Master Sullivan saw that Kevin Thompson was only eating rice and not touching the dishes, so he asked curiously, “What’s wrong? Young man, do you not like the food?”

“Cough, cough, cough!”

Just what he feared most had happened. Kevin Thompson was startled and immediately choked badly.

“Slow down, no one’s fighting you for food. Liam Brooks, go pour a cup of tea for Young Master Thompson.” Yvonne Foster instructed Liam Foster, who was snickering on the side.

After taking a sip of tea, Kevin Thompson finally recovered, his face flushed as he said to Master Sullivan, “Master Sullivan, you must be joking. It’s truly a great honor for me to taste dishes personally cooked by you. It’s just that I’m quite hungry right now, so I wanted to fill up on rice first, and then savor your culinary skills.”

This kid really knows how to talk! Master Sullivan immediately beamed and said, “Alright, have some rice to fill your stomach first, but you’ll have to finish all these dishes later.”

Kevin Thompson leaned to the side, almost falling off his chair, inwardly crying out in distress.

Eat it all? Isn’t that going to kill me!

Chapter 0003 Withered Chrysanthemums

The next day.

Kevin Thompson stood at the head of the bridge, looking down at his reflection in the water. Although he couldn’t be called dashing, he was still quite handsome and refined. Unfortunately, he was now wearing a coarse linen robe with several small holes, making him look rather shabby.

He had come here not only having lost his wife and family, but also having fallen from a bona fide tall, rich, and handsome man to a downright poor loser. Forget about those talented beauties from the past—even the maids of noble ladies looked down on him.

It seems that no matter the era or place, losers always exist to set off the tall, rich, and handsome.

However, Kevin Thompson didn’t care at all about these sneers; in fact, he found them rather amusing. Although he wasn’t a historian, he knew quite a bit about the Song Dynasty’s history. After all, several of his few historical idols were born in the Song Dynasty. The loyal patriot Yue Fei was certainly at the top of the list, and the legendary female poet Li Qingzhao, who wrote “To the Tune of Slow, Searching and Searching,” also earned his deep admiration. Meeting these two great figures had become Kevin Thompson’s first wish upon arriving here.

The Song Dynasty had always valued literature over martial arts, and Kevin Thompson knew this well. People here loved to write, compose poetry, and show off their literary skills. But it was no wonder—there was no TV, no computers, no bars or dance halls, nothing at all. Other than writing calligraphy, composing doggerel, flirting with beauties, or visiting brothels, what else could they do?

But this year was already the fourth year of Xuanhe, that is, 1122 AD. In just four more years, the infamous “Jingkang Humiliation” in Chinese history would occur—the most humiliating and darkest moment in Han Chinese history.

When the Jin army entered the capital, the people would inevitably suffer untold misery, with families destroyed and lives lost.

Kevin Thompson thought to himself, “I really hope you can use your calligraphy brushes to stab those Jin soldiers to death, or use poetry to enlighten those savage wolves.”

Thinking of this, Kevin Thompson couldn’t help but sigh deeply. Of all times to transmigrate, why did it have to be at this critical juncture? What a damn disaster!

Damn it, Heaven, are you deliberately trying to mess with me?

The more Kevin Thompson thought about it, the angrier he became. He kicked a small stone by his foot into the river.

With a soft “plop,” ripples spread across the calm river. Amid the gentle waves, the silhouette of a woman suddenly appeared. Kevin Thompson’s expression changed dramatically as he called out, “Olivia Carter!”

Before the words had faded, the figure in the water vanished.

It turned out it was all just Kevin Thompson’s imagination. Although after a night’s rest he had mostly come to terms with things, he knew it was nearly impossible to return to 900 years in the future. Rather than wallow in self-pity, he might as well treat this as a trip—who knows, maybe he’d wake up one day and be back. After all, life is unpredictable. Still, sometimes he couldn’t help but miss his wife and parents.

Kevin Thompson sighed, shook his head, gazed into the distance, and softly began to sing Jay Chou’s Chinese-style song “Chrysanthemum Terrace.”

Your teary eyes

Fragile yet wounded

The pale crescent moon hooks onto the past

The night is too long

Condensing into frost

Who is despairing coldly in the attic

The rain gently taps

The vermilion window

My whole life is scattered on paper by the wind

Dreams are far away

Turning into a wisp of fragrance

Your image drifts away with the wind

Withered chrysanthemums, pain all over the ground

Your smile has faded

Flowers fall, hearts break

My worries quietly flow

The north wind rages, the night is not yet over

Your shadow cannot be cut

Leaving me alone

Reflected in the lake

This scene perfectly matches the song.

“What beautiful lyrics, what a wonderful melody, what a line—‘leaving me alone, reflected in the lake.’ Marvelous! Truly marvelous!” A crisp voice sounded behind Kevin Thompson, accompanied by the sound of a small fan tapping a palm, full of praise.

Kevin Thompson was so startled by the unexpected compliment that he quickly turned around, only to see a handsome young man smiling at him.

Damn! People these days walk without making a sound!