Chapter Ten: Fewer Side Jobs, A Comprehensive Guide to the Faces of the Multitudes

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At dusk, the fiery sun painted the western sky with a crimson glow, casting the day's last light upon the world and illuminating the myriad forms of life. The room was dim, its door tightly closed, but Han Fu had not lit a lamp. Several history books lay on the table, all procured by Bai Li Mingda through earnest effort. When Han Fu requested reading material, Bai Li Mingda agreed wholeheartedly and quickly returned with the books in hand. To ensure he would not be disturbed and to grant him some privacy, Bai Li Mingda, who had intended to accompany him in his studies, was politely asked to leave.

The Xu Dynasty, in which Han Fu now found himself, was unlike any era from his previous life and could not be precisely matched to any historical period. For instance, the Xu Dynasty now had tables and chairs, yet no stir-fried dishes, and certain crops that had been introduced to the Han Dynasty from the Western Regions in his former world were absent here. Therefore, Han Fu's first priority was to understand the history of this time and place, so he could acquire as much information as possible.

However, though the books were arranged before him, Han Fu did not immediately begin reading. Instead, he pondered in his heart just how many skills and pieces of knowledge from his previous life he, as a traveler from another world, could actually rely upon. He dared not write them down for fear of discovery and interrogation, so he merely took stock in silence.

In his previous life, Han Fu had read many novels about protagonists who perished and found their souls transported to ancient times. In those stories, the protagonists always seemed to thrive effortlessly, often blessed with golden fingers—magical advantages that allowed them to dominate in any field. And the methods provided by these golden fingers rarely changed: the three-piece cavalry set, glassmaking, papermaking, movable type printing, mineral salt refining, smallpox inoculation, surgical stitching paired with high-proof distilled spirits, stir-frying, curved-shaft plows, steelmaking, saltpeter ice-making, soap, gunpowder, and so on.

Undoubtedly, if Han Fu possessed these skills, even a little ingenuity would guarantee smooth sailing. But the reality was... he had no golden finger. He had grown up in a rural village, and although he had seen a curved-shaft plow and could probably puzzle out its workings if necessary, that was about it. Since arriving in this world, he had noticed that the Xu Dynasty had yet to develop the three-piece cavalry equipment—current cavalry gear seemed akin to that of the Wei and Jin dynasties. But since such equipment was strategic-level material, it could not be revealed lightly, lest he be accused of aiding the enemy.

He was not foolish enough to do something so reckless. As for glassmaking... he had no idea beyond knowing it was made from sand, and the precise mixture would require a craftsman's tireless experimentation. Advanced papermaking... he did not know. Movable type printing was a vague concept; he had no idea what materials to use for type. Mineral salt refining—well, he wasn't even sure what kind of salt people in the Xu Dynasty consumed, so that could wait.

As for the rest, he knew some in theory, others only as general ideas. Steelmaking and soap were completely beyond him... Suddenly, Han Fu felt a pang of regret.

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If only he had known he would one day traverse worlds, he would have taken up more part-time jobs in his previous life, even without a golden finger. He remembered how, in some novels, the protagonist lacked any supernatural aid but still knew how to do everything, with the author always explaining it away as experience from past part-time jobs.

Han Fu knew that, for now, his only assets were his extensive reading in his former life and his barely passable calligraphy. The calligraphy might be mediocre, but he had studied the Liu style, a script unknown in the Xu Dynasty; with diligent practice, he could establish his own school. With his store of poems and essays and his mastery of the Liu style, Han Fu believed he could secure his place among the literati.

It was true what they said: scholars rarely succeeded in rebellion, even after ten years. Yet their social status and influence could not be dismissed.

As for other methods, he could not display them too soon, for his ambition was not to be a wealthy landowner content in obscurity, nor merely a titled marquis or minister—it was the throne itself he sought. Having traveled through time, if he did not become emperor, would he not be letting down his parents? At this thought, Han Fu was struck by a sudden melancholy.

"Father, Mother, your son is unfilial, unable to stay by your side and care for you in your old age. But rest assured, I will ensure the Han family’s bloodline shines gloriously in this world!" Grief swept over him, but it could not shake his resolve.

Suddenly, he frowned and fell into thought. "It seems my DNA has changed. I wonder if I still count as a Han..."

This was a problem straddling biology and theology, and Han Fu could not work it out, so he let it go. What did it matter? That was a concern for another day.

For now, he ought to read. To conquer this world, he must first understand its history.

Starting from the earliest records of civilization, Han Fu quickly became absorbed, to the extent that even when Ping’er knocked at the door and, receiving no response, finally walked in, he did not notice.

By rights, since Bai Li Mingsu had moved to another courtyard, Ping’er, as her personal maid, should have followed. But Bai Li Mingsu had left her behind, ostensibly to look after Han Fu, though her true intentions lay elsewhere: three days of observation to see what sort of person Han Fu truly was.

The young maid found her task daunting, for she had never done such a thing and felt quite at a loss. That afternoon, something Bai Li Mingda had said had embarrassed her so much that she only dared come out now, as it was time for dinner.

As for why Bai Li Mingda was so attentive to Han Fu, Ping’er had no desire to guess. In her mind, that master was unpredictable, alternately friendly and distant, making him impossible to figure out.

Carrying a tray with two dishes and a bowl of rice—one meat, one vegetable—Ping’er was surprised to see Han Fu so engrossed in his reading.

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Such a diligent future son-in-law... not bad at all, Ping’er thought as she set the tray on the table. “Gu—” she began, then stopped herself. The young maid realized that since her mistress and Han Fu were not yet married, she could not yet change how she addressed him.

“Sir, it’s time to eat,” Ping’er said.

Only then did Han Fu awaken from his reverie. He smiled slightly and was about to speak when Bai Li Mingda’s voice sounded at the door.

“Don’t call him ‘sir’—call him ‘son-in-law.’ Ming Su and he will be married in just a few days; what’s three days more?” Bai Li Mingda came in, carrying a tray, and set it down with a wide grin. “Brother-in-law, let’s eat together—it’s good to have company.”

Then he glanced at Ping’er and added, “Remember, call him ‘son-in-law.’ Or, since you’re Ming Su’s dowry maid, you could even call him ‘husband’ or ‘dear’ ahead of time.”

As expected, Ping’er’s cheeks turned as red as apples.

“I’ll come back to tidy up later,” she managed, and with that, the little maid turned and fled.

Han Fu found the scene amusing and couldn’t help but smile, asking, “Is this how you usually tease Ping’er, brother?”

“What teasing?” Bai Li Mingda replied with feigned seriousness. “I’m quite sincere. She’s your personal maid now—no harm in calling you ‘husband’ a bit early.”

Han Fu was thoroughly confused. Why did it feel like this was his own brother, not Bai Li Ming Su’s? Though Han Fu didn’t mind his status as a live-in son-in-law, having such a good brother-in-law was still a puzzle.

Bai Li Mingda saw Han Fu’s perplexed expression and realized he was being a bit too enthusiastic. He hurriedly shoveled food into his mouth and mumbled, “The food’s good today, brother-in-law—eat up! Haha... Don’t look at me like that. We’ll be family soon; it’s only right I treat you well, yes... very right...”

To change the subject, he pulled a book from his sleeve. “You love reading, and so do I. After dinner, let’s burn the midnight oil together.”

Han Fu glanced at the cover and saw, emblazoned in bold characters, “A Comprehensive Guide to the Faces of All Living Beings!”

His heart skipped a beat—so Bai Li Mingda had indeed noticed something. He would never have guessed that, while Bai Li Ming Su was famed far and wide, her brother, though less renowned, was also a person of remarkable insight.

Surely not... Han Fu lowered his head and ate, betraying nothing. “Very well,” he replied.

Meanwhile, at the Qin residence.

General Qin Zhaoning, known for her formidable presence in the army, returned home with her younger brother, Qin Weitai, after a long stint on duty.