1836: I Became a Literary Giant in Great Britain

While the whole of London was captivated by "A Study in Scarlet," Michel found himself with a rare moment of leisure.

In the attic of the Cohen Street apartment, Michelle carefully examined the huge check she had just received.

Under the dim light of the tallow lamp, the number one hundred pounds appeared exceptionally clear.

Although it was just a thin piece of paper, Michelle knew its weight deeply.

It not only represents a huge sum of money, but also that he finally has the right to choose in this era!

Michel was not swayed by Bentley's praise; on the contrary, he remained unusually calm.

"A Study in Scarlet" became a sensation, an absolute sensation.

But what does this have to do with him?

After winning his bet with Bentley and receiving a hefty £100 in royalties, the continuation of "The Bentley Notebooks" was no longer his concern.

According to the contract he signed with Bentley, he received a one-time payment. No matter how many copies the magazine sold, even 100,000, not a single penny would end up in his pocket.

He knew very well that he couldn't get rich working for someone else. If he wanted to make a fortune, he had to go it alone.

However, that's for the future; he's not prepared at all right now.

As for now...

Michelle looked around; the walls of the attic were covered in suspicious mold, and the stuffy smell in the air made her drowsy.

Even though it was daytime, it looked almost like night because there were no windows.

Michelle strongly suspects that the tuberculosis, pneumonia, or cholera that is raging in London has already started a party in her own cottage.

It seems that my most important thing right now is to save my life and quickly move to a different apartment.

He no longer wanted to be on guard against "gifts from the sky" every time he went out, no longer wanted to walk with his back bent in his room, and no longer wanted to be woken up by the noise of the downstairs neighbors every morning.

He wants to move to a different place.

A real place that can be called "home"!

He straightened his clothes and walked out of the attic.

He had just reached the second floor when he bumped into Mrs. Marshall, the landlady, who was about to go upstairs.

Mrs. Marshall was taken aback when she saw him, but then a respectful expression appeared on her plump face.

"Good morning, Michelle!"

Good morning, Mrs. Marshall.

Michelle gave a brief greeting and also gave the landlady a heads-up.

"Mrs. Marshall, I'm planning to move out soon."

"Ah? Moving out?" Although the landlady had long anticipated this outcome, she didn't expect the day to come so soon, and her tone carried a hint of pleading.

"Actually... if you have the money, this attic isn't unlivable. I... I can lower the rent for you, or move you to a bigger room."

"Thank you for your kindness, but it's not necessary."

Michelle smiled and replied gently to the landlady.

He knew that this seemingly fierce landlady wasn't a bad person; she was just an ordinary person struggling to breathe under the weight of life. She had a sharp tongue but a kind heart; although she was fierce every time she demanded rent, she always gave him a considerable amount of time.

Even in the 21st century, falling behind on rent is not an easy thing. Let alone in 1837.

But there is absolutely no way he can live here anymore.

This is not just a matter of living conditions; it concerns his life.

After all, those who know, know the limitations of medical care in this era.

After saying goodbye to his landlady, whose face was full of surprise, Michel walked out of the dilapidated apartment building where he had lived for several years with a relaxed feeling.

He first went to the post office and sent fifty pounds to his family in the countryside.

This money is enough to pay off all the family's debts.

After doing all that, he still had over seventy pounds left in his pocket.

This was a reassuring deposit, and it gave him the confidence to look for a house.

Generally speaking, in London during that era, there were roughly the following ways to rent a house.

Newspaper advertisements, real estate agencies, street posters, and referrals from acquaintances.

Doesn't it look familiar...?

Michelle also considered asking Michael or Dickens.

But after thinking about it, he decided to try to find it himself.

After all, he didn't know if Britain was also a place where "strangers are charged a price, while acquaintances are exploited with tears in their eyes."

Let's take a look at the newspaper first.

Michelle bought the latest copy of The Times and sat in a fairly clean café, carefully flipping through the rental information.

His goal was very clear.

First and foremost, the location can't be bad. No matter how much money you offer, he wouldn't want to go back to places like East London.

Secondly, the apartment's facilities must be up-to-date. Typically, the most fashionable and modern apartments of this era are equipped with gas lighting and running water, and a kitchen boiler. As for en-suite bathrooms, only a very small percentage are equipped with…

Most people still rely on chamber pots...

Michelle had thought it through very clearly.

Gas lamps and running water are the bare minimum; having a separate indoor bathroom would be ideal.

After all, if he continued writing under the lamplight, even if his eyes didn't go blind, his nose would be suffocated by the smoke...

Soon, a message caught his attention.

"Luxury apartment for rent in Bloomsbury. Adjacent to the British Museum and University College London, elegant environment, safe neighborhood. Three bedrooms, one living room, gas lighting throughout, running water and boiler in the kitchen, ensuite bathroom. Available immediately, for gentlemen of good character only. Price negotiable."

Bloomsbury District!

Michelle's eyes lit up.

He knew this place; it was a renowned cultural and academic center of London, a gathering place for the middle class and intellectuals. It was quiet, clean, and had a strong cultural atmosphere.

It's not far from Fleet Street and Dowdy Street, where Dickens's house was located...

More importantly, the apartment's amenities were practically tailor-made for him!

A separate study is so important to him, someone who needs to write.

Gas lamps, running water, kitchen boilers, indoor toilets... these things that were standard in the previous life are now absolute luxuries.

That's it!

Michelle folded the newspaper with the news printed on it, noted down the address, finished the last sip of her coffee, and got up to walk toward Bloomsbury.

The journey from the coffee shop to Bloomsbury felt like traveling between two worlds.

The streets grew wider and cleaner. The pungent smell of coal smoke and decay gradually disappeared, replaced by a faint scent of perfume and cigars.

The pedestrians on the street were well-dressed and elegant, a stark contrast to the residents of the eastern district who were hurrying around and looked pale.

Michelle quickly found the apartment mentioned in the newspaper.

This is a late Georgian townhouse complex with a large front garden and gleaming black wrought iron railings. Just standing outside, you can feel a sense of order that is completely different from the East End.

Michelle straightened her collar, stepped forward, and knocked on the door.

Yes, he had previously bought a decent secondhand jacket. It cost him quite a bit of money.

After all, clothes make the man, and social class is something you wear on your body; he didn't want to be shut out because of his appearance.

Otherwise, such a plot would be too cliché. He had seen it in countless online novels in his previous life.

The person who opened the door was a middle-aged man dressed in a presentable uniform with his hair neatly combed; he appeared to be the apartment manager.

The manager looked Michel up and down. Although the wool coat Michel was wearing was made of good material, its style and texture were clearly different from those of a true gentleman in high society.

"Hello sir, what can I do for you?" The manager's tone was polite, but carried a hint of detachment.

"Hello, I saw the rental listing in The Times and I'd like to see the apartment," Michelle said with a smile.

"Oh? To view a room?" The manager raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Do you have any letters of recommendation?"

"Letters of recommendation?"

Michelle was stunned.

What is this? I'm just renting a place, why do I need a letter of recommendation?

Seeing the confusion on Michelle's face, the manager's expression softened with a knowing disdain.

"Yes, sir. As we stated in the newspaper, accommodation is limited to gentlemen of good reputation only. To ensure the quality and safety of our apartment residents, we only accept tenants with referrals. Ideally, the referrer would be a professor from your college, a lawyer you work for, or a gentleman with a title."

"We must ensure the safety of every resident living here."

The meaning behind his words couldn't be clearer.

Money is not the only passport here.

They also need identity.

Michelle's smile faded.

For the first time in this era, he felt the barriers beyond money.

"Sorry, I didn't."

"That's a real shame." The manager's reply was flat and emotionless, as if he had repeated it countless times.

He made a "please" gesture, then slammed the door shut without hesitation, shutting Michelle out.

Michelle stood on the clean and tidy street, staring at the tightly closed, gleaming painted door, and remained silent for a long time.

It seems that having money is far from enough to live a decent life in this era.

He needs an "identity".

PS:

Thank you "Shu Arthur" for the 600 coins!

Thank you to "Book Friend 20250706100900051" for the 100-point reward!

感谢「小神」的3张月票、「修亚瑟」的2张月票、「书友20170802064848621」的1张月票、「书友20230520112516094」的1张月票~

Here's a 3-word chapter! Please keep reading!