Smile, Wilhelm!

"If that's truly the case, then the decision-makers of the Khitan in this dimension possess far greater vision and strategy than their historical counterparts," thought Smith, feeling a faint sense of relief. 

A nation's fate, in some ways, parallels an individual's destiny. To borrow the words of Chancellor Zhuge, "Though one might call it the will of heaven, it also relies on human effort." The foresight and ambition of a country's leaders directly shape its prospects and fate. 

Looking at world history, latecomer nations that managed to surpass more advanced ones did so primarily through human effort. Those so-called "ascensions" driven by external chance were usually fleeting, often undone by inevitable circumstances or even other accidental factors. It's reminiscent of the saying, "Heaven's timing is less important than Earth's advantage, and Earth's advantage is less important than human harmony." 

Thus, a decision-making body filled with talented individuals is critical to a nation's success. With their guidance and adaptation to circumstances, even a lagging nation can gradually catch up. Such leadership is rare in any era, and Smith silently prayed he had not misjudged. He even began considering whether, when the time was right, he might use his "unique position" to subtly aid the Khitans—the land that was, in truth, his own homeland. 

But "when the time was right" would have to wait until he grew up. As things stood, he was merely a one-year-old child. Adulthood was at least a decade away. Reflecting on the year since his rebirth into this world, Smith already found the experience torturous—not just enduring his underdeveloped body, incapable of speech, but also the way others treated him. 

Not that he was mistreated, of course. As the sole son and grandson of the Hohenzollern royal lineage, Smith enjoyed first-class care and security, the finest food, and top-tier living standards. Even his initially awkward relationship with his mother, strained by the ordeal of a difficult childbirth, had now become harmonious. His "convenient" father, Frederick, though busy with military affairs, still made time to show paternal affection. Coupled with the loving atmosphere between his parents, Smith lived in circumstances that were as ideal as any child of this era could hope for. 

Yet therein lay the problem: he was treated as a child. 

Humans, after meeting their basic material needs, naturally seek fulfillment in their mental world. The most crucial aspect of this is gaining recognition from others. While it might sound melodramatic, this is precisely what sets humans apart from other animals. 

Smith was no exception. As an educated intellectual, he yearned for acknowledgment. However, trapped within the body of a one-year-old named Wilhelm, he was inevitably treated as a child—an interaction that could never satisfy his deeper needs. 

"An entire life feels unbearably long," Smith muttered inwardly, now gaining a new understanding of this sentiment. But there was no other choice but to endure. 

Day by day passed, and Smith assumed this episode would be but a minor anecdote in his long childhood—perhaps not even that. 

Little did he expect "the course of history" to spring a small surprise on him. 

This surprise came two days before Wilhelm's first birthday, on January 25, 1860. Smith was in Victoria's arms, being coaxed to sleep for his midday nap—a habit that, for him, was somewhat challenging. Before his reincarnation, he had no strict midday napping routine, and even a year into this new life, he hadn't successfully developed one. 

However, Victoria had gradually mastered techniques for lulling Smith to sleep over the past year. Before long, Smith, who had been quite lively moments earlier, felt a wave of drowsiness wash over him. His consciousness blurred, and he vaguely heard some rustling and murmuring in the room. 

It was his "convenient" father and mother talking. For a fleeting moment, Smith's mind cleared, and he thought: 

"Why is my father here in broad daylight? Could something important have happened?" 

But this brief clarity soon faded, as the drowsiness returned with force, pulling him toward slumber. Just as he was about to surrender, he caught snippets of their conversation: 

"...The Khitan delegation wishes... to attend Wilhelm's birthday celebration on the 27th. I've already agreed!" 

"What? If you're going to drop this on me, I'm definitely not sleepy anymore!" Smith jolted awake. He strained his ears and opened his eyes wide, eager for more details. 

Perhaps realizing his earlier tone had been a bit loud, Frederick lowered his voice for the rest of the conversation, making it harder for Smith to discern. Still, piecing together fragments, Smith got the gist: 

This Khitan delegation's visit was a precursor to formal diplomatic relations—a stage for broadening connections. Wilhelm's first birthday banquet provided a perfect semi-official, semi-private occasion for such an interaction. It offered a rare, flexible, and relaxed atmosphere where notable figures from all sectors could mingle. The Khitans couldn't miss such an opportunity. 

This wasn't groundbreaking news, but one term Frederick casually mentioned struck Smith like a thunderbolt: 

"…Holingin…" 

"Holingin?" Smith mused. "I almost forgot about that." He resolved to carefully observe this Holingin character on his birthday. 

Thankfully, the wait was short. Compared to the 300-plus days he had already endured, these two days were nothing. 

On January 27, the big day arrived. 

Berlin was still in the grip of winter. The night before, a rare heavy snowfall had blanketed the city in silver. From Victoria's arms, Smith gazed out the window at streets where snow reached past people's calves. Those trudging through the snow moved slowly and clumsily, the cold making travel even harsher. 

But such conditions couldn't dampen the enthusiasm of Berlin's elite, who had warm, comfortable carriages and servants to assist them. For them, attending the celebration was merely a matter of stepping out their door into a carriage, then alighting at the crown prince's palace. Even if they had to slog through the snow on foot, they wouldn't have uttered a complaint. After all, it was the future emperor's birthday! 

Smith didn't linger by the window for long. As the nominal protagonist of this first-birthday banquet, he too had to be properly dressed and prepared. 

Nineteenth-century European court etiquette was intricate and rigid, with precise rules about what to wear and when. Even a one-year-old like Smith wasn't exempt from these customs.

By the time baby Smith was pushed into the banquet hall in his stroller by Victoria, more than two hours had passed. It was the usual parade of formalities—handshakes, small talk, and gifts—dull and tedious as ever. Fortunately, as a newly turned one-year-old officially certified with "intermittent attention deficit disorder," Smith enjoyed the exclusive privilege of zoning out. Disregarding all notions of "courtly etiquette," he focused solely on scanning the room. His wide eyes darted among the sea of pale faces and high-bridged noses, searching for any rare presence of yellow skin and black eyes.

Luck was on his side. It wasn't hard to spot. Amidst the line of well-wishers clad in European-style formal wear, a group adorned in traditional Chinese attire stood out conspicuously. With just one glance, Smith caught sight of them, and his gaze was utterly transfixed.

The hairstyles and clothing of these individuals were clearly different from the "homeland customs" Smith had read about from this era, yet they didn't resemble styles from even earlier dynasties. Their appearance struck Smith as both familiar and alien, stirring an inexplicable sense of aesthetic delight.

In that moment, Smith realized something profound: this world might have changed far more than he had ever imagined.

"So, who is this Holingin anyway?" Smith wondered. Ever since he first heard the name about a month ago, the question had lingered in his mind. This was, in many ways, a "professional hazard" for Smith. The more puzzling a mystery was, the more he felt compelled to obsess over it.

Back in his school days, Smith used to proudly claim he had a "spirit of inquiry." That same spirit drove him to earn a doctorate, then led to the "inquiry" that resulted in two children of his own.

But when it came to Holingin, Smith was stumped. At one point, he even had an absurd, comical dream where a figure resembling the "shadowy suspect" from Detective Conan approached him and introduced himself as Holingin. Being the inquisitive type, Smith badgered him relentlessly, demanding:

"What's your real name in Mandarin?"

The figure grinned mischievously, revealing pearly white teeth, and replied,

"We anonymous do-gooders don't leave our names. Just call me Red Scarf!"

Smith woke up with a jolt.

The kicker? After mulling over the dream, Smith couldn't help but notice that Holingin did sound vaguely similar to "Red Scarf" when pronounced with a certain inflection.

But today, the mystery of Holingin was finally about to be solved!

Smith's eyes scanned the group of Chinese individuals until they settled on someone who seemed like the most probable candidate.

This person was tall and well-built, standing at roughly eight feet by the old reckoning. Though not as hulking as Bismarck, his physique radiated strength and vitality. His features were dignified and striking, with a particularly commanding pair of eyes that gleamed like torches, exuding an air of unshakable righteousness. Even from several dozen steps away, Smith felt the overwhelming presence of this man's moral fortitude and indomitable spirit.

"A man of such stature among the Khitans?" Smith marveled internally, while his mind raced to comb through his knowledge of historical figures from this era.

Given the rapid development of photography during this time, many historical figures had left behind portraits or photographs. These were often highly realistic, allowing for easy identification. Yet, just as Smith had failed to match the name earlier, this time, he also failed to match the face.

To his surprise, Smith realized that not only did his memory lack any record of this individual, but even the limited information "Smiling Willi" had left about his homeland in this era contained no trace of such a person.

"Could he truly be someone who never appeared in recorded history? But that doesn't make sense—if the timeline had diverged so drastically, wouldn't the Time Bureau have gone mad by now?"

Smith couldn't figure it out. He sensed there was some underlying issue but couldn't quite grasp what it was.

While Smith stared at the mysterious Holingin, his mind a tangled mess, the man in question was also observing him with great interest. It was clear he had noticed the young Prince William's unwavering gaze, which seemed far too focused and calculating for a mere toddler. This, naturally, piqued his curiosity.

Amid their mutual intrigue, the Khitan delegation moved forward in the queue, finally arriving before Smith. Led by none other than the enigmatic Holingin, the group performed a respectful bow. After the formalities, the moment of truth arrived.

The mysterious figure who had occupied Smith's thoughts for so long finally revealed his identity. His words sent waves of shock through Smith's heart.

In a thick Hunan dialect, he declared:

"Your humble servant, Hu Linyi, pays his respects to Prince William!"