James's Hobby

In 1845, Canada had only recently completed its east-west unification and was the largest overseas colony of the United Kingdom.

Edmonton, where the Howlett Family lived, was the largest city in Alberta. Though in the eyes of British nobles across the ocean, a colonial landowner could never qualify as their equal, there was no denying that in this region, the Howletts were the most powerful, wealthy, and influential noble family.

Summer in the Midwest was unbearable. The towering Rocky Mountains blocked the cold tundra climate from the north, while the cool winds from the east lingered at the foot of the mountains, reluctant to move on. The manor rooms had enough ice to keep them cool, and even the great beasts in the stables enjoyed the same comfort.

But the workers and slaves in the ranches and fields could only let their sweat become the sweet water that nourished the land.

Mr. Howlett believed they were naturally suited to such conditions. He claimed this was entirely in keeping with his usual "strict but fair" principles: since the vast majority of them had dark skin, they ought to live under the sun. It was only natural.

Over the past few days, James had begun to adjust to the daily life of the so-called aristocracy. He had a tutor teaching him writing and arithmetic, along with lessons in etiquette.

Mr. Howlett had hired the tutor from London at a high salary. He was a literature and history graduate from Oxford, and was also fluent in French and Latin.

Mr. Howlett couldn't let his grandson, the future heir to the family, grow up in this uncivilized land as nothing more than a cowboy who knew how to rope cattle and fire a gun. The Howlett Family was going to become true British aristocrats, and James deserved the best education from childhood. For this, Mr. Howlett paid him a weekly salary of thirteen pounds.

Every day, young James studied arithmetic with Mr. Daniel for an hour, English and history for another hour, and French and Latin for an hour each.

Daniel generously gave him fifteen minutes of rest between each subject. This was mainly because James's progress and results over the past month had been remarkable.

He had always been a well-behaved, obedient child, but one couldn't deny that children this age were curious about the world outside. Books could never be as adorable as ponies. It was only because Rose, the little maid who had always studied alongside him, did far better than James that Mr. Daniel couldn't afford to ease up on his lessons.

"All right, James, that's enough for today. Very good, especially your arithmetic. I think in a few weeks you'll be able to help Mr. Howlett with his accounts! You still need to work on your French. It's a very important language in Britain."

"Yes, Mr. Daniel. I'll be off, then." After giving a polite little nod, the young maid Rose O'Hara also lifted her skirt slightly and performed a proper curtsy before leaving with James.

"I heard we can see fireflies by the threshing floor tonight! Would you like to go, young master James?" O'Hara looked at James with eager anticipation, her bright red hair swaying. A few freckles stood out on the bridge of her nose against her shining fair skin, making the little girl look all the more endearing.

"Sorry, O'Hara. I have to review the lessons Mr. Daniel assigned tonight, so I can't go with you." James wasn't swayed by his little maid's cuteness. He gave her a somewhat absent-minded reply.

"Again... You still call me O'Hara, too. Isn't using someone's surname what strangers do?" Hearing the unmistakably aggrieved and indignant complaint beside him, James couldn't help but rub his temples and comfort her. "Because O'Hara sounds cuter. It suits you better."

"Really? Young master James, do you think I'm cute?" A child's mood changed like the weather at sea. Just a moment ago, a storm had been brewing; now the skies were bright again.

"Of course. You're the cutest person in the manor."

O'Hara giggled with satisfaction, completely forgetting about the fireflies by the threshing floor. After saying goodbye to James, she went to the servants' quarters for dinner.

Even though James had never had children in his previous life, he was honestly troubled by the little shadow who followed him around every day. O'Hara's mother was Mrs. Elizabeth, James's mother's personal maid.

Ever since his older brother Tony had died before James had even met him, the Howlett Family had never employed another Black servant. O'Hara and her mother had come to Canada from Northern Ireland in search of a living. It had been no small feat for a widow with a young daughter to make the two-month voyage.

Many impoverished British commoners with no means of supporting themselves chose to come to the colonies and work for the wealthy and the manor owners. Though life here wasn't as rich as back home, the pay was good. More importantly, to some extent, they could experience what it was like to be among the upper class.

Fortunately, James had managed to secure plenty of time alone in his room each morning and evening by claiming he needed to study. His rapid progress also proved that his excuse was "no lie."

Everyone in the manor knew that young master James's greatest hobby was studying hard by himself in his room. Otherwise, he couldn't imagine how to explain why a twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy spent four or five hours alone every day, instead of chasing ponies and climbing banyan trees as he used to.

Of course, studying wasn't James's real hobby. The standard of education in the nineteenth century was very limited, especially in the colonies. Even a brilliant Oxford graduate who hadn't specialized in mathematics or the sciences could hardly compare, in mathematics, with a Chinese student who had received a solid basic education.

In his previous life, Bai Feng's English had been ordinary, but the several thousand words he had learned far exceeded a child's vocabulary. The only things that required some effort were French and Latin, two languages he had never studied before. But if he set aside his childish tendency to let his mind wander, learning two languages seriously wouldn't be difficult.

After dinner, James handled his grandfather's and parents' casual questions and conversation, then politely asked if he could return to his room to review his lessons. Mr. Howlett nodded his approval, his face creased with satisfaction, and James went upstairs and gently shut the door behind him.

He stood still with his eyes closed for a moment, then let out a long breath. He planted his feet apart and sank slightly at the knees, his hands hovering beside his waist. He stood there in the room in a rather peculiar pose.

The balcony doors and windows stood wide open, facing the many bright moons and stars overhead. His body rose and fell and swayed gently with each breath. After a while, once his body had begun to warm, he paused and raised his shoulders. In an instant, he was balanced on his toes, his body unfolding flat as he twisted his spine in a controlled sequence, his joints making orderly sounds, then bent backward and folded forward.

He moved through more than a dozen such postures in succession, finally coming to a standstill and drawing himself back in after a full hour. He casually stretched a few times, then flopped onto the bed, turning things over in his mind.

I've spent nearly a month standing in basic stances to build my foundation every day, doing a set of Baduanjin in the morning, slapping my joints and acupoints all over, and practicing the basic Yijin Gong once every evening. This body isn't as bad as I imagined. It should be no different from that of a healthy child. So why was I always falling ill for no apparent reason as a child? Could I really just have severe allergies? It doesn't seem like practicing martial arts could fix that...

James lay on the bed, staring blankly, planning how he should get by in this strange new world.

Perhaps because his mastery of boxing had once reached the highest level, his spiritual and mental cultivation had also brought him some degree of "seeing through" and "knowing the will of Heaven." He had adapted remarkably well to the strange experience of being reborn in another time and body.

Besides, though his former body had been exceptionally perceptive, he'd been born with deficient blood and vital energy and an extremely poor constitution. In professional Western medical terms, he'd had congenital heart disease from birth, kidney failure, and very thin, fragile bones.

He'd been a sickly weakling doomed to die young, yet through the practice of internal martial arts, he'd gradually improved his constitution, progressing from the Ming Jin stage to the An Jin stage and finally reaching mastery.

Even so, his physical abilities had only become comparable to those of an average, healthy person. If he exerted too much An Jin, his heart couldn't bear the strain. And it was precisely because he'd forced his power through to kill his martial uncle and avenge his master that he'd died young of heart failure.

Now it seemed that time had turned back more than 170 years, and he'd ended up in the backward British colony of Canada in the mid-nineteenth century. Still, his family was extremely wealthy, and it looked like he'd want for nothing in this life. His body had a few problems he didn't yet understand, but it was still far better than the one he'd had in his previous life.

Knock, knock...

Elizabeth gently opened the door and asked, "Jamie, are you resting?"