Chapter 9: The Beauty's Favor is Hard to Repay, Difficult to Satisfy the Mad Collector

  New book uploaded, desperately seeking collection and recommendation

  The carriage passed through several intersections and stopped at the side of the road after a turn. Isabelle asked Zhu Jishi to get off the carriage. After getting off the carriage, Zhu Jishi found that the entire street was lined with shops, all of which were small stores decorated very delicately. Zhu Jishi turned his head to look at Isabelle: "Isabelle, where is this..."

  "This is Dover Street, my sister has a small shop here." Isabelle pointed to a small clothing store with the sign "Dulan's Clothing Store". "Dulan was her late husband's surname. The third floor of the shop is temporarily empty, you can stay there for now without paying rent. However, if you want to partner with my sister and help her with some household chores, it would be fine to give her half a pound to one pound per month."

  Zhu Jishi found 1842 London to be a completely new world, he took a look around and thought the environment was quite good, transportation seemed convenient as well, and on top of that, he didn't have to pay rent, so he thanked Countess Isabelle: "Isabelle, thank you so much, I'm very satisfied with this place."

  The countess smiled: "Jason, as long as you like it, there's no problem with how long you stay."

  "Isabelle, dear, the wind has blown you here." A charming voice sounded, and the door of the Deneuve fashion store was suddenly pushed open. A woman in her thirties with a white headscarf, black dress, and white cloak walked out. She had a seductive face like the countess, with very pale skin and wavy golden hair. Her figure was even more voluptuous than the countess's, with a prominent bust that gave off a mature womanly charm. If she were ten years younger, she would probably be a femme fatale who could inspire men to duel for her sake.

  "Roman," the countess kissed a plump cheek, and then introduced him to Juzi: "This is my sister Madame Dulan—this is Jason Zhu (at breakfast time, Juzi had already told the countess his 'strange' Tartar surname), he is an outstanding surgeon, just arrived from Germany."

  "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Zhu..." The mature woman batted her eyes and looked at Zhū Jìshì with curiosity, "You are... from the East?"

  "He's a Tartar." The countess smiled at the housekeeper. "See to the third floor, Jason will be staying here for a while."

  The middle-aged woman looked at Zhu Jishi with a strange gaze, then loudly called out to her own small shop's Henry Labigon, a quiet-looking young man of about 20 years old, and had him take Zhu Jishi up to the third floor.

  The third floor of the small shop was not empty, but a warehouse for storing fabrics, with various colors of wool or silk fabrics piled up on the stairs and corridors. The young man opened the door to a room facing Dover Street, which also had some fabric piled up, but not too much, and the two of them quickly cleared out the room by working together. Then the young man somehow brought in a folding bed and set it up inside the small room. In addition, there was a wooden table, two chairs, and a wardrobe in the room, with no other furniture. Fortunately, Zhu Jishi didn't have much luggage either, so this small room was just right for settling down. This young man named Henri Rabignon seemed to have just come from France, unable to speak English or German, while Zhu Jishi did not understand French, so the two of them simply communicated with simple gestures.

  While ZHU JI Shi and HEN LI were busy upstairs, the female count was also chatting with her sister in French on the first floor of the small shop.

  "What's so special about this Tartar?" Mrs. Dulan handed a cup of freshly brewed coffee to the countess.

  "Perhaps," the countess said, lightly rotating the small coffee cup in her hand, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, "it will be an investment that yields a profit of one hundred thousand."

  "How about that Will?"

  The countess's delicate eyebrows were furrowed, her face full of disgust. "Will is done for, this kid actually went to duel with Winston, I told him not to but he wouldn't listen! And in the end, he even used a firearm to blast a hole in Robert's belly."

  "Good heavens, he's killed Mr. Churchill!" exclaimed Mrs. Durance.

  "That fat guy didn't die, he was saved by the Tartar people upstairs!" The countess sipped her coffee and hummed softly, "But the Duke of Marlborough won't let it go easily, Will will definitely be expelled from the army, and his future is ruined. And that duke won't allow Robert to pursue me again either... this time we really lost big, fortunately we found out about that Tartar person..."

  "Tartar? Good heavens, Isabel, you surely can't have fallen in love with this Tartar?" Mrs. Durand's mouth was half open, her face a picture of astonished bewilderment.

  "Roman! How could I possibly like a Tartar...?" She paused suddenly, and then sighed: "Roman, don't you understand my thoughts? I won't get married again."

  "Are you still thinking of those upper-class Englishmen?" Mrs. Durand shook her head and sighed, "But would they marry you? Isabelle, don't forget that you're just a commoner, your title of baroness means nothing to them!"

  Isabelle smiled faintly and looked at Madame Dulan. "Roman, I told you, I won't consider marriage again."

  "Are you going to spend the rest of your life as the belle of the Almack's set?" Mrs. Durand smiled wryly. "Isabel, you're still young, why don't you find someone who loves you and get married?"

  "Love me? It's not hard to find someone like Will Heming, but do you think I can still live a life of poverty? " Isabelle's pearly whites nibbled on her red lips, and after a moment of silence, she changed the subject. "Dr. Blumstein thinks this Tartar's medical skills are superb, he'll definitely become a famous doctor in the future. Roman, consider him, at least keep an eye on him, which famous doctor in London doesn't have an annual income of hundreds of pounds?"

  "Give it to me? A... Tartar?" Mrs. Dulan pouted, seemingly not very satisfied, and after a while, she sighed: "Okay, let's put it away for now, if he really can become a famous doctor, then we can consider it, and he looks pretty good too."

  At this time, a sound of stairs echoed, and Zhū Jì Shì, who had unknowingly become the Countess "Let" given to Madame Dulan, had settled into her new home in 1842, came downstairs with a heart full of gratitude.

  "Roman, help Jason pick out some decent clothes, he doesn't look like a gentleman at all now. Those people from the Customs and Medical Association are all superficial and judge people by their appearance."

  The countess gave Zuo Jishi a charming smile, "My sister and Henry are both very good tailors. The clothes here were all made by them personally. I think you won't mind taking care of their business?"

  For less than three pounds, Zuo Jishi changed into a heavy and thick Western-style suit and trousers, and Mrs. Dulan also gave him a cylindrical hat that could hold a rabbit and a half-used wooden cane. Then, Zuo Jishi got on the carriage with Isabel and headed straight to the customs office at the London port.

  The process of obtaining a passport was faster and more convenient than expected. The British customs officer only asked Zhu Jishi where he came from, where he was going, and then issued a passport that looked like a notebook. On the second page of the passport, they simply noted Zhu Jishi's physical characteristics, and that was it. It seemed that no one cared how long this 21st-century stowaway planned to stay in Britain, whether he wanted to work, study, do business, or engage in terrorist activities. And so, on the second day of his arrival in 1842, Zhu Jishi had easily solved the problem of not having any identification.

  After getting the passport, Isabelle took Zhū Jìshì to the Royal Medical Society's medical association, where the medical license exam was not held every day. Zhū Jìshì registered for the exam at a clerk with an incredulous expression - preparing to take the medical qualification exam in three weeks' time. Then he bought several thick medical books from a bookstore next to the medical association. Although in Zhū Jìshì's opinion, the content was either nonsense or incorrect, it would be called "Killer Doctor's Guide" if it were not for getting a medical license, still need to open up a few nights to review carefully. The final exam was very smooth, after all, Zhū Jìshì's medical knowledge was very rich, and he had more than ten years of experience in the examination field, so taking an exam for a 19th-century killer doctor's license was not a big deal?

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