Chapter 42
Mark escorted Li Xinjun off the ship and hired a coachman with a carriage at the docks. He then instructed several burly men to help unload their luggage from the ship and place it into the carriage.
Li Xinjun, wide-eyed with excitement, observed the foreigners with their red hair and green eyes. She eagerly approached them, attempting to converse in her broken English. Although her pronunciation was peculiar, her words were understandable if one listened carefully.
She was proud of her progress over the past few months. Although not fluent, she could at least communicate basic needs. She looked at Mark with a smug grin, her chin held high. Mark, amused by her childish pride, chuckled to himself, thinking, “Fine, let her show off. As long as she stops bothering me.”
Once everything was loaded, Mark beckoned Li Xinjun to board the carriage. British carriages were different from those in the Qing Dynasty. They were more spacious, with a side door for entry and exit, unlike the rear-entry carriages of the Qing.
Inside the carriage, two rows of seats faced each other, one on each side of the door, allowing passengers to sit comfortably without touching each other while still being able to converse face-to-face.
Unlike the two-wheeled carriages of the Qing, these carriages had four wheels, providing a smoother ride. The coachman was separated from the passengers by a partition, but a small window allowed for communication when necessary.
The seats were cushioned with soft cotton padding and covered in leather, providing a comfortable ride. Li Xinjun admired the novel design of the carriage and then turned her attention to the scenery outside.
The buildings here were vastly different from those in the Qing Dynasty. The houses were smaller, with lower roofs and chimneys that emitted white smoke. Most of the houses were built from stone or mud, with only the doors made of wood. They looked sturdy and durable.
The people on the streets also dressed differently from the citizens of the Qing Dynasty. The men didn’t wear long robes, nor did they have queues or shaved foreheads. They wore trousers and shirts, their hair either short or tied back in simple ponytails.
The women didn’t wear flowing silk gowns either. Their clothes were made from heavier, thicker fabrics. Many of them wore their hair in braids or pigtails, adorned with ribbons or elaborate hats. There were no golden hairpins or ornaments like those worn by women in the Qing Dynasty. Their skirts were full and voluminous, creating a distinct silhouette.
After passing through the city, their carriage reached a small town on the outskirts. The sky was blue, the clouds fluffy, and vast meadows, resembling rice paddies but taller and greener, stretched out before them. A sweet fragrance filled the air. The coachman knocked on the window, and Li Xinjun opened it.
“Sir, the night is getting dark, do you want to spend the night here?”
“Sure, just bring us to the nearest inn you can find.”
The coachman closed the window and continued driving. Li Xinjun, understanding the gist of their conversation, didn’t ask any questions. She was focused on finding Song Ling.
The coachman drove them to a small inn in the town. He went inside to inquire about rooms and then returned, opening the carriage door for them. Li Xinjun followed Mark into the inn, which was furnished with long wooden tables and benches. A tall stone counter stood at one end, displaying an assortment of clear glass bottles filled with a golden-brown liquid.
Li Xinjun, having never seen such things before, sat down at a table with Mark, her eyes wide with curiosity. Mark ordered their meal in English. Li Xinjun didn’t understand what he was saying but assumed he was ordering food. After the waiter left, Mark turned to her.
“This place is a bit humble. The food isn’t great. I’ll take you to a better restaurant in the next city. Just make do with what they have tonight.”
“It’s fine. I’m not picky. I’ll eat anything.”
“Good.”
The waiter returned with two bowls of what looked like porridge, placing them before them. He then gave them each a wooden utensil. The utensil was strange, a long, thin wooden stick with a round, concave end, resembling a small ladle.
“What is this?”
“It’s a spoon. For eating soup.”
“This gooey stuff is soup?”
“Yes, it’s mushroom soup. Soup is usually served like this here.”
Li Xinjun watched as Mark used the wooden spoon to eat his soup. She imitated him, carefully taking a sip. Although the texture was a bit thick, the flavor was surprisingly good. The waiter then brought them a plate of warm, brown rolls.
“What are these?”
“They’re bread rolls, made from flour. Similar to the steamed buns in the Qing Dynasty, but harder. Break off a piece and dip it in your soup to soften it before eating.”
Li Xinjun, following Mark’s example, took a roll, broke off a piece, dipped it in her soup, and then ate it. The bread, initially hard and crusty, absorbed the soup, becoming soft and flavorful. It had a slightly salty taste and a unique aroma.
Li Xinjun, famished from the long journey, devoured her meal with gusto. Mark, watching the former Empress of the Qing Dynasty eat with such abandon, shook his head in amusement. He continued to eat his own meal at a more leisurely pace.
The waiter then brought them two plates of beef. Li Xinjun didn’t ask any questions this time. Although the cooking method was different from what she was used to, it was clearly meat. She was just puzzled about how to eat such a large piece of beef with a wooden spoon. As she pondered this, the waiter returned with two small knives and two small metal forks. Although she had never seen such utensils before, she wasn’t stupid. She figured out their purpose.
She confidently stabbed the beef with a fork and used the knife to cut it into smaller pieces, which she then ate with the fork.
“Wow, this beef isn’t cooked! It’s still bloody!”
“Steak doesn’t taste good if it’s fully cooked. It’s supposed to be medium-rare.”
“Really? Won’t we get sick?”
“Don’t worry, it’s safe to eat.”
“Ugh, this is so troublesome! Why can’t they just slice it up for us? It’s so much work to cut it ourselves! And so many utensils for just one meal! We can eat everything with just chopsticks! So much more convenient!”
“This isn’t China. You’ll have to get used to things here.”
“I guess you’re right. I can never go back to China. Oh well, I’ll learn to adapt to their customs.”
“And if you cut up your entire steak at once, it will get cold. You’re supposed to cut it one piece at a time to maintain its temperature and flavor.”
“Sigh, this is so complicated! So much fuss over a meal! It seems it will take me a while to get used to your way of eating.”
“This is just the basics. When we reach the general’s residence, you’ll have to learn court etiquette. It’s even more complicated. There’s a specific order for eating each dish. You can’t just eat whatever you want. You’ll embarrass General Henry.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes, really. I’ll have someone teach you etiquette later.”
Over a month passed, and Li Xinjun’s English had finally become somewhat bearable. Mark was relieved. He had managed to teach this troublesome student, at the cost of his sanity and a lot of chicken blood.
He looked around, his heart heavy with the memories of his suffering. He had swallowed countless live chickens for Li Xinjun, forced to endure her constant presence during meals. He, the mighty jiangshi king, had been reduced to this miserable state.
Sometimes, he wanted to just bite her and be done with it. But then he remembered that if he did, she would become an immortal jiangshi like him, and he immediately dismissed the thought.
They were two days away from London, where General Henry resided. London was the capital of the British Empire, equivalent to the capital of the Qing Dynasty.
It was home to all the high-ranking officials and nobles, as well as the King and Queen of England. It was also Mark’s father’s homeland. He remembered his father mentioning a castle he owned there, which he had intended for Mark to inherit.
Mark planned to return to his father’s castle after dropping off Li Xinjun and live a peaceful, anonymous life as a jiangshi. As he was lost in his fantasy, Li Xinjun appeared at his door, knocking loudly.
He looked at the blood-drained chicken carcass in his hand, despair washing over him. Li Xinjun, unaware of his suffering, continued to knock, afraid that he might oversleep and delay their departure.
“Mark! Mark! Wake up! We’re leaving! Come out! If you don’t come out, I’m coming in!”
Li Xinjun, oblivious to Mark’s misery, continued to pound on the door. Mark silently cursed her, vowing to never see her again after they reached London. He resigned himself to his fate, forcing down the raw chicken, feathers, head, and feet included.
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