I control the AI ​​empire thanks to the geniuses in my group.

Newton could stay up all night, but Su Zhou, a fragile modern junior high school student, can't.

He tried his best to persuade Newton to stay.

Although Newton wanted to roll it up, because of Su Zhou, he could only reluctantly put down the draft paper with the bar graph drawn on it and take Su Zhou to wash up.

Newton, carrying a brass candlestick, led Su Zhou through the dim and cold corridor to the washroom.

Having grown accustomed to a constant-temperature water heater, toothbrush, and face wash, Su Zhou soon faced his first harsh reality check after transmigrating.

In 1697 London, not every household had running water.

The good news is that Newton had one at home.

The bad news is that the water is cold.

On the washstand, there was only a large porcelain basin with a chipped edge and a heavy painted pottery water jug.

Newton rolled up his coat sleeves and put cold water into the basin.

The moment the water touched the back of his hand, Su Zhou shuddered violently.

This was a 17th-century English winter during the Little Ice Age; this water was even colder than ice-cold Sprite.

It's refreshingly cool.

"Just make do with it."

Newton tossed a dark yellow solid onto the sink: "This is soap made by boiling butter and wood ash; it's very effective at removing dirt."

Su Zhou leaned closer and took a sniff. A strong, pungent smell of animal fat mixed with an indescribable sourness hit him right in the head.

He silently withdrew his hand, deciding that he would just wash his face with water today.

Then, Newton handed over a grayish-white cloth.

As soon as Su Zhou wiped her face, tears welled up in her eyes. Rubbing the cloth on her face a couple of times gave her the illusion of polishing and buffing her skin.

"Um... Mr. Newton, do you have a toothbrush?" Su Zhou asked hesitantly.

Newton gave him a strange look, then turned around, took a small wooden box from the shelf, opened the lid, and found it filled with a grayish-white, coarse powder.

Then, the great Newton tore off a clean strip of linen from the side, skillfully wrapped it around his right index finger, and dipped it in a little powder.

"Brushes made from pig neck hair are stiff and shed a lot. They're the kind of things those vain fools in the French court would use. They don't clean well and they'll make your gums bleed."

As he spoke, Newton put his fingers, which were wrapped in cloth, into his mouth and rubbed them vigorously up and down: "Coarse salt mixed with ground cuttlefish bone and coral powder, along with a clean cloth, is the best way to clean teeth in accordance with the principle of friction."

Su Zhou stood there, stunned.

This is so natural!

However, in an era when the average lifespan was less than forty years and rotten teeth and scurvy were rampant, the fact that Newton, at fifty-four, had such white teeth suggests that the method was indeed effective.

Since he was already there, Su Zhou had no choice but to obediently admit defeat.

A few minutes later, Su Zhou, who had finished washing up, had lips that were purple from the cold and gums that were aching from the coarse salt. Newton led her to a spare small guest room, while Su Zhou, with a hint of regret, looked back several times as she returned to her bedroom.

Su Zhou pushed open the wooden door of the small guest room, and the smell of old, stale wood unceremoniously seeped into every pore of his body.

The room was cramped, with a single solid wood bed squeezed into the corner and a bare wardrobe next to it. There wasn't even a decent washbasin, but there was a chamber pot tucked under the bed.

London winters are eerily cold; the damp chill seeps in through the cracks of the thin wooden lattice windows, scraping against your face like ice daggers.

Su Zhou no longer cared about the rough, yellowed linen sheets. He took off his coat, lay down on the hard wooden bed, pulled over the thick wool blanket that still smelled of mutton, and wrapped himself up tightly like a silkworm cocoon.

The room was pitch black, with no candles lit.

It was very quiet outside, with only the occasional sound of the night watchman's clapper and the creaking of a carriage wheel over the cobblestone street from who knows how far away.

Su Zhou remembered the condition for returning: he could only go back if he fulfilled Newton's wish.

Newton's wish was for Charonna to personally experience gravity on the gallows.

I think so?

Su Zhou stared at the ceiling that had disappeared into the darkness, exhaled a long puff of white mist, and closed his eyes.

……

"Bang bang bang! Bang bang bang!"

Su Zhou was dreaming of eating fish-flavored eggplant and double-pepper fish in her warm home when she was abruptly pulled from her dream by a series of urgent knocks that seemed to shatter the thin wooden door.

He groggily opened his eyes and found that it was still pitch black outside the window, without even a hint of dawn. The St. Paul's Cathedral in the distance hadn't even rung its morning bells yet.

"Who is it..." Su Zhou cried out in pain, his hair disheveled.

He struggled to get out of his warm bed, shivering from the cold, and after putting on his shoes, he yanked open the door.

A cold wind blew in through the cracks in the door.

Outside the door stood the great Newton.

The 54-year-old scientific giant held a brass candlestick in one hand and a finely crafted mechanical pocket watch aloft in the other, its cover already popped open.

Good morning, Sue.

An excited Newton glanced down at his pocket watch: "It's 5:35 a.m. London time."

Su Zhou stared blankly at him, then turned to look at the dark night outside the window, where there wasn't a soul in sight, and her mind went blank.

"Mr. Newton...it's not even dawn yet!"

Su Zhou let out a desperate wail: "Even the donkeys in the production team don't get up this early!"

Newton snapped his pocket watch shut and said, "What kind of metaphor is that? Interesting."

"However, for a young person, your sleep time is enough to allow your body to recover to a level where you can engage in high-intensity mental work. Excessive sleep will only make your brain sluggish, which is a mistake that only lazy French nobles would make."

"Put on your coat, Sue, we're going to the mint. There's a lot of work to do."

Damn it, he's still a child!

He needs to sleep more!

Seeing Newton's battle-ready stance, as if he were ready to tear the counterfeit money seller apart at any moment, Su Zhou sighed in despair and silently grabbed his cold coat.

He now fully understands what it means to lift a rock only to drop it on your own foot. What's worse than no heating is being dragged into working yourself to the bone by your boss.

They quickly washed up and went out.

The coachman waiting at the door, probably used to Newton's schedule, suppressed the urge to yawn and invited them into the carriage.

After getting on the bus, Su Zhou huddled in the corner of the carriage, so sleepy that his head bobbed up and down like a chick pecking at rice. It wasn't until he got off the bus and looked at Lily's Restaurant in front of him that he realized something was wrong.

"Aren't we going to the mint?"

"A lack of food can indeed lead to a decline in brain processing power. It's best to eat something before starting work."

Su Zhou was stunned.

Sometimes when Lord Niu is busy, he doesn't even eat. Now he's making a point of eating breakfast?

Could it be because of me?

Su Zhou suddenly realized that this big shot, who was known in history books as eccentric, mean, and vengeful, still had a human touch.

"What are you standing there for? Follow me."

Newton skillfully pushed open the wooden door of the small restaurant with the old oak sign hanging in front of him.