“Fame and fortune? What’s that?—Oh—I get it,” Kevin Thompson shook his head and said, “No, I haven’t earned any titles. The only exam I’ve taken is the college entrance exam.”

“College entrance exam?” Henry Clark asked in confusion.

“Uh… well… the college entrance exam is… it’s… oh, right, it’s the entrance test we have before attending private school in my hometown. Only the kids who pass can go in and study. Heh, pretty harsh, isn’t it?”

After speaking, Kevin Thompson let out a gentle sigh. Clearly, they weren’t from the same era—it was really hard to communicate!

Henry Clark put on a look of forced understanding and said, “I see that Brother Thompson is so talented in literature. Why not go take the imperial exams?”

“Why should I take them?” Kevin Thompson asked, puzzled.

“Of course, to serve the emperor loyally and contribute to the court!” Henry Clark said urgently. It was the first time he’d ever heard someone question why one should take the imperial exams.

“Serve the emperor? NONONO.” Kevin Thompson shook his head vigorously. Asking him to serve that muddle-headed Emperor Huizong of Song was even harder to accept than being killed.

“No?” Henry Clark looked at Kevin Thompson with a questioning gaze.

“Uh… NO means—not going.” Kevin Thompson explained, sweating nervously.

“Why not? Just now, when I heard Brother Thompson’s ‘Chrysanthemum Withers,’ I could feel your concern for the country and its people. Do you want to join the army? Or is there something you can’t say?” Henry Clark raised his eyebrows and asked.

What? How come I don’t know about this? Isn’t that old buddy from the 21st century? How could he write lyrics worrying about your Song Dynasty? Truly bizarre.

Kevin Thompson was quite confused and shook his head, saying, “I think you must have misunderstood. I’m not as great as you say. That poem and song were just written to express my longing, nothing more.”

“Brother Thompson, you’re too modest. Though my literary skills can’t compare to yours, I can still hear the meaning in ‘the northern wind is chaotic, the night is not yet over.’” Henry Clark cupped his hands, admiration showing on his face.

When Kevin Thompson heard this, he suddenly understood. Right now, the Song, Liao, and Jin are at war in the north, so Henry Clark thought the line “the northern wind is chaotic, the night is not yet over” was alluding to the war up north.

Kevin Thompson found it amusing—your literary skills really aren’t that great. But he didn’t bother to explain further and said bluntly, “I won’t join the army, nor will I take any imperial exams. To put it plainly, I just don’t want to work for that muddle-headed emperor.”

Muddle-headed emperor!

A single stone stirred up a thousand waves!

Henry Clark’s expression changed dramatically, his eyes glaring at Kevin Thompson, his face burning with rage. Before he could speak, the servant beside him couldn’t hold back, jumped out, pointed at Kevin Thompson’s nose, and shouted, “How dare you! You’re just a commoner, yet you dare to utter such treasonous words!”

But Kevin Thompson had come from the 21st century, an era that valued freedom of speech, so he didn’t care at all. Seeing how rude this servant was, he sneered and said, “I’m talking to your master. Who are you to butt in? You really have no manners.”

“You—!”

The servant’s face turned bright red with anger and was about to say more, but Henry Clark shot him a sidelong glance. The servant snorted and obediently stepped aside.

Henry Clark narrowed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and said coldly, “His Majesty is in his prime, excelling in both civil and military affairs, governing with diligence. Now that he has sent troops to Yanjing, I believe it won’t be long before we reclaim the Sixteen Prefectures of Yanyun. This is an achievement for the ages. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear what you just said, but I hope Brother Thompson will refrain from such reckless talk.”

Damn it, I’m the one talking nonsense?

As soon as Kevin Thompson heard about the Sixteen Prefectures of Yanyun, his eyes blazed with anger. The history books clearly recorded that in the fourth year of Xuanhe, Emperor Huizong of Song sent that treacherous official Tong Guan with 150,000 troops to attack Yanjing, only to be nearly wiped out by 10,000 Liao soldiers.

And that wasn’t the end—later, Tong Guan recruited another 150,000 troops, but was routed by just 7,000 enemy soldiers, fleeing in disarray. Three hundred thousand troops in total! Even an idiot couldn’t lose that badly! In the end, they had to spend a fortune in gold, silver, and women to beg the Jin to help, and only then did they recover the Sixteen Prefectures of Yanyun—but they were just a few empty cities. The people, livestock, and treasures had long been looted by the Jin.

Civil and military excellence, diligent governance—my ass!

People always say the ancient commoners were ignorant. Seeing it today, it’s truly well-deserved.

Kevin Thompson didn’t want to argue with him about this. History would prove him right sooner or later. He sighed and said, “Since you have so much faith in that old emperor, I have nothing more to say. But let me remind you: the greater the hope, the greater the disappointment. If you want to rely on that so-called damn emperor, heh, all I can say to you is…” At this point, Kevin Thompson, as if possessed, opened his arms and gave Henry Clark a very polite hug, even patting him gently on the back and saying, “GOODLUCK!”

Huh? What’s that wonderful smell?

As soon as he finished speaking, Kevin Thompson suddenly caught a whiff of a fresh fragrance, like perfume but not quite. One thing was certain—the scent was coming from Henry Clark.

What exactly is that smell?

Could it be—maybe—