I loaded the Mysticism panel.

The family had been waiting for a long time in the restaurant.

Evelyn put down her spoon when she saw him come in.

"Brother, why did you leave so early in the morning without me?"

"Imperial University does not allow unauthorized personnel to enter."

"I'm not a freeloader; I can wait for you outside."

"Wait outside the university all day?"

The little girl thought about the scene for a moment, and then realized it wasn't very interesting. She muttered something and buried her head back in the soup bowl.

Richard's mother glanced at him but didn't ask him what he was doing at the library.

She placed a piece of chicken drumstick on his plate: "Eat more, you must have been working hard today."

"Um."

His father ate his meal silently across from him, occasionally glancing up at him.

During his stay at the Ashford home, Rogers kept a very low profile.

He didn't interfere in the affairs between his father-in-law and son, nor did he try to get close to the Ashford family. He ate when he was supposed to eat and slept when he was supposed to sleep.

But every time his son came home, he would glance at the time on the living room clock.

This is to tell him that it's about time for our family to go back.

………………

The next morning, before leaving for the train station, Richard said goodbye to his grandfather in the living room.

Gerrard sat in his usual spot, waiting for him.

When do you plan to go back to Beijing next?

"We'll see," Richard said. "If everything goes well, you should be able to see me during the summer."

Gerald nodded, showing no surprise at his grandson's decision to return to Briston so soon.

"I've kept your room open for you. You can come anytime you want."

"Thank you, Grandfather."

Richard walked out of the Ashford mansion gates carrying his suitcase, the autumn wind blowing from the end of the street.

This trip to the capital city gave him a lot.

Gargoyles, competition prize money, Flower Moon Street, the Classical Society's recommended list, knowledge copied from the library, information revealed by Isabella... each of these things will slowly ferment in the days to come.

A family of four stood in the ticket hall of Beijing Central Station.

"Four second-class seats, to Bristol." Richard handed the money through the window.

His mother reached out to stop him, but he had already taken the tickets.

"Keep this money for later..."

"I bought it, and I can't return it."

Margaret watched as her son distributed the tickets to everyone, her lips moved, but she ultimately said nothing.

When the father took his ticket, he squeezed the paper.

Second-class tickets cost almost twice as much as third-class tickets one way, which adds up to a considerable sum for four people.

"I originally wanted to buy a first-class ticket," Richard said casually, unbuttoning his coat.

Evelyn was the first to jump in: "First class? Are you crazy? First class costs over a pound per person!"

The mother sided with her younger sister:

"Second-class seats are already very good; you could buy several books with the money you'd save from a first-class seat."

The father chimed in from the side:

"You earned those thirty pounds in the competition. You'll need money for many more things in the future if you spend it all now. If you're so extravagant now, you'll starve later."

The three men pressed him back down from three different angles, and their stories were remarkably consistent.

Richard noticed something: no one was suggesting that he use the money to supplement his household expenses.

Father didn't say anything, Mother didn't say anything, and Evelyn certainly didn't say anything either.

Thirty pounds is enough to cover the family's living expenses for a long time.

But all three of them had the same attitude: This is your money, take it and do something worthwhile.

Richard put away his ticket, picked up his suitcase, and walked toward the platform.

Second-class carriages are significantly better than third-class carriages.

The seat was a spring seat covered in cloth. Although the cloth was a bit worn and fuzzy, it was much more comfortable than the bare hardwood chairs of the third class.

There were no chicken coops, burlap sacks, or crammed passengers in the carriage, and the air was free of the smell of livestock and cheap tobacco.

Two rows of seats face each other, separated by a small folding table with a small metal ring on the table for holding teacups.

The windows are larger, the glass is cleaner, and there are even curtains on the window frames.

Evelyn's eyes darted around as she came in.

She first touched the fabric of the seat, then tested the spring's rebound force, and finally placed her hand on the folding table and pushed it.

"It's so much better than when I came here." She leaned back in her chair, satisfied.

The mother sat opposite her younger sister and helped her take off her coat and drape it over her knees.

The father sat down opposite Richard and, as usual, took out an old newspaper that he had somehow gotten his hands on.

The train slowly started moving, and the cast iron pillars on the platform receded one by one.

The skyline of the capital city slowly shrank within the window frame, with church spires, bell towers, and clusters of chimneys sinking below the horizon one after another.

Evelyn peered out the window for a while, but lost interest once the hills and pastures began to repeat themselves.

She had already seen the route once before coming, and she could guess what lay behind every bend.

Another meadow, another flock of sheep, another small station that never stops, and a dog squatting by the bench.

She pulled herself back out of the window and turned to talk to her brother next to her.

As soon as he opened his mouth, his mother across from him gently shook her head.

Evelyn followed her mother's gaze.

Richard's head was tilted slightly toward the window, his forehead pressed against the car window glass.

His eyes were closed, and his breathing was deep and slow; he was asleep.

The position of resting your forehead against the glass is actually not comfortable. Every time the train jolts, your head will hit the window frame.

But he didn't even flinch, and didn't wake up even after being knocked down.

Evelyn stared at her brother for a long time.

During his stay in the capital, Richard hardly had a moment to rest.

During the day, he's either preparing for the Cicero Cup or running off to do who-knows-what, and at night he has to study in his room until midnight.

Yesterday I spent the whole day in the library at Beijing University.

Today I finally boarded the train and sat in a relatively soft chair.

The rhythm of the wheels rolling over the rails was exactly that hypnotic frequency, and he couldn't hold on any longer.

"He must be very tired these past few days," Evelyn said in a low voice.

The mother nodded: "Let him sleep."

Evelyn placed her hands on her knees and suddenly realized she didn't know what to do.

I can't speak, I can't make too much noise, and I'm tired of looking at the scenery outside the window.

The girl could only lean against the back of the chair, bury her face in her arms, and close her eyes.

The carriage fell silent.

Only the clicking sound of wheels rolling over the seams of the rails remains, rhythmic and continuous.

Margaret stared blankly at the children sleeping side by side in front of her.

Outside the car window, the outline of the hills grew lower and lower, and the silhouettes of clusters of chimneys began to appear in the distance.

After passing through this factory area, Briston will be right in front of you.