Chapter 2

Seeking favorites, seeking recommendations.

In front of Zhu Jishi, a black vortex appeared, like a rapidly expanding black hole, spinning and swallowing him whole. Zhu Jishi struggled desperately but could not break free. His consciousness soon became blurred, and he gradually lost his senses.

When Zhu Jishi opened his eyes again, he found himself lying on a soft grassy field, bathed in warm sunlight, with the scent of fresh grass in the air.

He lifted his head and immediately felt dizzy, his mind in chaos. Wasn't he just sitting on a flight to Shanghai with his girlfriend? Why was he lying on a grassy field? Could the plane have crashed!?

Zhu Jishi suddenly sat up and noticed that Ye Yiren's backpack was still between his legs. In his right hand, he was still holding a hard stone, the jade pendant with the dragon pattern. In front of him was a beautiful lawn, and a bit further away, there were some small woods and a few buildings, which looked European in style.

Zhu Jishi's heart suddenly sank. Wasn't it the cold of January? Europe should be covered in ice and snow. How could there be warm sunlight and green grass? The temperature was at least ten degrees Celsius...

What was going on? Could this be the "穿越" (time travel) that Ye Yiren always talked about? This was too unbelievable!

He hesitantly stood up, stretched his limbs, and found that he was not injured. He then picked up the backpack and looked around.

Suddenly, two crisp gunshots broke the surrounding tranquility. Zhu Jishi turned his head sharply and saw a few foreigners standing not far from him, about a dozen meters away. There were three men and one woman. Two of the men were wearing bright red military uniforms, similar to the British Royal Guard at Buckingham Palace. They each held a pistol, an old-fashioned flintlock. The muzzles were pointed at each other, and a faint wisp of smoke was rising.

There was also an older, somewhat lecherous-looking man, dressed in a strangely styled suit, with a box slung over his shoulder. His mouth was wide open in shock, either because of Zhu Jishi's sudden appearance or the "shooting incident" that had just occurred.

However, the most eye-catching among the foreigners was the woman! It wasn't because of the physiological reaction to the opposite sex, although she was indeed very beautiful. She had fair skin, finely chiseled features, wavy golden hair, and large sky-blue eyes—these traits combined to make her a stunning beauty. If he had met such a girl on the campus of Mannheim and Ye Yiren was not around, Zhu Jishi would have definitely tried to strike up a conversation and perhaps even asked for her phone number...

But now, after being on a high-speed flight and somehow ending up here, Zhu Jishi had no thoughts of flirting. What caught his eye was actually her attire—a light yellow, low-cut, tight-waisted long dress that exposed her long neck and part of her ample chest. The skirt was supported by something, making it look like a wedding dress.

Was someone taking wedding photos? But where was the photographer? Just as he was wondering, a pig-like scream broke the silence, in proper Oxford English.

"Oh, God! I've been shot! I'm dying... Isabelle, I'm dying, give me one last kiss!"

The one screaming was one of the red-clad men, a short and fat guy, weighing at least 180 pounds. He was clutching his large belly, with blood trickling from his fingers, but not much. From Zhu Jishi's medical perspective, it was not a fatal wound.

Isabelle, the name of the woman, moved her gaze from the unexpected visitor, Zhu Jishi, to the fat man's belly. She then exclaimed in a dramatic tone, "Oh, God! Robert has been shot! He's been shot! Will, you've killed him..."

With a thud, the fat man fell backward, as if he were really dying. The old man with the box quickly ran to the fat man's side and knelt down. The red-clad man who had fired the shot—a handsome young man with brown hair, tall, blue eyes, and a high nose with a few freckles—seemed to be a first-time shooter. Seeing the fat man fall, he was also a bit panicked and stood there dumbly.

"Lady Countess, Mr. Churchill is in bad shape, shot in the abdomen! What are we going to do? Mr. Churchill is dying..."

The old man quickly took a pair of scissors from the box and skillfully cut open the fat man's red uniform and the shirt underneath, then looked at the wound on his large belly, which was oozing blood and bits of flesh. He also shouted loudly.

Hearing the name "Churchill," Zhu Jishi's lips twitched. He thought this fat man might be a descendant of the British Prime Minister from World War II... but it couldn't be the Prime Minister himself! He approached and saw that the fat man did resemble Churchill, but was even fatter, lying on the ground like a mountain of flesh. If Isabelle was a beautiful swan, this man was a fat bullfrog trying to eat the swan.

After confirming that the fat man was really dying, Isabelle, called "Lady Countess" by the old man, pulled out a silk handkerchief from somewhere and wiped her face, her large eyes brimming with tears. She knelt beside the fat man and sobbed.

"Give me one more kiss, Isabelle, darling, one more kiss."

The fat man, though barely breathing, still had a lustful heart and kept asking for a kiss. But his beloved only cried, showing no intention of giving him a kiss.

"Hey, shouldn't you take this fat man to the hospital for emergency treatment?" Seeing the chaotic scene, Zhu Jishi momentarily forgot his own situation and couldn't help but speak up.

"What's the point of going to the hospital? I'm the best gunshot wound doctor in all of England! Churchill has been shot in the abdomen, and no one in the world can save him." The old man turned to look at Zhu Jishi, frowning. "Are you a Tartar? Where are you from?"

"Tartar?" Zhu Jishi glared at the old man and pointed to the fat man lying on the ground, barely breathing. "Just operate and remove the bullet. The bullet hasn't hit any vital organs, or there would be more blood."

"Operate? God! You want to cut open his belly? Is that how Tartars treat injuries?"

"Why call me a Tartar... wait, " Zhu Jishi seemed to remember something. "What is the date today?"

"It's a little past one in the afternoon." The old man answered casually.

"What day is it?"

"September 15," the old man frowned and emphasized, "1842, September 15!"

"What, 1842, time travel is real!?"

Zhu Jishi clutched his forehead and groaned in pain. His mind was in chaos, but everything around him reminded him that this was not his original time, and he might never return to his original life.

Muttering "1842" repeatedly, the word "Qing Dynasty" popped into Zhu Jishi's mind. Although he was not a history enthusiast, he knew that China was in the dark and oppressive Daoguang era of the Qing Dynasty, and the Opium War, which opened China's closed doors and made it a semi-feudal, semi-colonial country, had just ended. In about eight years, a man from Huaxian, Guangdong, who couldn't even pass the imperial exams, Hong Xiuquan, would launch the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom revolution, which almost overthrew the Qing Dynasty! A turbulent era was about to begin!

But this had little to do with him. He was a medical graduate, not a theology graduate, and even if he were, following Hong Xiuquan wouldn't have much of a future...

"But where is this place?"

Zhu Jishi thought this definitely wasn't China.

"This is Oxfordshire."

Oh, it's England. He had time-traveled in Europe, not exactly in the same place, but not too far away. This wasn't a bad outcome. If he had appeared in the Qing Dynasty, he would probably have been beheaded by the soldiers for not having a queue!

Even if he wasn't beheaded, what could he do in the Qing Dynasty? Become a bandit? He wasn't small in stature and had some strength, but he hadn't trained and didn't know the rules of the underworld, so he probably couldn't be a bandit. Do business? Ha, he had nothing, not even enough to start a meat stall! Continue his medical career? His grandfather was a traditional Chinese medicine practitioner, and "Zhu Jishi" was a name given by his grandfather. He had learned some traditional Chinese medicine as a child, but he hadn't even mastered the basics, let alone pulse diagnosis. How could he be a traditional Chinese doctor? As for Western medicine, he could only practice in 1842 Europe or America. Since he