The Duke

The absence of soap meant not only dirty sheets but also unwashed hair—utterly unacceptable. Tang Feiliu enjoyed crafting small items and followed trends, experimenting with every recipe she found online. She mastered nothing but dabbled in everything.

Handmade soap had been all the rage back in the day. Tang Feiliu followed several soap-making experts and had even crafted bars to gift friends. Of course, such projects were straightforward in modern times. Here in the Lotte Empire, where resources were scarce, she could only opt for the simplest, cheapest recipe.

First, he burned wood and grass, ending up with a face covered in soot like a tabby cat, finally gathering some wood ash. Then he bought a lot of fatty pork—thank goodness the locals here knew to castrate their pigs. Though the fat layer wasn't thick, and the pigs looked lean in life, at least the meat didn't have that foul, sour smell common in other穿越 novels.

The real tragedy, however, was that while the Lott Empire excelled in overseas trade and had access to many spices, those spices were practically worth their weight in gold. A single peppercorn cost a pound, sometimes even more... It felt like punishment for any foodie.

Fortunately, aside from items like pepper and sugar, common local spices remained affordable. At least garlic, scallions, and ginger were reasonably priced. Salt, however, was relatively expensive, likely due to York's cooler climate and distance from the sea. Poor Tang Feiliu's first act upon bringing home salt was to cover the box with a small tin lid and carefully tuck it away in a corner. When cleaning, she'd even drape a clean cotton handkerchief over that spot, wistfully recalling modern times when a packet of salt cost just one yuan fifty.

But Tang Feiliu didn't buy all that meat just for soap—after all, soap could be made from leftover frying oil. She had to make the most of everything. She used the rendered fat to fry potato pancakes first, and even splurged on chicken to make fried chicken nuggets... Back home, she'd never have indulged in such extravagance. These dishes used so much oil! And they were fattening!

But in his current body, the expelled young master Lance had endured nearly a year of hardship outside. From the initial days of white bread, fish, and a respectable life, he’d descended into poverty, constant minor illnesses, and work troubles fueled by his temperament... When Tang Feiliu took over, the body was already alarmingly emaciated. Whether due to Tang Feiliu's own disposition or not, the young master's previous lack of appetite vanished, replaced by a voracious hunger for delicious food. Perhaps because he was still growing, he could never seem to get enough.

It seemed such a waste to use freshly rendered lard for soap, so Tang Feiliu simply focused on making all sorts of delicious fried treats at home. Then he turned his attention to soap. At first, since he wasn't using his familiar recipes, he failed several times. The soaps either had strange colors or wouldn't set properly, looking all sorts of bizarre. After numerous failures and growing tired of fried food, Tang Feiliu finally managed to make a few bars of soap as big as wooden boxes.

The soap wasn't particularly pretty—a dull, muddy yellow. In modern times, people wouldn't even consider using it for bathing, let alone laundry. But Tang Feiliu was overjoyed. He used a knife to cut the soap into palm-sized pieces. This batch yielded three wooden boxes' worth of soap, each box yielding about eight bars. With over twenty bars, it would last a long time. Tang Feiliu could finally set aside the rendered fat and seriously tackle his second task: completely improving their meals.

Young Master Lance was a fair-haired, blue-eyed youth, naturally delicate in appearance. Yet his frail constitution stemmed from being born prematurely, compounded by a poor appetite—let's be honest, the cooking skills in the Lotte Empire were such that even Tang Feiliu couldn't stomach them—and later, Lance endured the hardships of constant upheaval and displacement. So when Tang Feiliu first took him in, Lance looked absolutely dreadful. It took Tang Feiliu a full month or two of dedicated care before he began to look slightly less frightening, his cheeks no longer gaunt as if carved from bone.

When he began improving his diet, options were limited—baking bread himself was too troublesome, and his lodgings lacked a proper kitchen. From what he recalled, standard kitchens were still exclusive to the gentry and above; peasants and impoverished commoners typically possessed only a simple pot and a few basic bowls and chopsticks. After all, cooking methods here were still quite primitive. Stir-frying hadn't even been invented yet; most food was simply baked or boiled—luxuries reserved for the wealthy.

No wonder, after falling a social class, Lance had starved himself into such a state.

Tang Feiliu had no choice but to painstakingly procure an iron bucket himself. He had a craftsman cut an opening in it, then carried it back under stares that treated him like a moron. He set a kettle atop it, struggling daily to boil wheat and corn porridge for himself, frying eggs... At lunchtime, to avoid drawing attention, he avoided the unregulated food from small workshops and settled for simple sandwiches—yet even this earned him envious glances from the workers. Evenings were slightly better: stir-fried vegetables with meat, occasionally splurging on a small steak or lamb chop...

In short, despite the harsh external environment, Tang Feiliu's life after time travel gradually grew more comfortable.

After all his hustling, he earned twenty pounds from tailoring. Aside from spending over three pounds initially to set up his living space, he saved the rest. Later, his monthly wage of five shillings allowed him to live quite well. Tang Feiliu even learned to cut and sew fabric himself, crafting two sets of jackets, shirts, and simple coats that suited the lifestyle of the lower-middle class. They fit him neatly and sharply, drawing admiring glances even from the owner of the workshop.

Originally, Tang Feiliu had assumed his new life here would involve opening a fried meat shop. After all, the food in the Lott Empire was truly indescribable, mostly sharing the same style as the infamous "gazing at the stars." He figured a shop specializing in fried fish and potatoes could dominate the top of the nation's culinary charts.

Yet just as he was planning this venture, a turning point arrived quietly—first, someone in the small workshop developed a fever.

A common cold, by modern standards, was a simple matter. Buy a packet of cold medicine, take it for three days, and symptoms would mostly subside. For more severe cases, anti-inflammatory drugs and cold medicine would guarantee a cure.

But in this world, as Tang Feiliu remembered it, many people died from colds. Here, a mild cold could easily worsen due to improper treatment, and a severe one was essentially a death sentence.

The first to fall ill was a young girl, barely sixteen. The workshop owner sent her home. As she packed her belongings, her face flushed crimson, sobbing as she carried her things alone.

Tang Feiliu overheard someone nearby say the girl had lost her father, and her mother raised the three siblings alone. Both worked, and without this job, the girl had no money for treatment.

"Poor Anna..." People nearby watched the weeping girl with sympathy, yet no one dared approach her.

Having lived in modern society, Tang Feiliu rarely encountered such pitiable cases. After work, he hesitated for a moment, then turned a corner and finally made his way toward the slums.

From the daytime gossip, Tang Feiliu knew roughly where the girl lived. As soon as he entered the alley, he was swarmed by streetwalkers. His face flushed crimson as he asked for directions, then hurried away at a brisk pace. Even then, he could still hear their cheerful laughter trailing behind him.

Clearly, teasing Tang Feiliu—this fair-haired, blue-eyed, easily flustered cutie—had provided endless amusement for these bored streetwalkers.

For Tang Feiliu, this was his first encounter with such ferocious enthusiasm from the opposite sex. Though gay himself, he still felt his face burn as these streetwalkers rubbed their pale, half-exposed breasts directly against his face. He couldn't help but lament how short he really was now. Lance's height was probably around 5'5" at best. In the Western world, that height still made him practically a child. In fact, if it weren't for Tang Feiliu, he might be even shorter. Tang Feiliu worked so hard to improve his diet and drank milk every day precisely to support his growing body.

He walked in, took a few detours, and finally found the girl's home.

As he entered, he heard the sobs of a woman and children echoing from the room. Later, Tang Feiliu's memories of that day grew hazy. He only recalled walking in to find the darkened room without a light, the girl lying on the bed, her condition unknown. At the doorway, the girl's aged mother and two young boys wept, yet dared not step inside, terrified of being infected.

That day proved fortunate for the girl. Tang Feiliu used physical cooling methods to lower her temperature, staying by her side and working through the night with her mother. By the next morning, the girl's fever had subsided.

It was that very incident that began to spread Tang Feiliu's reputation.

The medical practices of the Lotte Empire were primitive. Beyond bloodletting, enemas, and starvation diets, they possessed virtually no treatment methods—a situation mirroring Europe's past. Religion stifled scientific progress, leaving people ignorant and uninformed.

Tang Feiliu's emergence offered salvation to those suffering minor ailments.

For his first successful treatment, Tang Feiliu received the girl's entire savings—ten shillings and half a pound. This sum fell far short of the cost of a single hospital consultation. Though Tang Feiliu initially refused, the girl's mother pressed it into his hands with gratitude, adding a loaf of black bread as long as an arm.

Thus, without fully understanding why, Tang Feiliu gradually transitioned into his new role. Before he could grasp it himself, those he had saved had already woven a narrative around his origins—people claimed he was a noble gentleman who had studied medicine under an exceptional teacher, only to be excluded from religiously controlled hospitals for refusing to worship the gods.

This became a shared secret among the community. At first, Tang Feiliu only treated the slum dwellers. But when a gentleman fell ill, sought treatment at the hospital, and only grew worse, he sought out Tang Feiliu.

The simple case of diarrhea had been treated with bloodletting and enemas. By the time Tang Feiliu saw the patient, he was barely clinging to life. That time, Tang Feiliu was trembling with fear. Beyond knowing a bit about colds—since he caught them several times a year and didn't want to take medicine every time—he truly knew nothing else!

Tang Feiliu could only start with his mother's old remedy for diarrhea—a last-ditch effort. He crushed garlic, stir-fried salt, mixed them together, and dissolved the concoction in water for the poor, weakened gentleman to drink.

Fortunately, medicine in this era was barely better than witchcraft. Though Tang Feiliu's remedy seemed bizarre, it appeared more legitimate than the doctor the gentleman had consulted earlier. So the gentleman struggled to drink it down. After four doses throughout the day, his diarrhea gradually subsided.

Both the gentleman and his servants were stunned. They treated Tang Feiliu like a VIP guest, showering him with lavish meals that pained Tang Feiliu inwardly—what a waste of ingredients! And so disgusting!

He took a sip of wine... Holy crap! The wine was loaded with pepper and fennel, its bizarre flavor making him want to spit it out immediately.

With a grimace, Tang Feiliu stopped the gentleman from devouring the roast goose and instead forced him to eat oatmeal porridge. After nearly half a month of strict bland diets and digestive care, the gentleman fully recovered.

With that, Tang Feiliu's reputation was firmly established.

He soon resigned his post, now receiving commoners seeking treatment daily or wealthy nobles willing to pay handsomely. He moved into a modest two-story house with a small garden—roughly the size of a modern villa, perhaps a hundred square meters—complete with a fully equipped kitchen!

By modern standards, this house was quite sufficient, but in the Lotte Empire, it was merely an ordinary residence for common citizens. Even so, it consumed all of Tang Feiliu's earnings from his medical practice at the time.

Tang Feiliu had planned meticulously: this small house would suffice for his solitary living, with vegetables grown in the garden. The ground floor would temporarily serve as a patient reception area. Once he saved enough money, he intended to purchase another house next door or in the same neighborhood to establish his private clinic...

Up to this point, Tang Feiliu believed his life was destined to be that of a medieval physician, contributing enlightenment to the Lot Empire's backward medical practices. Yet, just as he was meticulously planning every detail, an unexpected turn of events occurred—Duke Edward's personal servant arrived in the dead of night, practically forcing Tang Feiliu to depart immediately for Black Swan Castle to treat the ailing duke.

Tang Feiliu trembled from head to toe, desperately wishing he could play dead on the spot!

If it were any other noble, it wouldn't have mattered. Over the past year, Viscount Tang Feiliu had seen his share and considered himself sufficiently composed. Though he'd never been to Black Swan Castle, he had made house calls to places a day's journey by carriage.

As a modern man who had seen the world, why on earth would Tang Feiliu be so terrified of this duke?! Well, it was because this duke was rumored to be utterly brutal!

In an era where eldest sons inherited titles, where being driven out by one's elder brother and left to starve or die of illness was not considered a crime, this Duke Edward was the third child of the old duke. Born with dark hair and eyes on the sixth day of the sixth month, the sacred texts recorded that a child born at 6:06 PM on the sixth day of the sixth month was the devil's spawn, born to devour its mother and destined to kill its father upon reaching adulthood.

It sounds like feudal superstition, yet upon the Duke Edward's birth, his mother bled to death. His father, a devout believer, was terrified and sought to draw his sword and kill the child immediately. He was stopped by envoys sent by Queen Josephine, the Duke's mother's sister. Ultimately, he chose to confine the child within the castle's highest tower, decreeing that no one except servants could approach the tower.

What transpired during his confinement remains unknown. At sixteen, the old duke died, and his eldest son expelled Edward from the estate. After a year of wandering, Edward reached the royal capital, where he found his aunt and began serving Queen Josephine. Within the next decade, his aunt, Empress Josephine, rose to prominence. Though her position as empress had been precarious—the emperor favored his mistress and even contemplated dethroning Josephine—the mistress suddenly died, and the emperor's beloved illegitimate son perished in a duel. Subsequently, the second son born to Empress Josephine, Charles, accomplished several deeds greatly pleasing to the Emperor. Then, the eldest son born to the previous Empress died after falling from his horse while riding drunk. Thus, Charles naturally became the master of the entire empire.

Of course, the common folk knew nothing of these events. It was only when Tang Feiliu treated a nobleman that the patient mentioned to his visiting friend how Duke Edward's elder and second brothers had suddenly perished in horse-riding accidents, allowing Edward to inherit the title and prepare to return to Black Swan Castle.

The two then discussed the Duke of Edward's past, murmuring softly: "The Duke of Edward aided Empress Josephine when she nearly divorced the Emperor, preserving the glory of his mother's family. His cousin ascended the throne, while his brothers met such tragic ends. Though sorrowful, it is only fitting that Lord Edward inherits all this."

Had Tang Feiliu been raised as the son of a local gentry, he might have missed the subtle undertones of such aristocratic discourse. But Tang Feiliu had grown up in the era of the internet explosion. While he might not grasp the intricacies of Machiavellian politics, he was no stranger to the intrigues and schemes depicted in countless TV shows, movies, and even his favorite farming novels. This Duke Edward clearly wasn't someone to be trifled with!

At the time, Tang Feiliu had marveled: in such a seemingly simple era, there could still exist such a ruthless and cunning individual. Impressive, my friend.

He’d dismissed it as mere fiction—until months after the Duke inherited his title and returned to Black Swan Castle. Suddenly, Tang Feiliu found himself hauled into this opulent carriage, clutching his pitiful little suitcase, bound for an audience with the dreaded Duke.

Tang Feiliu gazed sadly out the window—he only hoped the duke’s illness wasn’t too severe. This was no ordinary noble residence like those in York City. Who knew if the duke couldn’t be saved, he might be forced to accompany him in death!

As Tang Feiliu brooded, the carriage clattered on for a long time. After a full day and night, it finally arrived at Black Swan Castle.

Perched on a cliff overlooking the world below, Black Swan Castle resembled a beast lurking in the darkness—massive and oppressive. It bore no resemblance to Disney's fairy-tale style, instead evoking the eerie atmosphere of The Haunted Mansion.

Tang Feiliu felt a heavy weight in his stomach. He desperately wanted to turn and run.

Author's Note:

New Series Double Update