Goodbye Hooke

Three days later.

At noon.

Clatter, clatter—

A hay wagon trundled southeast along a road four or five meters wide, built to a much higher standard than an ordinary packed-earth road.

Its joints creaked like an old, battered harmonica, singing of the hardships of life.

Besides a good supply of potatoes and vegetables, three men were also riding in the back of the wagon.

The one leading them was middle-aged; the other two were young men. One had black hair and dark eyes. They were Little Ox, Xu Yun, and William.

Three days earlier, after receiving seven guineas from Pastor Yarlin, William's family had been relatively flush with cash. First, they spent ten shillings on daily necessities and food, then enjoyed their first proper feast in a year.

After resting for a day, they found a hay wagon heading their way that morning and set off for Lincoln, the county town of Lincolnshire.

A "county" was Britain's second-level administrative division, and counties were divided into ceremonial and metropolitan counties.

In 1665, there were twenty-seven of the former and only four of the latter. By the 21st Century, those numbers would rise to thirty-four and six.

Lincolnshire was a standard ceremonial county. A lord lieutenant representing the British Crown, but wielding no real authority, was stationed there. The county had little more than a geographical designation and a few functions, such as coordinating local civil affairs.

Lincoln was Lincolnshire's county town—a very, very small city by the standards of its home country. It was so small that you might not even find it in a search unless you added "Britain" to the name.

The hay wagon continued on under the midday sun. After a little over half an hour, the driver pulled up the horse.

"Gentlemen, we've reached Lincoln."

At that, Xu Yun and the others exchanged a glance and slowly got to their feet.

They dusted off the potato grime on their clothes, picked up their bundles, and climbed down from the wagon with easy efficiency.

William then walked up to the front and took a small piece of dried meat from his pocket.

"Mr. Wenger, this venison is the fare we agreed on. Thank you for the ride."

The driver, Mr. Wenger, was a skinny old man with darkish skin. He took the meat from William, opened his mouth, and showed a row of yellow teeth.

"Mr. William, you're too kind. Shall we meet here again tonight?"

William nodded.

"See you tonight."

After settling things with the driver, William turned and beckoned to the other two.

"All right, Isaac, Mr. Fat Fish. Let's head into town."

Fat Fish and Little Ox answered together and followed William toward the entrance.

In 1665 Britain, people entering a city on foot didn't have to pay an entry tax. But if you owned a house in the city, you had to pay a "hearth tax."

Then there were cargo wagons arriving from far away, like Mr. Wenger's. Empty wagons paid nothing, but those carrying goods were stopped.

They'd be told their cargo wasn't permitted, and then they'd have no choice but to pay.

Xu Yun and the others didn't have to worry about an entry tax, so they walked into Lincoln without trouble.

Lincoln's main urban area had a population of about forty to fifty thousand. By the standards of Europe at the time, that wasn't particularly large, but it wasn't small either. Back in their homeland, it was the fourth year of the Kangxi reign in the Qing Dynasty, and the combined population of the two Hu provinces was only a little over five hundred thousand.

Lincoln's buildings were also much grander than those in the little town of Grantham. Landmarks like the opera house and restaurants stood out at once.

If you looked closely, you might even catch sight of wealthy people in fine clothes riding past in carriages.

In short, here in the county town, you could feel a little of the seventeenth-century aristocratic atmosphere.

Of course, the two tallest buildings were still the clock tower and the church.

After entering the city, William looked around and led Little Ox and Xu Yun to an elegant inn.

"Little Isaac, Mr. Fat Fish, this place is easy to recognize. Let's make it our meeting point and meet here again in three hours. All right?"

Xu Yun and Little Ox nodded together.

"Sounds good, Uncle." "Sounds good, Mr. William."

Then they went their separate ways.

William had come to Lincoln to buy sugar. Although he had granted Yarlin the rights to make ketchup, he and his family couldn't afford to leave themselves without any backup. Making some ketchup of their own, just in case, was the best choice.

And ketchup, of course, required sugar.

Because of differences in supply and transportation costs, the price of sugar varied between British towns, county towns, and even the capital. It was cheapest in the county town, while prices fluctuated more in the smaller towns.

On top of that, William intended to buy at least three guineas' worth. A tiny town like Grantham, with a population of only a thousand, was far too unsafe for such a purchase.

The British understood the wisdom of not flaunting one's wealth.

As for why Xu Yun and Little Ox had come to Lincoln, there was only one reason:

To find Hooke.

"Song of Songs Inn, southwest of the city."

After parting from William, Xu Yun and Little Ox followed the address Hooke had left them and finally stopped outside another three-story building.

It stood in a wealthy neighborhood southwest of the city, where the streets were relatively clean. At least, people weren't liable to come along with a bucket and dump a huge load of crap right beside you as you walked.

A cross at the top of the facade marked the building as church property, making it an officially run establishment.

Beneath the cross hung a plaque bearing the Hebrew words for "Song of Songs."

"Song of Songs Inn. This must be the place."

In this era, inns had no doormen, and their so-called "lobby" was only twenty or thirty square meters. Little Ox and Xu Yun reached the front desk without trouble.

"Hello. Is Mr. Robert Hooke staying here?"

The man behind the desk was a short, stout middle-aged fellow with a small goatee. He glanced up at the two of them.

"Mr. Hooke? He is staying here. What do you want with him?"

Certain that Hooke was there, Little Ox clenched the hand hidden in his sleeve a little tighter.

"We have an appointment. Could you let him know we're here?

Tell him Isaac Newton, a student of Barrow's, would like to see him."

The stout man put down his pen and studied the two of them more carefully. A hint of hesitation crossed his face.

It was noon. Without knowing whether the guest was taking a nap, he had to weigh the risk of a complaint. This was church property, and he was only a hired hand with a little authority—something like a front desk manager.

As one of Lincoln's top hotels, it had seen plenty of people who had learned a guest's name through one channel or another and wanted either money or a connection.

After a dozen seconds or so, the stout man finally made up his mind.

He picked up a pen, wrote a short note on a piece of paper, and handed it to Little Ox.

"Barrow and Isaac Newton. Is this how you spell those names?"

Little Ox took the paper, read it over, and nodded.

"That's right."

The stout man took it back, slipped it into a little basket beside him, then tugged another cord.

A moment later, someone answered from the second floor.

A person above pulled on a rope, slowly drawing the basket upward.

After a short while, footsteps sounded from upstairs.

Ding, ding, ding—

Another two or three minutes passed, then a bell to the left of the front desk suddenly rang out clearly.

The stout man let out a quiet sigh of relief.

There were two bells at the front desk. The one on the left meant the guest had agreed or given permission; the one on the right meant no.

He glanced at the ledger again, then gave the two of them a room number.

"Second floor, Room 233. Someone will show you the way once you're upstairs."

Xu Yun thanked the innkeeper for Little Ox, and the two of them headed up the stairs.

The old staircase swayed underfoot, giving it the air of a condemned building.

If a salon for the top authors of Yuewen had been held at this hotel, Xu Yun figured it would have collapsed after two or three writers walked over it.

But Xu Yun and Little Ox together weighed less than Er Gen, so they reached the second floor without trouble.

As soon as they reached the landing, a short attendant came over to greet them.

He led Xu Yun and Little Ox straight down a narrow hallway, stopping at a room.

The lock had already been opened from inside, leaving the door slightly ajar. A faint smell of tobacco drifted out.

The attendant gestured for them to knock themselves, gave a slight bow, and took his leave.

Once the attendant was gone, Little Ox stepped forward and knocked.

"Mr. Hooke, I'm Isaac Newton."