Regarding Henry Thompson's arrival, Mr. Harris didn't even spare him a glance. It seemed that not only did he have a strange temper, but he was also petty, still brooding over what happened last time. This made Henry Thompson let out a wry smile—clearly, achieving his goal wouldn't be easy. All he could do was try his best and leave the rest to fate.

Time passed little by little. Henry Thompson stood there for nearly half an hour, and finally, as noon approached, Mr. Harris glanced at him sideways and said, "Kid, you've been standing next to me for half the day without saying a word. What exactly are you up to?"

"Hehe, I offended you last time and have felt very ashamed these past few days, so I prepared a few small dishes to apologize to Uncle Harris!" This Mr. Harris was a comrade-in-arms of James Thompson and younger than him, so Henry Thompson naturally addressed him as Uncle Harris. He also didn't mention his request for help at all, because asking for help is a skill that requires a gradual approach—otherwise, haste makes waste.

"Apologize?" Mr. Harris now looked at Henry Thompson with interest, his sharp gaze seeming to see right through people. Then he suddenly smiled and said, "Isn't your apology a bit late? You waited more than half a month to come and apologize. That doesn't make much sense. You don't happen to want something from me, do you?"

Damn, anyone who could rise from a house servant to a general is definitely not easy to fool! Henry Thompson was startled at this, but outwardly he remained calm. Instead, he sighed deeply and put on a wronged expression, saying, "Uncle Harris, we're neighbors, after all. You know the situation on the manor this year. To be honest, the reason I went fishing that day was because I couldn't find a single grain of food at home. The tenant farmers at Thompson Manor have been eating pig slop every day, and the children are so hungry they're fighting with stray dogs for food. So for the past half month, I haven't done anything else—I've been getting up early and working late every day, trying to improve the tenants' lives. It was only after a lot of effort that things started to look up, and I finally had some grain and copper at home, so I prepared a few small dishes to apologize to Uncle Harris!"

Henry Thompson spoke with utter sincerity, because what he said was true—he just left out a few details. Mr. Harris kept watching Henry Thompson's face for any sign of deception, but found nothing. Still, he was a bit skeptical and said, "What could you possibly do in just half a month? And you boast about improving the tenants' lives? Even though you only have five tenant families, that's still dozens of mouths to feed. I'm not looking down on you, but if none of your tenants starve to death this winter, you'll be lucky!"

Hearing this, Henry Thompson wasn't angry, nor did he try to argue. He simply opened the food box and took out the dishes inside. The box had several layers, each with a dish. The top layer was garlic pork head meat. When Mr. Harris saw it, he couldn't help but laugh, "Your apology doesn't seem very sincere—you're serving me pork head? Couldn't you find some better meat?"

Henry Thompson realized that this man named Ma not only had a strange temper and was petty, but also had a sharp tongue. Still, since he needed something from him, he pretended not to hear and continued to take out the second dish—braised pig's feet. Although the reddish color looked very appetizing, Mr. Harris immediately recognized it as pig's feet and laughed again, "Pork head and pig's feet—don't tell me the next dish is pig's tail or offal?"

At this point, Henry Thompson really wanted to take out yesterday's pig intestines and stuff them in his mouth—unwashed, at that! But patience is key to success, so he decided to endure and took out the third dish: braised pork. This finally made Mr. Harris change his tune a bit, muttering to himself, "Now that's a bit more sincere. It smells pretty good, but I wonder how it tastes?"

Finally, Henry Thompson took out stir-fried bean sprouts. This time, Mr. Harris's eyes lit up, "Now this is good! Bean sprouts are in high demand in Chang'an—they're hard to buy most of the time. The steward couldn't get any today, and I didn't expect you to bring a plate!"

As he spoke, Mr. Harris didn't stand on ceremony with Henry Thompson, grabbing his chopsticks and eating several mouthfuls of bean sprouts. As soon as he tasted them, he loudly praised the dish, repeatedly saying "delicious." The bean sprouts were tender and crisp, and stir-frying brought out the best flavor. But in the Tang Dynasty, chefs hadn't invented stir-frying yet—even the cooks in the princess's mansion only boiled the sprouts and served them cold, so naturally, they couldn't compare to Henry Thompson's dish.

After eating several big mouthfuls of bean sprouts, Mr. Harris finally turned his attention to the meat dishes. For the nobility, pork was considered lowly meat, and those with refined tastes usually disdained it. But Mr. Harris had been a house servant and was a military man, so he didn't care about such things. He picked up a piece of braised pork and tossed it in his mouth, only to find it fatty but not greasy, soft, and fragrant. His eyes widened in surprise—he hadn't expected pork to taste this good!

He then tasted the braised pig's feet and garlic pork head meat, finding each had its own unique flavor. Though the four dishes tasted different, they all shared one thing in common: they were delicious. The cooking methods were also novel—he had never eaten anything like them before. This made his appetite soar, and after eating several more big bites, he suddenly reached out to Henry Thompson and said, "Give it here!"