The most artistically gifted thief in history has arrived in the fourth year of Emperor Huizong of the Northern Song Dynasty.

As a servant in the Duke of Qi's household, Adam Sullivan is quite content. Knowledge changes fate, intelligence determines the future—everything else is fleeting. Watch as I cover the sky with one hand.

He plays with art and speaks of taste. He forges the finest masterpieces, writes the most beautiful calligraphy, and never follows the beaten path—being able to bluff is the true way.

He enters the Imperial Academy, sits for the imperial exams, rises from a humble farmer in the morning to the emperor’s hall by night. High Qiu, Cai Jing, and the like are all outdated. To see who truly stirs the winds and clouds, look to the present.

Chapter One: The Strongest Art Thief in History

“We interrupt with breaking news.” On the TV, the anchor’s voice was smooth and pleasant, her face smiling. The screen then switched to show a well-dressed man appearing before the viewers.

“The famous art thief Adam Sullivan fell to his death today while fleeing from Interpol. Authorities have organized a search at the scene and have found related belongings, but the body has not yet been recovered.”

“Let’s review Adam Sullivan’s criminal history. In 2001, Adam Sullivan forged the Ming and Qing era masterpiece ‘The Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove Porcelain’ and profited seventy million yuan. After that, the suspect committed a spree of crimes, stealing the painting ‘Spanish Castle’ worth seven million dollars from a Dutch museum.

In 2003, the suspect forged one of Van Gogh’s most valuable works, ‘Sunflowers,’ and successfully sold it to an international collector for 140 million dollars. In 2006, the suspect forged ‘Along the River During the Qingming Festival’ and attempted to sell it, but was foiled by international authorities. The suspect has been on the run ever since.

During his escape, he repeatedly forged and sold famous paintings and antiques, committing numerous acts of fraud and theft, and illegally obtained dozens of masterpieces and antiques from various eras.

Interpol raised the wanted level to a red notice, offering a million-dollar reward for information on the suspect’s whereabouts. After five years, the suspect has finally been brought to justice.”

The TV screen switched to the edge of a cliff, where police in various uniforms, sharply dressed detectives, and military police had set up a cordon. Helicopters hovered overhead, and someone was lowering a cable, attempting to search below the cliff.

“We will continue to follow up on this case. Next, we bring you the latest news from Kenya…”

……

Spring waters, peach blossoms, pleasure boats. Intertwined along the shores of Ruoshui Lake in spring, the lake’s surface shimmered gently, as calm as a maiden. Bathed in sunlight along the shore, the painted boats on the river exuded the fragrance of peach blossoms.

On one such boat, several young gentlemen in their prime laughed heartily.

“I’m feeling inspired—let me recite a poem to liven things up.”

A short, chubby young man with a pockmarked face beamed as he laughed heartily, folding his arms and reciting, “A flock of ducks by the river, quack quack quack quack quack. I stand by the river’s edge, and the ducks scatter, quacking away.”

“Excellent poem!” Two other young men at the table slapped the table in excitement, their admiration overflowing. The tall, thin one nearly prostrated himself in worship, while the short one’s eyes sparkled. They exclaimed, “Young Master Clark’s paintings are superb, but his poetic talent is unmatched. Such a fine poem is hard to find anywhere in the world.”

“I heard that the Princess of Qinghe loves talented men most. If Young Master Clark presents this poem to her, surely he’ll win her heart?”

“Hahaha…” The short, chubby Young Master Clark laughed heartily, his pride hidden beneath a veneer of modesty, his modesty tinged with arrogance, and his arrogance tempered by restraint. He sat down and said, “You flatter me, gentlemen. My poetry is still a bit lacking compared to Li Bai and Du Fu.”

Under the willows on the shore, several young servants waited quietly. One handsome servant spat on the ground: “Pah!”

Doggerel like that is bad enough, but to have to serve a bunch of shameless young masters who flatter each other—Adam Sullivan felt like banging his head against a wall.

Adam Sullivan was not dead. On the day he was chased by the police, there was a vast sea beneath the cliff, and Adam Sullivan had already set up a life-saving device in the water. His plan was simple: fake his death so Interpol would believe he was gone, then change his identity and start his thieving career anew.

But something went wrong with that jump. For reasons unknown, he found himself in a new identity, now a menial servant in the The Clark Residence, the Duke of Qi’s household in Bianjing, the capital, in the fourth year of Xuanhe of the Northern Song.

He had traveled through time, and the result was a bit disappointing—a lowly servant with no status.

His contract of servitude was still held by the The Clark Residence, meaning he had no personal freedom. If he left the The Clark Residence without permission, the authorities could arrest him, tattoo his forehead, and exile him to the border garrisons.

As a master thief, Adam Sullivan naturally had many ways to start a new life. But he was unfamiliar with this place, and simply escaping the The Clark Residence only to be hunted by the authorities didn’t seem worth it. So, he had to keep working as a servant for now.

The best way out was to find a way to earn some money and buy his freedom.

Having already “died” once, Adam Sullivan was long tired of life on the run. He wanted a fresh start and wouldn’t resort to drastic measures unless absolutely necessary.

Besides, life as a servant wasn’t so bad. Though it was hard work, the The Clark Residence was full of young ladies and maids, all of above-average beauty—just to Adam Sullivan’s taste.