit, whether nobles or commoners—whenever there was a chance to be active, they wouldn’t miss it. It was a nationwide thing; everyone played their own games, and no one got in each other’s way.

“Lily, don’t talk so much, or I’ll tell Nanny when we get back!” Before Charles Bennett could say whether he was willing or not, the princess spoke up first. If it weren’t for her husband insisting on riding, she would have preferred to take the carriage. If you get kicked by a horse and go mad, what if you get kicked again and it reverses?

“Ah… Madam, that’s Mr. Thompson up ahead!” Lily stuck out her tongue and quieted down; it seemed she was still rather afraid of Nanny Bennett. But she didn’t stay quiet for even a minute before she started shouting again, as if she’d run into a bandit.

“I’ll go pay my respects…” By now, they had reached outside the Xihua Gate of the imperial city. Two horses were stopped at the intersection—not waiting for a traffic light, surely—because Thomas Foster recognized one of the men, or at least had seen him before.

“Has Dr. Thompson been well lately?” The middle-aged man in the green robe was the fake imperial physician Leonard Thompson, who had once accompanied the emperor to test him. Even though Thomas Foster knew he’d been forced into it, he didn’t show any courtesy and continued to play the fool.

“John Bennett, you jest. An imperial order cannot be disobeyed, cannot be disobeyed…” Leonard Thompson hadn’t expected Charles Bennett to be so sharp-tongued, and his face flushed red. He raised both hands to his chest in salute while still on horseback—a clear sign of surrender: “You win, let’s not bring up that matter again!”

“Brother Bolton, it’s not that I’m petty, but it was truly dangerous. If you don’t bleed a little, I just can’t let it go!”

Thinking back to how urgent things were at the time, Thomas Foster really couldn’t get over it. What’s a true friend? You only find out at critical moments. Since he didn’t treat him as a true friend, there was no need to pity him.

“This—this won’t do. I’m as weak as a chicken; how could I possibly fight you!”

It seemed this The Great Painter Thompson was indeed timid. Hearing the word “bleed,” he thought Charles Bennett wanted to duel, and he kept pulling his horse back in fright. If there hadn’t been another person and horse blocking him from behind, he might have turned and run.

“Physical pain can be compensated with money. If you buy me a drink, I won’t beat you up. But my wife gets to pick the place—no excuses!”

You have to be tough with timid people. Thomas Foster rolled up his sleeves, showing off his not-so-strong arms, but his expression was spot-on—one hundred percent like a street punk. Even though he was in ancient costume, his attitude hadn’t changed.

“Deal, deal… Ah, John Bennett has misled me! Sir, please don’t blame me. John Bennett has been mad for a long time and can’t judge people; it’s not arrogance or rudeness…” This time, Leonard Thompson understood. It wasn’t a duel, just a shakedown for a meal. He finally let go of the reins and stopped preparing to flee.

But as soon as his nerves relaxed, he suddenly remembered there was still someone behind him. He immediately tensed up again, bowed deeply on horseback, apologized profusely, and even dragged Philip into it.

“If you buy me a drink, I won’t hold it against you!” The man behind was quite old, his clothes shabby, his beard almost in braids, a bit unkempt. But his voice was loud, his eyes especially bright, and he even bared his teeth at Charles Bennett.

“Forgive my poor eyesight… My apologies, my apologies…”

Thomas Foster had originally thought this old man was Leonard Thompson’s groom or attendant and hadn’t even looked at him properly. Now, hearing how Leonard Thompson addressed him, he was stunned.

Sir—in the Song dynasty, this title ranked just below the emperor, a bit like “old leader” or “former superior.” Unless you held a high enough position, you couldn’t be called that.

Leonard Thompson was at least a metropolitan official and a talented man. For him to use the word Sir, it had to be genuine. Whoever he was, it was safest to pay respects first. After all, he was playing the madman—no one would blame him.

Chapter 12: A Remarkable Man

“Captain, no need for so much ceremony. This isn’t the court; I’m just a man who craves wine and is short on cash…”

The old man was easygoing and thick-skinned, making no attempt to hide his intention to freeload. As he spoke, he even licked his lips, as if he hadn’t seen wine or meat in eight hundred years.

“This is the Grand Academician of the Guanwen Hall, the current chief minister, Jeffrey BennettMr. Bennett!”

Others only knew that PhilipCharles Bennett had gone mad, but didn’t have a clear idea of how mad. Leonard Thompson was probably one of the few who knew the details, so he quickly made introductions.

“Mr. Bennett… My respects…” Thomas Foster really had no idea what a Grand Academician of the Guanwen Hall did; he’d only heard of the Grand Academician of the Longtu Pavilion on TV—like Bao Zheng.

As for whether it was Brother-in-law Bennett or Brother-in-law Thompson, he had no recollection. Did the Song dynasty really have a prime minister with such a ridiculous name? Calling everyone “brother-in-law”? That’s just shameless—naming yourself to take advantage of others.