A Reincarnator’s Guide: How to Survive a Victorian-ish Era

“Dang… the smog keeps getting worse, day after day,” Jade muttered under her breath as she and Josh took turns pulling the newly purchased second-hand handcart. By now, she had completely lost count of how many second-hand items she had bought – both for herself and for the projects meant to fund the school’s operation.

Velport’s air quality was so poor that the moment they crossed into the city boundary, visibility dropped shapely. Jade had to squint just to make out shapes more than forty yards away, the outlines of buildings blurring into greyish mass.

“It’ll be much worse in midwinter, Sensei,” Josh said. He was pulling the handcart now, while Jade walked beside him. The paved road made it easier to move the cart ,so she didn’t need to push from behind. “Once, I could barely see people ten feet ahead of me. I heard there were carriage crashes during those heavy fog days.”

Wouldn't anyone try to fix this? Jade grumbled inwardly. Where are the engineers? Aren’t they supposed to do something about it?

She swallowed the thought. This wasn’t a topic she could – or should – discuss with someone as young and unformed as Josh.

When they arrived, Mr. Davidson’s eyes lit up at the sight of the handcart. “Well now! Things seem to be improving for your project, Miss Jade?”

Jade patted the side of the cart proudly. “Got it for just a few shillings – thanks our dear Brother James and his very resourceful suggestions! Albeit ugly with the patches, but the wheels are still good. Good enough for us. Much faster to load everything on this and pull it here than carrying things on our back.”

The stall inside the grocer’s shop was small, far from ideal for storage. Each day, Jade and Josh had to haul the stove, the pot of tallow, and the leftovers back to the domus, then returned the next morning with freshly chopped potatoes. Sometimes, even the fabric curtain had to be brought back for cleaning. The handcart had eased their burden considerably, sparing their shoulders from constant strain.

“Indeed. Practicality is what matters most.” Mr. Davidson nodded, then sighed. “I do wish I could wear one of those face masks like you do, Miss Jade.”

“Why not?” Jade glanced at him as she began setting up the chip stall. “I don’t mind others wearing it. It’s not like I invented the idea.”

“Well…” Mr. Davidson rubbed his chin, brow furrowing. “Covering one’s face makes a person seem… suspicious.”

“Suspicious how?” Jade asked, genuinely puzzled. “It’s not like I plan to sabotage someone just because I’m wearing a face mask.”

“People may wonder why you’re concealing your face, Miss Jade,” Mr. Davidson replied. He had overheard customers whispering about it – though he explained that it was to block the foul air. Most accepted the reasoning, but none seemed particularly impressed by the idea.

Jade thought back to something she had read in her previous life, during the COVID lockdowns. Vaguely, she remembered reports claiming that not being able to see people’s faces made it harder to read expressions, which led to… some kind of mental issues. Or something like that.

Still–

“I’d rather look suspicious than damage my lungs,” Jade said, shrugging as she continued working. “Suspicion cost me nothing. Bad air quality costs me lungs I cannot take out and wash clean. I don’t want the end of my life to be lying in bed, coughing out dark-grey mucus every day.”

Both Josh and Mr. Davidson froze. Even a few passersby slowed, craning their necks to catch her words.

Josh blurted out, unable to stop himself. “Sensei… what do you mean by washing lungs? And how do you even know about dark-grey mucus?”

Jade shot him a look, her brows knitting together in clear confusion over why he would ask something so obvious. Still, she answered in a casual tone.

“Well, it’s a very simple connection. Anyone should be able to reach a similar conclusion,” she said. “You see how dark soot gathers inside a chimney after a whole day of burning coal, right? Things don’t just disappear. Soot accumulates there. So why wouldn’t the same thing accumulate in our lungs too?”

Josh’s expression remained blank.

Jade began gesturing with her hands. “Alright. Think of it this way: we eat, our body takes what it needs, and throws away what it doesn’t. That’s why we need to use the water closet. And when we eat something wrong, something our body doesn’t agree with, we vomit, we get diarrhea, we fall sick. Correct?”

Josh nodded hesitantly.

“Same principle applies to breathing,” Jade continued. “We take in the clear part of the air, and we get rid of the dirty part, the part our lungs don’t need. Still following me? Good.”

She tapped her chest, then her throat. “When we eat something bad, the stomach reacts. So when we breathe something bad, what kind of reaction would our lungs give us? Josh, use your common sense. Think.”

Josh answered immediately, “We cough. Or sneeze? Or feel choked.”

“Exactly.” Jade spread her hands. “Now, when our stomach wants to get rid of bad things, it uses water – vomit, diarrhea – to flush them out. But lungs don’t work like that. They don’t have a way to flush things out. They can only cough and choke to tell us they dislike what we’re breathing… Oh, and a runny nose doesn’t help much either, it only washes out the dirty parts in the nose, not the lungs.”

She tugged lightly at the edge of her mask. “I cough and choke. My body is telling me that it disagrees with the air here. So what I can do about it? I block the dirty part. You’ve seen how filthy this mask gets after just one day, haven’t you? That’s exactly what the mask had stopped from entering my lungs.”

Her voice lowered slightly. “If we already feel uncomfortable with this small amount, imagine what chimney sweepers breathe in every day. Just look at a clogged chimney, and imagine that happening inside your lungs.”

She paused, posing a question the same way she did in her classes. “Ever wonder why chimney sweepers so often end up with lung problems? Or die from lung failure?”

Jade ended her lecture, giving her apprentice time to digest the information, and turned back to her pot of tallow. That was the best explanation she could offer. She wasn’t a great educator like Confucius, nor a scholar, nor a physician. She had no duty to educate the world on health beyond ensuring her own apprentice’s well-being.

Miss Jade the schoolmistress didn’t care what others might say about her impromptu lesson. Still, several listeners lingered nearby, their faces thoughtful as they eventually drifted away.

Mr. Davidson shook his head and lowered his voice. “Miss Jade… that was a very bold statement. It may not do you much good.”

“I know,” Jade sighed. “I’m bad at controlling my mouth sometimes.”

This wasn't an era where one could speak freely without consequence. Being seen as strange – or worse – could lead to her social death, tarnish the domus’s reputation, and jeopardize her projects and livelihood all at once.

“Cold weather does me no good; my body just doesn’t agree with it.” She sighed. “I’m thinking of assigning one or two students to handle the selling in the future. Free myself from standing here all day. Honestly, my skills belong in the bakehouse, not at a stall. Though… it does help to hear feedback firsthand, and I can resolve any problems my students or customers bring to me.”

Mr. Davidson nodded in agreement. “I’m glad you’ve thought it through. Don’t worry, Miss Jade. I’ll keep an eye on things here in case the children need help.”

“Thank you, Mr. Davidson,” Jade said, dipping her head slightly. “Your kindness won’t be wasted. These children will grow into better people because of what you’ve done.”

Mr. Davidson returned to his working corner in notably high spirits.

Just as Jade began lowering the potato strips into the hot oil, a man stopped in front of the stall. His clothes were clean and well-lept, the sort that suggested he had a few spare pennies at home. Jade lifted her gaze with mild curiosity.

Chips were cheap street food. It’s something bought openly by the poor, and avoided just as openly by those who cared about appearance. The latter would often pretend disinterest, though Jade had learned to spot the quick glances, the swallowed saliva.

In Jade’s mind – shaped by Chinese culture – it was a matter of “face”. They valued their prestige, and eating chips in public would downgrade their status. This was clearly a crucial social game played among the richer classes. A performance Jade could only compare to the power struggles in historical C-NovelFire set in palaces and great Houses. It was the only way she could make sense of it.

The man wore spectacles and appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with the air of someone accustomed to the rigors of education. When his eyes settled on Jade, she felt an odd pressure in his gaze – measuring, evaluating. She didn’t understand it, but a customer was still a customer, so she asked anyway, “Good day, sir. Would you like a bag of chips? A penny for a large bag, a halfpenny for a small one.”

“I will take a small bag,” the man replied after a pause. His tone was hesitant, as if he were still debating the propriety of the purchase.

“...Sir, you don’t need to buy them if you don’t feel like it,” Jade said. She could feel the question marks mounting in her mind as the man continued to linger; he puzzled her – not in a creepy way, but he was certainly strange. “Or d’you need help? I’m a teacher in a ragged school run by a domus. Is there someone you’re looking–”

“You are a teacher?” he interrupted her, brows knitting. “That explains it.”

He studied her for a moment. “The manner in which you spoke earlier – have you been instructing your students like that? I must say, it is hardly appropriate, young miss.”

Of course it isn’t, Jade thought dryly. I’m not even meant to be a teacher in the first place. Still, she kept her voice polite. “Our aim is simply for the children to learn to read, write, and count. In other words, we don’t set high demands for our teachers.”

He shook his head, “Even so, I see no evidence to support your claim that one must block this so-called ‘dirty air’ from entering our lungs.”

Now, Jade was irritated.

Yes, her academics hadn’t been great; she’d returned half of what she learned in school to her teachers. But living in an era of the internet where knowledge practically forced itself into her brain through every kind of media, Jade could pound her chest and proudly declare that she was no ignoramus*.

She was aware that science needed time to develop. In this Victorian-ish era, scientific knowledge was budding; many theories would later be corrected or discarded before reaching the modern state she had known. So she shouldn’t be provoked by someone accusing her of being wrong when she clearly knew she was right – and time will prove it.

Besides, there was no point in starting an argument with a stranger in front of her stall. This was the primary income supporting the school should they lose a patron for any reason, and any wrong move could tarnish the domus’s reputation.

So Jade drew a slow breath, reached up, and removed her mask to reveal a polite, composed, smiling face. “Your chips are ready, sir!” she said, handing him the bag. “If you would be so kind as to step aside, others are waiting.”

He took the bag, paid and moved away, but he continued to linger near the stall, speaking even as the next customers stepped forward. “Young miss,” he said, “you ought to be careful not to teach children matters that are incorrect…”

That was it.

“Dearest, Honourable, Sir!” Jade said, forcing every polite honorific she could think of through her gritted teeth, emphasizing each one with an extremely polished smile. “I am merely a woman short on funds, attempting to feed a school of some two hundred and fifty children. Are you sure you want to debate me, right here, right now, in the middle of the street, in front of so many potential customers, and risk me selling nothing today and starving my kids? Hm?”

The man opened his mouth, hesitated, then pressed his lips together. At last, he gave a stiff nod.

Just as Jade raised her hand to replace her mask, already expecting him to leave – satisfied or otherwise – she heard the man say, “My apologies, young Miss. I shall pay a visit to your school another day, for further discussion.”

“What?” Jade looked up, eyes widening.

She caught only his retreating back. His footsteps were brisk, almost hurried.

She blinked, then turned to Josh, who looked just as lost. “Did he just say he plans to come to the school – purposely to visit me – just to debate things that are none of his business?”

“Apparently so,” said a customer at the stall, answering for Josh with an amused chuckle.

Josh nodded. The mask hid half of his face, but his eyes were unmistakably puzzled. “Sensei, do you know that man?”

“Of course not,” Jade replied flatly. “The only good wealthy man I know is our dear patron. Forget him, we have work to do.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Miss Jade,” said the same customer, accepting her bag of chips. “What you said about the lungs made perfect sense to me.”

“You heard all that?” Jade asked, genuinely surprised. She had thought she was speaking only to Mr. Davidson and her pupil, never expecting her words to be caught by others.

“Every word,” The customer laughed, then walked off.

Jade turned back to Josh. “I was that loud? I thought I’d kept my voice down…”

Josh considered this. “Audible.”

Jade blinked, sighed, shook the thought from her head, and turned back to the stove. She had prepared extra potatoes today, and she had no intention of carrying leftovers home. Strange men and stranger conversations could wait. Right now, what mattered was selling chips.