1836: I Became a Literary Giant in Great Britain

With the debate with Professor Campbell over, and the inaugural issue of *Bentley's Notebooks* not yet published, Michelle enjoyed a rare period of leisure.

Even after sending £50 home, he still had enough for living expenses and didn't have to worry about making a living for the time being.

This allowed him to finally break free from his tense state and experience London in this era.

But clearly, his "coffin room" in the attic was not a place to relax.

Just as Michelle was considering whether to go out for a stroll, she heard a louder noise downstairs than usual.

Unlike the usual hustle and bustle, today's noise was mixed with the excited laughter of women and the clinking of teacups.

Michelle remembered that today was Mrs. Marshall's monthly tea party.

The so-called tea party was really just a few neighbors getting together to share some cheap tea and biscuits and exchange gossip they had heard recently.

For them, living at the bottom of society, this is already a rare form of entertainment and social activity.

Michelle hadn't planned to participate, but the attic was unbearably stuffy. He decided to go downstairs to the kitchen to get some water and get some fresh air.

........

On the first floor of the apartment, the other tenants were already seated at a large rectangular table.

Although the wooden table was old and had stains of unknown origin, it still looked quite sturdy.

On the table were some oat biscuits, mashed potatoes, and a rather unappetizing soup, with a small, tempting piece of roast meat in the very center.

Of course, considering the number of people at the tea party, this piece of roast meat was more of a decoration.

Just taste the meat. Hmm, the landlady's meals are quite good, with both meat and vegetables.

Oh, and everyone also gets a cup of black tea.

In Britain at that time, drinking tea was a national pastime.

Of course, the tea prepared by the landlady was the worst kind.

It is a "mixed tea" made from tea fragments, tea dust, willow bark, and hawthorn leaves.

The landlady, with her robust figure, occupied the main seat. Today, she had unusually changed into a gorgeously decorated dress and was talking animatedly about some nobleman's romantic affairs, which she had heard from who-knows-where.

Opposite her sat Mrs. Green and her daughter Emily, who lived on the second floor.

Mrs. Green was a thin woman with a perpetually lingering sorrow on her face. But today, she seemed unusually excited, listening intently to the landlady's story, occasionally letting out an exaggerated gasp.

He's the perfect straight man.

Her daughter, Emily, sat quietly beside her, her small body huddled in the chair, holding an oat cookie in her hands, nibbling on it little by little. Her eyes would occasionally glance timidly around.

The other guest was Mr. Hansen, who lived on the first floor. He had gray hair but was in good spirits. He simply held his teacup, listened silently, occasionally chiming in, but mostly observing the tea leaves floating in his cup.

"...You wouldn't believe it, that countess kicked the door open and caught the count and that actress right there! My God, the scene..."

The landlady's tone was so vivid, as if she were the very door that had been kicked open.

After recounting this romantic tale, she basked in the gasps of astonishment from the crowd.

"Speaking of which, Mrs. Green, you look great today. Is there some good news?"

Mrs. Green, whose name was called, immediately straightened her back, and the slight sorrow on her face was replaced by a deliberate show of pride.

"Oh, it's nothing serious."

She waved her hand dismissively, but raised her voice several octaves to make sure everyone present could hear her.

"My good-for-nothing nephew, Malfoy, has finally done something decent lately."

She carefully took a newspaper out of her cloth bag; it was the latest issue of the London Express.

"Everyone's been talking about this newspaper lately, hasn't they? It's the hottest topic in all of London right now!"

Mr. Hansen nodded: "Of course, the recent articles in this newspaper are indeed excellent, especially that Mr. Michel, his debate with Professor Campbell, it was simply..."

"Speaking of which, this Mr. Michelle shares the same name as our apartment's little Michelle..."

"Ahem!" Mrs. Green coughed twice, interrupting Mr. Hansen.

She gave Mr. Hansen a disapproving look, then spread the newspaper out on the table and pointed to one of the less noticeable pages.

"My nephew Malfoy published an article on it!" Her voice was full of pride.

"Although it's just a small piece of writing, it's the *London Express*! The editor himself said it: my nephew is very talented and has a bright future!"

"Oh? Really? That's amazing!" The landlady immediately chimed in, squinting as she read the article.

Mr. Hansen also politely leaned over.

Emily looked on with curiosity at the unprecedented look on her mother's face.

Mrs. Green enjoyed the attention she received, and the wrinkles on her face smoothed out.

"The editor also said that Malfoy can work at the newspaper first, and they'll consider starting a column for my nephew next month! Then he'll be a real writer!"

She got more and more excited as she spoke: "My nephew said that once he becomes famous, he'll take us to live in the West District, and we won't have to stay in this godforsaken place anymore!"

She glanced around the cramped living room, a hint of barely perceptible superiority in her voice.

It seems that this is already a fait accompli.

The landlady's smile froze for a moment, but she quickly returned to normal.

Look at you, putting on an act.

But the name "London Express" sounded familiar to her. Wasn't that the newspaper Michelle had mentioned before?

She picked up her teacup, took a sip, and with a playful smile, slowly began to speak.

"It's quite a coincidence, actually. There seems to be a writer in our building who contributes to the London Express."

Her voice wasn't loud, but it sounded like a resounding slap.

The atmosphere at the dinner table suddenly became somewhat awkward.

Mrs. Green's boastful voice came to an abrupt halt, and the smug smile on her face froze. She looked at the landlady suspiciously, as if trying to guess the meaning behind her words.

"Mrs. Marshall, what do you mean by this?"

"Besides my nephew, who else in this building can write for the London Express?"

Her tone was annoyed.

In her view, everyone living in this dilapidated apartment was a poor person struggling on the poverty line, just like her family. How could a writer possibly be contributing to the renowned *London Express*?

Hmm, they must be lying to me, they don't want to see me so happy.

The landlady took another sip of tea and glanced at the stairwell out of the corner of her eye.

"Who else could it be? It's Michelle LeBlanc, the only college student in our apartment building."

"he?"

Mrs. Green scoffed as if she had heard the funniest joke.

"Mrs. Marshall, you must have been fooled. Him? A poor student who can't even pay his rent, writing for the London Express?"