Chapter 155: Chapter 155
Along with the newspaper in his mailbox, Jenkins found several letters. One was a reply from Miss Mary, his pen pal from the distant kingdom of ice and snow, who had sent a large package this time. The others were bills and fan mail forwarded by his publisher.
With the publication of the *Stranger's Story Collection* across the kingdom, fairy tales had become a hot topic among intellectuals—or at least, the ladies and gentlemen who fancied themselves as such. Perhaps a world without the internet or television was simply too dull. Operas, concerts, and horse races weren't enough to satisfy the intellectual appetites of the idle minor nobility and burgeoning middle class, making reading an excellent way to pass the time.
According to the *Nolan Daily*'s coverage, the name Jenkins Williams had been shining brightly for the past few weeks, and it looked as if he was about to make a fortune.
"I wonder when I'll finally be able to stop worrying about gold pounds."
He sighed, full of hope, but the thought of the costly ritual materials and the even more exorbitant Series A, B, and C items quickly brought him back to reality. Life was full of pressure.
"It's better to be a cat."
Chocolate gazed at Jenkins, confused, then gently rubbed his furry cheek against the back of his hand. Official source ıs novelFirｅ.net
There wasn't much of interest in the newspaper, so Jenkins set it aside after a brief glance. He hesitated for a moment, torn between the fan mail and Miss Mary's package, before deciding to open the letters first.
The postmarks and colorful stamps showed that the letters had come from all corners of the kingdom. Most were simply from readers expressing their love for his book. The praise was so effusive it made him cringe, so we shall spare the details.
Two letters requested that Jenkins rewrite the "Mermaid" story. The readers disliked the tragic ending; even if the mermaid couldn't be with the prince, they pleaded, she shouldn't have to die.
Jenkins understood their feelings but had no intention of changing the ending. He would, however, write a thoughtful reply to both, explaining his perspective on tragedy.
There was also a fair share of letters, much like the last batch, filled with baffling metaphors and strange rhetorical flourishes. Perhaps it was some new literary trend or an allegory he simply didn't grasp. But he simply couldn't comprehend why young ladies with such elegant penmanship would write long, nonsensical poems with such a breathless passion.
Although he had published a book in this world, Jenkins's literary sensibilities (from another world) weren't yet attuned enough to fully grasp the meaning of such poems. The enthusiastic readers were likely trying to convey some intense emotion, but unfortunately, the sentiment was lost on him for now.
"Perhaps I can ask Miss Hersha to take a look."
He thought to himself, gathering the few letters he had hastily opened. He would read them more carefully later when he had the time.
He picked up the package from the chair, gently batting away Chocolate's inquisitive paws. It was wrapped in layer upon layer of waterproof kraft paper, with red cloth strips tied around the outside to hold it all together.
Jenkins snipped the cloth strips with a pair of scissors, only to realize they were silk.
"Just how wealthy is Miss Mary, anyway?"
He wondered in astonishment as he unwrapped the layers of paper. Inside were two brand-new books, still smelling of fresh ink, and a letter.
Instead of opening the letter, he picked up the books. One was titled *Probability and Mathematical Statistics*, the other, *A Brief Introduction to Higher Mathematics*.
The first book listed its primary author as "Anonymous," and the secondary author as Peter Pan Warren—that must be Miss Mary's tutor, Mr. Warren. A quick flip through the pages confirmed it contained the knowledge he had shared in his last letter. Clearly, however, Mr. Warren had organized and categorized the concepts, filling in the details where needed.
"Mr. Warren has quite a profound understanding of probability himself."
He murmured in appreciation and turned to the preface. The first paragraph read:
The primary author of this work provided most of its intellectual framework, filling a significant void in the contemporary study of probability. However, as that humble gentleman did not wish for his name to be made public, the editors have used "Anonymous" in its place. We thank Mr. J.W. once again. Your contributions to the field of probability will be remembered in the heart of every researcher.
He smiled and shook his head, flipping past the preface. The next pages listed others who had contributed to the book, besides the two main authors. There were many names, each credited with contributions to specific chapters, so Jenkins couldn't figure out which one might be Miss Mary.
Jenkins didn't recognize the two authors on the cover of *A Brief Introduction to Higher Mathematics*, but the diagram was unmistakable: the curvilinear trapezoid on a Cartesian coordinate system he had sketched to explain integration.
The title page bore a special note: a word of thanks to Mr. J.W. for his immense contribution to the book.
After looking through it for a while, Jenkins guessed this book must have been in the works for a long time. Perhaps Miss Mary's tutor, Mr. Warren, had shared Jenkins's letter with the authors, allowing them to enrich the book's content. That would explain why they had thanked him so prominently on the title page.
A strange sense of satisfaction washed over him. He gently traced the letters "J.W." on the page, a smile touching his lips. This was a small mark he had left on this world. Even a century from now, someone might remember a certain Mr. J.W.
His forehead began to grow faintly warm. Jenkins instinctively reached up to touch it, but then a cool current seemed to flow out from that very spot. The rush of Spirit quickly spread through his entire body.
"Is this... the Gift of the Sage?"
He wondered, feeling he was close to the truth. Could it be? The blessing he received upon becoming a Saint... was it the ability to gain Spirit by disseminating knowledge?
He thought it over and discarded the idea of simply transcribing more knowledge. If the essence of Spirit was to be in tune with the world, it was better to let things happen naturally. Forcing it would ruin the organic flow of it all.
In a world where the power of belief was real, it was best to let belief guide the way.
He opened the accompanying letter. It was written on the same fragrant, snow-white paper, in the same elegant, flowing script. If handwriting truly was a window to the soul, then Jenkins imagined Miss Mary might be the most beautiful woman he had ever known.