“Don’t be fooled by my age or think I’m useless now. Back in the day, I was one of the old-timers who followed the boss to conquer the world. Later, I got injured and became disabled, but the boss still took care of me and kept a position for me in the hall. Still, I got old and went home to take care of things—but around here, who wouldn’t give me a bit of Mr. Foster’s face?” As Mr. Foster spoke, a long-lost authority naturally crept into his tone: “Not to mention, your boss Mr. Harris is also under my protection. Otherwise, would he be living such a peaceful life? I’ve known about your situation for a while and have been watching you. You have good character and are a promising talent. Staying in the shop isn’t a long-term path for you—there’s gossip, and it’s beneath you. You’re literate and have trained in martial arts; doing this is just too stifling.”

“Mr. Thompson, do you want to take me in?”

“I’m old and can’t take you in myself, but I can introduce you to the gang, maybe even arrange for you to meet the boss. The boss would give me that much face. In the future, at the very least, getting a deputy incense master position in Yangzhou City would be more than enough. It’s just that, right now, we don’t have any formal ties!” Mr. Foster said with deep meaning.

A flash of thought crossed Grace Bolton’s mind—he immediately understood Mr. Foster’s intention. No matter how much of an old hand he was, once he half-retired from the gang, his influence would wane. His son had his leg chopped off early on, so there was no future for him, and thus, there was no suitable successor in the gang. To preserve his influence and leave a way out for his descendants, it was only natural for him to have such thoughts.

“I understand Mr. Foster’s kindness. This child pays respects to his godfather.” Moved, Grace Bolton immediately knelt down and bowed his head deeply to the ground.

Such decisiveness surprised Mr. Foster for a moment. He had originally intended to take on a disciple or something similar, but this new relationship left him stunned for a few seconds before he burst out laughing: “Good, good! My son, get up, get up!”

After Grace Bolton stood up, their relationship changed instantly. In ancient times, the bond between a godfather and godson was truly extraordinary.

After thinking for a moment, Mr. Foster said, “Ah, my son, when you go back this time, just quit your job and hurry back to have New Year’s Eve dinner at my house. Even though you’ve lost your memory, judging by your background, you’re probably not ordinary. I wouldn’t dare to change your surname, so let’s just make you an adopted son with a different surname!”

“Yes, godfather. But I’d like to finish my work this morning first. As a subordinate, I should be loyal to my duties!” Grace Bolton replied respectfully, smiling inwardly—did he really think I’d covet his little family fortune? Still, he answered politely, and after seeing there was nothing else, exchanged a few words and took his leave.

Changing one’s surname or not was a big deal in ancient times. Not changing it meant just being a godson, a personal kinship with no connection to the clan. Changing it meant becoming a member of the clan, being entered into the genealogy, and having inheritance rights.

Pulling the vegetable cart, he returned to the shop. Although it was close to New Year’s, there were still some customers. He didn’t say much, just brought the vegetables in and hurried to help out.

“The world is in turmoil…” After a few drinks, some customers traveling from various places started chatting again. Compared to the locals, they were much less reserved: “Isn’t that right… David Brooks, Edward Reed, Sam Thompson, Samuel Price, Charles Grant, William Lee have all rebelled. There are more and more bandits in the nearby mountains. The situation doesn’t look good!”

“Yeah, there’s chaos everywhere. Sigh, if war breaks out, we’ll be in trouble… Better to be a dog in peaceful times than a person in troubled ones!”

As everyone spoke, their sighs grew heavier. “Back in the Kaihuang era, things were much more peaceful than now.”

He listened idly while working, and happened to glance outside the shop. He saw a young boy, about fourteen or fifteen, grinning from ear to ear as he said, “Hello, Mrs. Clark, I’d like to buy eight pork and vegetable buns!”

Normally, this wouldn’t be anything special, but looking at his clothes—face smeared with grease, tattered garments, cheeks blue from the cold—he couldn’t help but take a second look.

When Mrs. Clark saw the boy, she first glanced worriedly at Mr. Harris and the matron, who were busy inside. Seeing they couldn’t notice what was happening here, she relaxed.

While serving other customers, she pretended to scold him playfully: “No money, and you still want to buy buns like everyone else?”

The boy grinned apologetically: “I’ll owe you for now, but I’ll definitely pay you back tomorrow.”

Mrs. Clark quickly grabbed four buns, hesitated for a moment, then added two more, wrapped them in paper, and stuffed them into his hands, muttering, “This is the last time! Sigh, look at you, frozen like this.”

The boy cheered, slipped out of the crowd, straightened his back, and immediately looked much more spirited. He hadn’t gone far before another boy darted out, snatched a bun, and started wolfing it down.

Seeing this, Grace Bolton couldn’t help but smile at how soft-hearted Mrs. Clark was, but a warmth also welled up inside him. He deliberately blocked the view from inside.

But as he paid attention, a sudden realization struck him. The scene before his eyes, like a flash of lightning, illuminated the confusion that had lingered in his heart for months.

Instantly, he was shocked. Unconsciously, he stepped forward and carefully studied the two boys in front of him.