1836: I Became a Literary Giant in Great Britain

The journey from London to Newmarkt by horse-drawn carriage takes nearly four hours.

Inside the carriage, Dickens was clearly filled with fantasies about the upcoming horse racing trip.

He recounted at length the stories of various legendary horses and genius riders he had heard...

"I've heard of a racehorse named 'Eclipse' that has never lost in its entire life! Its heart is said to be twice the size of an ordinary horse's!"

Michelle listened with a smile as Dickens continued his eloquent narration.

He had heard of this horse before; it was a legendary racehorse from the 18th century, named after the fact that it was born during a solar eclipse.

It debuted at the age of 5 and won all 18 matches! Ultimately, due to a lack of opponents willing to challenge it, it had to retire early...

After its death, an autopsy revealed that its heart weighed a staggering 6.4 kilograms! That's twice the weight of an average racehorse's!

This horse, as a stallion, founded the Eclipse paternal lineage, and in Michel's time, over 90% of Thoroughbreds could trace their lineage back to it...

Its offspring have won numerous classic races, making it fair to say that a single horse laid the foundation for the modern British horse racing breeding system...

Michael scoffed at this: "That's all nonsense the bookmakers make up to trick you laymen into betting. On the racetrack, the most important thing isn't the horse, nor the jockey."

"What is that?" Michelle asked curiously.

"It's information."

Michael wagged his finger smugly.

"Which horse is in poor condition lately, which rider drank too much last night, which horse owner is heavily in debt and urgently needs money... these are the key factors that determine the outcome."

As expected of an editor-in-chief with a journalism background, Michael's words made perfect sense.

Michelle smiled and remained silent as she listened to their argument.

He knew that Dickens represented romantic passion, while Michael represented realistic calculation.

Perhaps it is these two factors that together constitute the unique charm of horse racing...

When the carriage finally arrived in Newmarkt, the three of them stepped off and immediately felt an atmosphere completely different from that of London.

Gone was the smell of coal smoke from the industrial area; the air was filled with the scents of grass, earth, and the distinctive aroma of horses, blending together to create a vibrant, primal atmosphere...

This is the heart of British horse racing, the birthplace of countless legends.

As early as the 13th century, it obtained a royal charter for the marketplace, and later it was completely transformed into a racetrack town because Charles II was keen on horse racing.

Yes, that's the famous Charles II, the Merry King.

As for why he's called "King of Pleasure"?

One joke says it all.

A day in the life of Charles II: beer in the morning, horse racing at noon, mistresses in the evening, and theater in the early morning—he was so happy that he forgot he was the king.

He himself joked, "I'm smarter than my father—he lost his head for the crown, while I lost my crown for my head."

Hmm... his father was the one Cromwell beheaded...

Looking out, horses gallop across the vast training ground.

The horses, driven by their riders, gallop freely, displaying a powerful sense of strength and speed.

Michael was clearly a regular here; he skillfully led the two through the noisy crowd to a racetrack that looked quite professional.

A slightly overweight, middle-aged man with a small mustache, who looked shrewd and capable, warmly greeted us.

"Michael, my old friend, it's been a long time!"

"Jimmy, let me introduce you. These two are my friends, and also London's most famous writers, Charles and Michel."

Michael made the introductions to them.

"This is Jimmy, one of Newmarket's best horse brokers."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, gentlemen."

Jimmy shook hands with them warmly, his gaze lingering on Michelle for a moment longer.

"Mr. Dickens! Your *The Pickwick Biographies* is truly excellent!"

"Mr. Michel? Is he the poet who wrote 'When You Are Old'?"

Michelle hadn't expected her fame to have reached this far, so she could only nod modestly.

"Oh my goodness! My wife is one of your most devoted readers! She'd be green with envy if she knew I'd met you in person!"

Jimmy seemed unusually excited.

After exchanging pleasantries, the conversation quickly returned to the topic of horse racing itself.

Jimmy led them to the betting area, pointed to the information on the participating horses hanging on the wall, and began to introduce them in great detail.

"The biggest favorite in today's training match is horse number 3, 'Duke.' It has a noble lineage, with a sire who is a former derby champion, and a seasoned rider, but the odds are only 1 to 1.5. Although the odds aren't high, it's a very solid pick..."

"There's also horse number 5, 'Lightning.' Although it's a new horse, it has tremendous explosive power. It pulled off a major upset by finishing second in the last race. The odds are 4 to 1, so it's worth a gamble..."

Jimmy truly lives up to his reputation as one of Newmarket's best horse brokers, effortlessly gathering all sorts of information.

In just a few simple sentences, the situation of the most popular racehorses was explained clearly.

After listening to Jimmy's explanation, the three of them began to study it seriously.

"I'll choose 'The Duke'," Dickens quickly decided.

He pointed to the section on the information board about the 'Duke' lineage.

"I believe in the power of bloodline; great bloodlines can always create miracles."

"Besides, its birth date is my lucky number..."

While Dickens's betting may seem mystical, in fact, superstition was extremely prevalent in British horse racing in 1837, practically a mainstream phenomenon.

For example, the numbers and the colors of the horses all have specific meanings...

Number 13 is considered extremely unlucky. Stables, jockeys, and gamblers will all try their best to avoid gate number 13 or any other numbered gate.

Not only the numbers, but even the colors have significance...

The prevailing opinion is that "gray horses don't win big races," and horses with names containing Red, Crimson, or Ruby are naturally more sought after.

Furthermore, once a racehorse is registered and named, it cannot be changed for life. Changing its name is considered to bring bad luck and injury, which is a major taboo for horse owners.

It can be said that metaphysics is part of the betting logic, and even more influential on choices than bloodline, physical condition, or odds!

His mystical horse-picking method immediately drew ridicule from Michael.

"Charles, are you writing a novel?"

Michael shook his head.

"The more popular a horse is, the easier it is to manipulate. If everyone is optimistic about it, how can the bookmakers make money?"

"I'm going to do the opposite; I'll choose horse number 7, 'Veteran'."

"Veteran" is a very old racehorse with odds as high as 1 to 10, and almost no one is optimistic about it.

"Oh? Why is that?" Michelle asked, somewhat curious.

"Because it goes unnoticed," Michael explained.

"These forgotten horses are less likely to be tampered with, so they might just surprise us."

Jimmy, standing nearby, nodded in agreement with Michael's logic. Although the risks were high, it was indeed a viable approach.

Only Michelle hasn't placed her bet yet.

Michel was not in a hurry. He walked around the pre-race preparation area, carefully observing each horse that was about to compete.

Finally, he stopped in front of a seemingly unremarkable brown horse.

This horse is called "Wanderer". The information board has very little about it, only saying that it comes from an unknown small horse farm, and the odds are the highest in the game, 20 to 1!

"I'll choose it, number 11, 'The Wanderer'."

Michelle returned to the betting station and said calmly.

This choice surprised everyone.

"Michelle, are you sure?" Dickens leaned closer and whispered.

"This horse looks... a bit listless."

Jimmy couldn't help but advise, "Mr. Michel, if I may be so bold, your choice... is completely unreasonable. 'Wanderer' has a very ordinary physique and lineage, and the rider is a novice. It would be good enough if it could even finish the entire course."

"It's alright, just like Charles, I find this horse pleasing to the eye."

Michelle didn't explain much, but simply smiled and handed over her bet.

He trusted his judgment, and besides, the stakes were nothing to him.

Horse racing is all about the thrill and excitement...

All three of them placed a single bet of one guinea, which was neither a large nor a small amount.

Michelle placed her bet because she noticed some details that others had missed.

Although the horse named "Wanderer" looked calm, its muscles were taut and its eyes held a suppressed excitement.

More importantly, the young rider displayed an almost obsessive confidence as he stroked the horse's neck.

It was a tacit understanding of complete trust between man and horse.

Based on that alone, Michelle took the gamble!

After the betting ended, the three men each took their receipts and went up to the small stands.

The melodious horn sounded, and the racehorses entered the track one after another.

With a gunshot, more than a dozen horses shot out of the fence like arrows.

The competition has officially begun!