1836: I Became a Literary Giant in Great Britain

Chapter 141: The Game of Wealth, Luck, and Wisdom

While the whole of America was being played by Michelle, she was dreaming of the aftermath of the dinner party.

He was still fast asleep at noon the next day.

Murray then paid a visit with a bright smile on his face.

Michelle: Thank you so much.

However, Murray probably didn't expect Michelle to still be sleeping at midday...

So when Michelle opened the door, yawning, the publisher practically burst in.

He was also waving a copy of The Times in his hand.

"My God, Michelle!"

"You're on the front page! Did you see today's paper?"

In Murray's hands, the front page of the newspaper prominently featured a report in bold font.

"The King's Dinner: The Birth of a New Literary Star".

The article described the grand occasion last night in detail and lavished praise on Michelle's talent.

His exchanges with Wordsworth, in particular, and his insightful understanding of the sublime quality of Turner's paintings, were embellished by the journalists.

They practically portrayed him as a genius of art criticism who appeared out of nowhere.

"You're the talk of the town in London's cultural scene right now!"

And these are all minor matters; I came here for other reasons...

At this point, Murray paused, lowered his voice, and said, "Just this morning, a gentleman from the Royal Society of Literature approached me and subtly asked if you were interested in joining them."

'

Royal Society of Literature?

Michelle was a little confused.

[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name: 20 ...

He was aware of this, although it wasn't as well-known as the Royal Society of Nature, which is the highest academic institution in the UK.

The Royal Society of Literature is a highly authoritative academic institution in the field of literature in the UK.

They actually wanted to invite me?

Michelle knew the dinner would have some impact, but she didn't expect it to be so immediate.

Indeed, talent coupled with power is the most powerful passport.

After seeing off the excited Murray, Michelle sat alone in the apartment for a long time.

London outside the window was still shrouded in gray, but Michel knew that the world he lived in was completely different from what it had been a few months ago.

This sudden change made him feel a little unreal.

In the afternoon, in an attempt to escape this mood, he accepted Dickens and Michael's invitation to relax with a light card game.

The poker game was set to take place at Michelle's apartment.

His spacious living room had a fireplace, making it warm and exceptionally comfortable.

After receiving a large sum of money, Michelle was still generous in improving her quality of life.

To be honest, this spring was exceptionally cold, almost the coldest spring ever recorded in the UK.

So even in March, Michelle often had to keep the fireplace burning for warmth.

Besides Michael and Dickens, Catherine also joined their card game.

Soon, at the appointed time, the Dickens and Michael arrived on time.

However, what they had in common was that their faces were filled with intense curiosity and excitement.

This is a banquet at St. James's Palace!

King William IV attended in person.

And Princess Victoria...

Although they had already seen some reports about Michelle in the newspapers, they still wanted to ask her in person.

"My God, Michel, so you really saw His Majesty the King?"

Michael's eyes widened.

"He spoke to you again?"

Dickens, however, was more concerned with something else.

He grabbed Michelle's arm and asked anxiously.

"What did Mr. Wordsworth say? Did he like your poetry? Did you mention me to him?"

Michelle was so annoyed by their noise that she had no choice but to give in.

"Alright, alright, one at a time."

"The King was very kind, and Mr. Wordsworth also appreciated my work."

"But it seems you weren't mentioned, Charles."

He briefly recounted the scene at the dinner party.

Of course, the parts about the balcony and Miss Ivana were omitted.

Even so, it was enough to leave Dickens and Michael speechless and filled with envy.

"To be able to speak with Mr. Turner...and even be invited to his studio as a guest..."

"My God, Michel, your luck is better than finding gold in the Thames!"

Dickens couldn't help but sigh.

After a brief period of excitement and casual conversation, the atmosphere in the apartment returned to its usual relaxed state.

"Now that our hero has returned in triumph, how about we celebrate with a few rounds of Whistler?"

Michael suggested, a sly glint in his eyes.

"Great idea!" Dickens immediately agreed.

"This will serve as a wake-up call for him, letting him sober up from the euphoria of the palace banquet and experience the harsh realities of life among ordinary people!"

Seeing her friends' enthusiasm, Michelle didn't want to spoil their fun.

And so the game officially began.

They were playing the most popular card game at the time, Whist.

In fact, modern playing cards are not much different from those of later generations.

It still uses 52 cards, and the same four suits: hearts, diamonds, clubs, and spades.

The biggest difference is that there are no jokers.

It will be decades before the two kings appear in the United States.

Whist is a four-player game that tests memory and teamwork to a great extent, with strict rules.

As the progenitor of modern bridge, this type of hand, while having a higher element of luck, is still not very common.

Overall, it's still a technical game.

Just like Texas Hold'em in later generations, even good luck is of little use to someone who doesn't know how to play...

But soon, Michelle found it difficult to adjust.

He was already used to the various ways of playing modern poker, such as "Golden Flower" and "Landlord".

He simply couldn't adapt to this classic, hardcore, and tedious way of playing.

Michelle needs to remember every card that has been played, deduce the possible remaining cards in her opponents' hands, and coordinate with her partner based on subtle signals.

This was more difficult for him than writing a sonnet....

Okay, copying a poem isn't actually that difficult...

As a result, less than an hour into the game, Michelle's chips were dwindling at a visible rate.

His partner Michael frequently gave him meaningful glances, but he always misunderstood and played fatal, useless cards.

The atmosphere at the card table gradually became subtle.

Michael's face grew increasingly grim, while Dickens looked like he was trying to suppress a laugh.

"Oh, our great poet."

Dickens skillfully gathered the chips he had won from Michel while making a sarcastic remark in his characteristic, slightly exaggerated tone.

"You are the undisputed king of the kingdom of poetry, but at the Whist poker table, even a homeless man from Whitechapel could probably take your crown."

As his partner, Michael couldn't help but complain.

"I was wrong, I was really wrong. I thought that by partnering with a genius poet, I could absorb some of his wisdom, but I never expected to fall straight into the abyss."

"Michel, I'm starting to wonder if you used up all your scheming and intrigue when you wrote 'A Study in Scarlet'."

Although he lost money, Michael finally felt a sense of reality.

So there are things in this world that Michelle can't do...

Michelle's cheeks felt a little hot.

Losing money is a small matter; saving face is a big deal.

I must have played poorly just now! Look at how I perform this round...

After yet another crushing defeat, Michel had very few shillings left.

He finally realized that he really needed to practice more on the Whistler cards.

When people are pushed to their limits, they can't learn how to play cards.

"Our great, brilliant poet seems to be less than a vagrant at the card table."

Dickens laughed so hard he almost fell over, then delivered the final, sarcastic blow.

These words instantly ignited Michelle's competitive spirit.

He looked at the few lonely coins in front of him, and then at his friends' gloating faces.

A surge of competitive spirit welled up within me.

Michelle pushed the cards in her hand away, scattering them on the table.

"I'm not playing anymore! I'm not playing anymore!"

"What? Our great writer can't accept defeat?"

Michael raised an eyebrow and joked.

"This kind of game that relies purely on luck and rote memorization is too boring."

Michelle cleared her throat with a mysterious smile, feigning profundity.

He stood up and took out a huge sheet of drawing paper from the room and spread it out.

"Why don't you try a new game I recently came up with?"

"A game about wealth, luck, and wisdom."

""