Fu Tinghan's gaze fell on her leg, and Zhao Hanzhang smiled and explained, "It's not a big problem, I'll be able to walk on it in a few days."
It's just a sprain and a bone fracture; it hardly hurts now and I can limp around. But first, I'm afraid of putting extra burden on the injured leg; second, limping looks unsightly; and third, it's purely for comfort, so I'd rather be carried than walk.
Zhao Hanzhang sat on the sedan chair while Fu Tinghan sat on a low stool, making conversation a bit inconvenient due to the distance.
Zhao Hanzhang gestured for him to come closer, and Fu Tinghan got up and walked over, looking down at her.
Zhao Hanzhang leaned in and quietly asked, "Why haven't you been talking? The steward mentioned you had a head injury?"
She looked worriedly at the bandage around his forehead and asked softly, "You… don't have his memories?"
Fu Tinghan listened to her words with a somewhat peculiar expression, "Teacher Zhao, you speak Classical Chinese?"
And such pure Classical Chinese at that.
He also lowered his voice and said, "I have memories. If I consciously try, most of them slowly emerge. Unconsciously, when I see familiar people, related memories come up as well, but..."
"But having memories doesn't mean I can immediately have everything of his," Fu Tinghan said. "I tried speaking, but the accent is very different."
Because I have the memories, I can understand them, and given that China's Classical Chinese isn't too different, with so many students under me from all over the country, I've heard various local dialects and accents.
Zhao Hanzhang smiled, "Professor Fu forgot what I initially taught at school?"
Fu Tinghan: ... He forgot that this Teacher Zhao was a music teacher. Although she taught piano, she seemed to really enjoy language subjects. She not only spoke French and German but reportedly learned Russian in two years while hosting a Russian exchange student.
Even without knowing Russian Braille, communication was not a problem.
"Teacher Zhao, that's impressive."
Zhao Hanzhang explained, "My ancestral home is Luoyang, and I lived with my grandfather when I was a child. Although there are some differences in pronunciation, having memories made it quick to adapt."
After waking up, she had been silent in bed for several days.
Fu Tinghan moved a bit closer to the sedan chair, lowered his voice, and asked, "Does Teacher Zhao have any suggestions for me to start speaking soon?"
Lately, everyone has treated me like a fool, and it's actually been quite uncomfortable.
Zhao Hanzhang sympatheticly told him, "I told my family that I've lost my memory."
Fu Tinghan said, "Memory loss… wouldn't include forgetting familiar languages, would it?"
"No, it wouldn't," Zhao Hanzhang laughed, "So I'm sorry for Professor Fu, but we can find opportunities to meet, and I can teach you."
She said, "Relying solely on an Attendant Student reading to familiarize with Classical Chinese isn't enough. You need to open your mouth and speak to really correct it."
Fu Tinghan nodded.
The steward felt they had been talking for too long and couldn't help but peek in from the courtyard entrance, only to see their Mr. Fu leaning close to Third Lady Zhao's sedan chair, speaking quietly, much to his surprise.
Mr. Fu and Third Lady Zhao so intimate?
No way, no way, is our Mr. Fu speaking now?
He couldn't resist leaning in a bit more, straining his ears, but the distance was too great, and despite their soft tones, he couldn't hear a word.
Ting He resisted but eventually couldn't hold back, running over from the other side to pull the steward back.
The steward smiled flatteringly at Ting He and quietly asked, "Young lady, did your Third Lady have previous ties with our Mr. Fu?"
"No!" Ting He outright denied, striving to clear Third Lady Zhao's name, "Our Third Lady only heard about Mr. Fu yesterday from the chief."
Such boldness, just coming directly like this?
The steward's heart quivered. If this marriage were to succeed, how formidable would our future mistress need to be?
Zhao Hanzhang was still conspiring with Fu Tinghan, "…I just checked by the city gate, and nothing out of the ordinary. We suddenly appeared there; if we were to return, it should also be from there, right?"
Fu Tinghan smiled wryly, "Teacher Zhao, this isn't mathematics. It's already in the realm of metaphysics. I've been considering this for some time, suspecting it's related to the earthquake and celestial phenomena back then. If it's soul exchange under equivalent conditions, then we at least need to replicate the seismic and celestial conditions. But first, we don't have the specific values from back then, and second, under current conditions, it's hard to create micro-variable energy values. So I don't have high hopes of returning, but we'll work towards it and hope for some luck."
Zhao Hanzhang's attention lingered on another term, "Soul exchange? You're saying..."
Fu Tinghan nodded, "Correct, I suspect those two people are the same as us."
Zhao Hanzhang sat up straight, "What led you to that conclusion?"
"Our experiences have proven that space-time truly exists, so I've defined it as a quantity. We are within this quantity. Since space-time exchange involves moving from one quantity to another, similarly, this quantity also needs a corresponding amount to pass through, or else it would be unbalanced."
Zhao Hanzhang: "So two souls..."
"In mathematics, even a fraction's decimal point value makes a huge difference. You remember the butterfly effect? I think quantity would not let itself become unbalanced."
Zhao Hanzhang: "So Professor Fu is personifying the quantity?"
Fu Tinghan just smiled without speaking.
Zhao Hanzhang directly believed in his conclusion, drumming the handle and lost in thought, "In that case, who knows if they are still alive, and also..."
"Moreover, if we experience variables sufficient for an exchange on our side, but they don't simultaneously occur on their side, do we have the chance to switch back, or do we simply die?"
Zhao Hanzhang suddenly asked, "So many people die here every day; don't these quantities just disappear?"
Fu Tinghan shook his head, "No, death isn't disappearance."
Zhao Hanzhang: "They say that the end of mathematics is metaphysics; will Professor Fu believe in metaphysics in the future?"
Fu Tinghan looked down at her and said, "We're standing here now, but I don't believe."
Zhao Hanzhang: ...
Zhao Hanzhang so easily believed in Fu Tinghan's deduction and began to worry, "The elevator descended so quickly back then; I wonder how our... their bodies are now. Zhao Hezhen is just a 14-year-old girl and suddenly goes blind..."
Zhao Hanzhang sighed, too pitiful; not only would she have aged 14 years in an instant, but she'd also suddenly go blind. Waking up in a strange world, unable to see, there could even be severe injuries.
Zhao Hanzhang felt a bit agitated, "Professor Fu, we must find a way to return quickly."
Fu Tinghan certainly wanted to return, but he believed it was unlikely. He'd been contemplating and reasoning, not believing they had a chance of returning; the variables were too large.
However, seeing the cold look on Zhao Hanzhang's face, he softened his tone, "I'll do my best, and you don't have to worry too much. In the modern world, at least they can receive the best medical treatment, and there are schools and Professor Fang and the others as well."
Even if their bodies and souls have problems, the two of them could still receive great care.
Besides, both families are quite well-off.
Zhao Hanzhang furrowed her brows, looked up, and asked, "Does Professor Fu have close relatives?"
Professor Fu's smile faintly diminished, "No, my parents died early."
Zhao Hanzhang: "What a coincidence, mine too."
Professor Fu quietly said, "I know."