“Nothing… it’s just, I actually don’t remember this at all, it’s so strange…” I tried my best to force a smile. Something bestowed by a national leader, a national treasure, and he pawned it for wine… I almost wanted to slap Chris Brooks twice. My hand was already raised, but forget it, hitting myself now would just hurt.

“It’s all your father’s fault, Chris, don’t be afraid, as long as your mother is here, if he dares lay a hand on you again, I’ll fight him to the death. I only have you three sons—if I lose even one, I won’t go on living…” Madam Foster, known as the most jealous woman of the Tang Dynasty, wife of John Brooks, and my mother standing before me, really lives up to her reputation.

“No… your son really was out of line before, father was right to hit me…” That was the truth. Faced with such an unfilial son, a beating is getting off easy. If I had a son like that, I’d probably just take a knife and chop him up for dumpling filling to vent my anger.

“Don’t say that, as long as I’m here, what are you afraid of… Alright, hurry and drink your medicine. This is a prescription I had your father ask the imperial physician for. Be good, open your mouth…” Madam Foster took the medicine bowl from the maid and brought it to my lips, looking like she was about to feed me again.

“Mother, let me do it myself, I can move now…” My eyes felt a bit hot; I hadn’t felt this way in years. Calling her ‘mother’ still felt a bit… awkward, after all, the Madam Foster before me wasn’t my real mother from over a thousand years in the future. But the doting look in her eyes for me—no, for Chris Brooks—even made me a little jealous of this spoiled brat whose body I now inhabited. It seemed clear that the making of a wastrel was due to having such an overly doting elder.

Chapter 2: First Meeting with King Jackson?

The medicine was still steaming, and amidst the bitterness, there was a hint of sweetness. It looked like Madam Foster had specially added some honey.

“Thank you, mother…” Since I’m here, I might as well play the role. I didn’t want to make this motherly figure sad, even if she was a formidable woman who made it into the history books for her jealousy. In our era, she’d be a great female chauvinist, a spokesperson for female supremacy. But above all, she was a mother, a mother who doted on her son, a mother whose world revolved around her children. Over these past few days, I finally understood why Chris Brooks became such an outrageous wastrel—it was all because of this woman before me. If I said I wanted to climb onto the roof and tear off the tiles, Madam Foster would definitely set up a ladder for me. If I wanted to rob people on Chang’an Avenue with a mask, Madam Foster would surely prepare a sharpened long knife and cut a black scarf for me to cover my face.

“Mother… I’m really fine now.” The word ‘mother’ was starting to come more naturally. I stood up. The Tang Dynasty had its downsides—mainly, there were no chairs, only those little backless stools, or you had to kneel on a low couch. For someone used to high-backed chairs like me, my legs were starting to go numb. If I knelt any longer, I’d definitely get a cramp.

“Chris, if you ever need money again, just come to me. Don’t do such foolish things. Even though a jade ruyi isn’t a big deal, it was a gift from His Majesty to your father…” Madam Foster stood up too, holding my hand and speaking softly, her eyes full of motherly love fixed on me.

“Mm, okay, your son knows he was wrong…” I’m not the muscle-brained Chris Brooks, I’m a modern young man with independent thought, deeply versed in the Eight Honors and Eight Shames of socialism, who has traveled through time (emphatically: not by choice).

“Good, good, good… You really are my child. Henry Brooks, look how sensible the second young master is.” Madam Foster cupped my face, lifting my chin to look at me, her face full of pride.

“Yes… the second young master really is remarkable…” The old man’s face twisted a bit, like he had a stomach cramp. Since when did I develop a hobby of observing people’s expressions? Weird. “Madam, madam…” A servant came running over in a hurry.

“What’s all this fuss? Where are your manners?” Madam Foster seemed to transform instantly from a loving mother to the matriarch of a great noble house, leaving me stunned. What an actress.

“Please forgive me, madam, but His Highness King Jackson has come to visit young master Chris… He’s already waiting in the front hall.” The servant said nervously.

“Who?!” I was a bit dazed. King Jackson—do I know him?

“His Majesty’s third son, King JacksonEdward Lincoln. Chris, when you go over, be careful. Even though you’ve had a bout of hysteria, don’t be too unruly in front of His Highness.” Madam Foster looked a bit uneasy, holding my hand and whispering a reminder.

“Alright, I understand.” I replied, but my mind was still foggy. King JacksonDavid Lincoln—I seemed to vaguely remember hearing this name in a TV drama. The ending was… damn!… I think Chris Brooks was executed because of this rebel. My mind was a mess, and in a daze, I followed the servant toward the front courtyard…

…