Although the Jonesters were a family of hereditary baronets, they could hardly compare with other noble families. In the eyes of the nobility, they were a fallen house that struggled to maintain even basic appearances, but the Jonesters themselves did not care about such things.
Buck, the old butler who had watched the two brothers grow up, was more like family to them than a servant.
Mulan's retirement and return home had been rather sudden, but the war was over, after all, and quite a few officers were making similar requests. His return brought a surge of warmth to the Jonester household, and let him experience equally deep family affection in this world that felt both familiar and strange.
Every day, old Buck did his best to prepare Mulan's favorite foods. Whenever Mulan got up, he made his bed, washed his clothes, and tidied his room, attending to his every need.
This left Mulan with no choice but to break his habit of leaving the bedding in a heap after getting up. The first thing he did each morning was spread out or fold his blanket, and he made every effort to keep his room tidy so old Buck would not have to keep cleaning up after him.
Heaven knew that back in the colorful twenty-first century, apart from working to make a living, Mulan-or rather, Li Xiu-had spent most of his free time holed up at home. He never folded his blankets, and his room was a mess, though he could always find his things. He had never lived by such a regular routine.
Of course, even if he was not quite used to these changes, they were only minor issues. What truly troubled Mulan was his insomnia. In the days since returning home, he had slept through until morning only once. The rest of the time, he slept poorly.
The slightest noise woke him, and he often dreamed. They were not all nightmares; he had all sorts of strange dreams.
On the seventh day after his return, an old man and a young man stood inside the shabby house by the front door. The old man wore casual trousers, a shirt, and a vest. Though his vest and trousers had several patches, his clothes fit well, and he looked sprightly. His white hair and beard were neatly trimmed, and he was straightening the young man's clothes.
The young man had brown eyes and slightly wavy brown hair. His eyes were bright, and he was tall and somewhat lean. He held his arms slightly away from his sides, trying not to get in the old man's way.
"Young Master Mulan, don't dwell on it. It's all in the past."
The old man smoothed the young man's shirt and adjusted his collar, then tugged the hem of his overcoat straight. His gaze passed over Mulan's cuffs before he gave the corner of the coat a light pat and stepped back with a satisfied smile.
Only then did Mulan lower his arms and smile at the old man.
"Don't worry, Grandpa Buck. I'm neither depressed nor manic. I just have a little insomnia."
"That's good, then. Here, and mind your injury."
"Grandpa Buck, my injury really is almost healed!"
Old Buck took a formal hat from the rack beside him and handed it to Mulan. Once Mulan put it on, Buck stepped aside and gently opened the front door. As the door swung open, more and more light spilled into the dim interior, revealing the world of passing pedestrians outside.
"I'm off, Grandpa Buck."
"All right. Be careful, and come home early. There'll be a feast for dinner!"
Leaning against the doorway, the old man called after Mulan as he stepped outside and looked back. Mulan gave him a radiant smile.
"Wonderful. I can hardly wait."
With that eager remark, Mulan left home and headed out onto the street, into this new world. His pace was neither hurried nor slow as he walked along the fairly narrow street, soon joining a broad avenue where four carriages could travel abreast.
Strong winds swept through the street. There were few pedestrians, and everyone hurried along. The carriages kept moving without pause.
Whoosh... whoosh...
A gust came howling toward him. Mulan reached up to hold his hat in place, his hair fluttering over his ears and his overcoat whipping to one side.
Seeing many pedestrians stagger in the wind, Mulan looked up at the rather gloomy sky.
"Paper! Paper! The Valentine Daily! The beautiful and noble Crown Princess Nisheriel ascends the throne as empress! A great storm is about to sweep through Valentine! Paper! Paper!"
Not far away, a paperboy with a cloth bag slung across his shoulder shouted at the top of his lungs. Whenever a strong gust blew past, he braced himself against a shop wall or one of the street's gas lamps.
Mulan walked steadily toward the paperboy, who immediately began his sales pitch.
"Sir, buy a paper! All the latest news from everywhere, just ten pence a copy."
Mulan glanced at the boy's bulging cloth bag, felt for the coins in his trouser pocket, and took out two.
"One copy."
"Thank you, sir. Here's your paper."
The paperboy handed over the newspaper, took the money, and left with a smile. The weather had kept people indoors lately, making newspapers harder to sell.
Mulan did not read the paper yet. Holding it in his hand, he continued on his way. After about seven or eight minutes, the shops along the street became noticeably more prosperous, and the surroundings grew livelier.
Signs covered in large lettering lined the street in a dazzling array: tailors, watchmakers, jewelers, and, of course, shops with several large jars of brightly colored liquids displayed in glass cabinets. Those were apothecaries.
Mulan slowed his steps and took in everything around him with all his senses. The sights and sounds made him feel as though he had stepped into a scene he had once watched on a screen, yet it was far more vivid than any story on a screen could ever be!
At last, Mulan stopped outside a clinic.
Old Buck had already bought some medicine for Mulan at an apothecary, but none of it had relieved his insomnia, so this time Mulan intended to see a proper doctor.
In fact, professional medical care was very expensive. When ordinary people fell ill, they generally went straight to an apothecary, where the pharmacist made a preliminary assessment and recommended what they should buy. It was a relatively affordable way for common people to seek treatment.
Because of the strong winds, the clinic's front door was shut, though a sign marked "Open" hung on it.
Mulan stood outside and knocked. Soon, a woman opened the door for him.
"I'm Mulan, Mulan Jonester. I have an appointment today."
"Ah, yes. Please come in, Mr. Jonester!"
When she opened the door, the woman stared for a moment at the young man standing in the wind. Now she quickly recovered and stepped aside to invite him in, the tips of her ears growing slightly warm.
Mulan nodded and entered the clinic. He knew his current body had more going for it than his former one.
Honestly, I really am rather charming!
Even Mulan could not resist indulging in a little private vanity.
The consultation, however, did not go smoothly.
"Mr. Jonester, all the medicines you've taken were appropriate. None of them relieved your condition at all?"
The elderly doctor in spectacles asked for confirmation, and Mulan could only repeat his answer.
"A higher dose of Anloc helped a little, but not as much as the pharmacist said it would. Should I increase the dose again?"
The old doctor hurriedly shook his head.
"Please don't try that. If you take too much of some of those medicines, you may never wake up."
Having said this, the doctor frowned as he considered Mulan's condition. Only after a long while did he speak again.
"Mr. Jonester, you're a soldier who has returned from the battlefield. Your illness may be related to the war. If medication isn't helping much, I suggest you pray to God more often and visit church. It may help."
"Thank you, doctor."
Mulan managed a faint smile, rose, and took his leave. The doctor's diagnosis had been of little use, but he still had to pay. As for praying-sorry, he had no interest.
When he left the clinic, the wind outside seemed to have grown stronger. Rather than taking the same route home, he made a detour along another busy road so he could see and learn more about this place.
At an intersection where the wind was weaker, Mulan unfolded the newspaper. The prominent front-page headline immediately caught his eye-Welcome Our Imperial Empress.
The lengthy article could be boiled down to this: First Princess Nisheriel had formally succeeded to the throne as empress.
The matter was far removed from Mulan's life, though he could not help jokingly picturing an anime character with a tuft of hair sticking up. Then he immediately began flipping through the paper, finding news that interested him more in the lead story on page three.
Right after that, he noticed another large headline-A Great Storm Will Soon Engulf Valentine.
Holding the paper, Mulan stared at the words "great storm" as though entranced, his mind beginning to drift.
Rumble... Whooo... whoosh...
Mulan looked up at his surroundings. Everywhere he looked, murky, dim air currents filled his vision. He felt as though he stood at the center of a gigantic tornado, watching a storm that connected heaven and earth spin endlessly, with all kinds of brilliant colors spreading through it.
Crinkle...
Mulan clenched the newspaper, and the hallucination quickly faded, but his mental state remained poor. He felt dizzy, with a faint, sharp pain, and unpleasant memories of the battlefield kept surfacing.
"Fuck!"
Mulan roared, venting the jumble of thoughts in his head. His discomfort eased, but did not disappear entirely. He grimaced and decided to go straight home. The aftereffects of war alone could not explain his hallucinations. Ordinary doctors were no use to him.
As he hurried home, Mulan passed a sanctuary, and the doctor's words echoed in his mind.
Supernatural mysteries exist in this world. Could religious institutions like these churches really possess special powers too?
Just as he was thinking this, Mulan spotted a familiar figure at the church entrance.
"That fellow with the sturdy head?"
Recognizing the young cleric who had run into a streetlamp that day, Mulan stopped. After a moment's thought, he walked toward him anyway. When the cleric saw Mulan, he nodded and smiled, looking every bit the kindly missionary.
Unfortunately, Mulan's image of the cleric was already firmly fixed as "the fellow with the sturdy head." No matter how respectable he looked, there was nothing holy about him in Mulan's eyes.
But to Mulan's surprise, as he reached the sanctuary entrance, his mental discomfort eased noticeably, making his eyes widen slightly.