The nib of the quill scratched across the paper:
"She really is beautiful. Even I, who have looked all over Douyin, have to admit she has a kind of refinement that is hard to explain by features or figure alone.
"But that is not what I truly want to say.
"In the week since I transmigrated into this world, the women I have seen most are the maids at home. They are diligent and restrained, and when they speak in front of me they always lower their heads without thinking. Next are the noblewomen in my memories, such as my mother, Ailinuo...
"Xialuote is different from all of them. She is polite, of course, and she knows how far to go when she speaks, but beneath that politeness is an initiative that is hard to ignore—or rather, a rebelliousness. She is not used to obediently waiting for her father, or some reliable man, to decide everything for her. Tuesday was the best example.
"When she heard that Gelin and I were going to look at the printing plant, she immediately said she wanted to come along. Had it been one of those noble young ladies in my memories, even if she were truly interested, her first reaction would have been to hesitate: worrying whether going out with two young men would draw gossip, worrying whether her father would agree, worrying whether the dust and grease of the factory would soil the hem of her skirt.
"But Xialuote had nothing in her eyes but curiosity and excitement."
Luosaier paused there, then dipped the pen in the ink again.
"And that beggar outside the printing plant. Although it later proved he was an attacker who had approached us with a plan, no one knew that at the time. Xialuote's first reaction really was distaste, but I could tell it was only because of the stench and the filth, not because of who he was."
"If that beggar had been standing in front of me then, I could not have met him with composure... I could not have done it before transmigration, either.
"All of that was a minor episode. What truly held my attention was what happened afterward.
"The attacker disguised as a beggar was so fast he hardly seemed human. Gelin and I have had military training, and our coordination is decent enough, yet he still overpowered us several times, and in the end we let him get away. The other one in black who stopped Xialuote was probably no ordinary fighter either. If people from the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun had not arrived, the consequences would likely have been grave.
"But Xialuote clearly concealed some secret connected to the Church. The explanation she gave was very vague, and she did not look as panic-stricken as an ordinary noble girl. That black-robed woman looked as if she had been splashed with some liquid like strong acid, yet there was not the slightest strange smell in the storeroom—and then there was that instant of eerie light...
"Of course, the Church's people were right there, and Gelin had been badly frightened. It was not a good time to press for reasons.
"But I am certain of this: the side of this world that hides in the shadows is about to have one corner of it uncovered before my eyes."
When he had written this far, Luosaier slowly let out a breath and leaned back against the chair.
He had only meant to record the morning's visit to Gelin's house. He had not expected to write so much about Xialuote.
A pretty face ruins a man. Luosaier—no, Huang Tao—you are a man with great things to do.
He grumbled once to himself, lowered his head, and went on:
"Father says there will be a noble hunt next week. Quite a few of the local nobles of Suxite will attend, and they will bring their young sons and daughters.
"This may be an opportunity.
"I need to find a moment to speak with Xialuote alone and get something out of her. The problem is that Baron Suolun clearly treasures this daughter. After these two incidents, he may not readily let her out of his sight.
"Speaking of which, I suddenly miss home a little.
"If the old man and Mom knew I was being waited on like a young master in another world, they would probably scold me first, then ask whether I had any way to get home.
"I always find them annoying on ordinary days, but when it truly comes to a time like this, the first people I think of are still them.
"Enough. Let the sentimentality stop here, and back to business.
"There is still far too much to prepare for the plan to publish a newspaper. The printing press we have is not suited to dense small print. If I really want to draw readers, it would be best to have pictures as well as text... but the price cannot be too high, or ordinary townspeople will not buy it.
"Suxite is a textile city, so there is no lack of raw material for paper. But if we later expand to other cities, the supply of raw material will become a serious problem. That calls for improving the papermaking process. I know the general direction, yet I cannot recall the specific method.
"Damn it. Why didn't I memorize more useful material before I transmigrated? Why do I remember gacha rates and every rotten meme, but not how paper pulp is actually supposed to be handled?
"Still, Xialuote could pick up my small-newspaper idea at once, and even thought of the publication permit and the matter of a guarantor. That shows she is sharp about this as well. Perhaps she can be of some help?
"Wait. How have I written my way back to Xialuote again?
"Woman, you are going to affect the speed at which I make money."
After the last line, Luosaier stared at the page for a few seconds, then closed the notebook.
He leaned all the way back, slumped in the chair, and gazed blankly for a while at the rather showy ceiling overhead.
He suddenly found himself looking forward to next week's hunt.
————
Kangsidun City, in the bedroom of an apartment near the factory district.
Another hand, rather thin, gripped a quill and wrote slowly across an open notebook.
It was Chinese as well, square and upright, each character standing apart. But the handwriting was neater, and the spacing between lines more even, as if the writer had already set down the order of every point to be recorded before setting pen to paper:
"February 22, 1143. This is my first diary entry in this world. I will write in Chinese, which only I understand, rather than in the Luen script this body knows better.
"I am doing this for two reasons. First, to keep myself from gradually forgetting my original language and identity after staying too long in this unfamiliar world. Second, if I should one day have the misfortune to die, this will be a precious record left by me, a man of the Foodie Empire.
"...Provided the person who finds the notebook can read Chinese. Then he or she is my fellow countryman.
"Hello, fellow countryman. I am Zhou Mingrui. Of course, the name I am using now is Kelai'en Yabolahan.
"After a week of sorting things out, I have more or less figured out what happened to the original Kelai'en. From the notebook his parents left behind, he discovered a potion formula. After many setbacks he gathered the materials, and, under the influence of the notebook's repeated mention of 'mind the full moon,' he believed that on the night of the full moon spirituality was abundant, and the gap between reality and the spirit world was at its thinnest, fit for taking a potion.
"There must have been a serious flaw in his thinking. Otherwise it would never have come to me waking in the basement and watching the wounds on my body heal at speed, as if time were running backward.
"And precisely because of that, I became an Extraordinary, a Sequence 9 'Apprentice,' and inherited everything that was Kelai'en's."
Here Zhou Mingrui—or rather, Kelai'en Yabolahan—paused. His gaze moved from the page to his surroundings.
The room was reasonably spacious. The desk stood on the side by the window; to either side were a single bed and a cabinet holding a few changes of clothes. Outside the window one could see the gray-white roofs of the factories, and the coastline in the distance.
He lowered his head again and went on writing:
"From what I have tried, the abilities of an 'Apprentice' are quite interesting. I can open most doors and locks at will, and I can also pass straight through walls, floors, or similar barriers. Of course, the ability is not unlimited. Something as thick as a city wall cannot be passed through, nor can I slip through sideways and cross the whole thickness of a thick wall. Otherwise I could probably already have become the hardest thief to catch in this city by walking through walls.
"By comparison, certain pathways mentioned in the notebook—for example, 'Warrior'—seem to me closer to Popeye. They may be more reliable in an actual fight, but an ordinary person can manage the same after training. It is not so far beyond the ordinary as an 'Apprentice.'"
At this, the corner of Kelai'en's mouth moved slightly, then quickly grew calm again.
"Next are the plans ahead. As a transmigrator, being alone may be safest. At least I would not have to explain too many changes in character, or worry about acquaintances spotting a flaw. But I have not given up the possibility of going home... If I want to go further in mysticism, the notebook left by my parents is far from enough. I must contact the other members of the Yabolahan family and find out why this family lives scattered apart, and why they only record knowledge of mysticism instead of trying to obtain more power.
"In the memories, there is only one other Yabolahan household in Kangsidun City that kept up intermittent contact with the original body. Before I seek them out, I must first confirm whether they are reliable. I must also avoid revealing that I am not the original Kelai'en, and still less can I reveal that I am a transmigrator.
"Then there is that space shrouded in gray fog.
"Using the fortune-turning ritual I had performed before transmigrating, I sent my spirit body into a mysterious gray fog. It lies outside reality, and yet it can form a connection with reality.
"The first time I entered, two other people appeared at the same time. I could not be sure of the situation then, and I did not know what relationship that gray fog actually had with me, so I could only take the steadiest course: pretend I was a victim the same as they were, blend into the conversation as best I could, and watch how they reacted."
Recalling the man and the woman upon that gray fog who had met with something similar to himself, the quill in Kelai'en's hand paused for a few seconds. Then he continued:
"The benefit of this choice is that I gained a measure of their trust at the start, learned why they entered the gray fog, and was not found out by them to be different.
"But the drawback is just as plain. When I later tried to enter the gray fog again, I found that the space seemed able, to some extent, to answer my requests, and could even take the initiative to pull them back into that space. In other words, by disguising myself earlier as an ordinary person who had stumbled in by mistake, I instead gave up my greatest advantage.
"This mistake can be made good, but it will have to be designed anew. I must wait until I am familiar with the world of mysticism and understand that gray fog better.
"Perhaps I can be their companion, and at the same time disguise myself as the lofty master of the gray fog, and thus use their channels, knowledge, and resources to find out what this world truly is.
"This will probably require me to further hone the ability of the 'Apprentice.'
"Or rather, acting..."
He set down the quill, stared for a while at that last word, and slowly closed the diary notebook.
He did not put the notebook back in the drawer, nor hide it under the bed. Holding it, he rose from beside the desk, came to the wall, extended his right hand, and slowly pressed the diary notebook against the wall beside him.
The pages and the cover did not strike the wall. They sank into it as if entering the surface of water, and at last disappeared inside the wall.
Once he was sure the notebook was hidden, he drew his arm back as if leaving the water, patted at dust that was not there, picked up his coat, and left the bedroom.
Chapter 22