William Carter burst into tears, his tears falling with a plop as he suddenly knelt at Charles Foster's feet. "Young master, could you... could you pick another hobby? Go to a brothel, go to a gambling den, go anywhere you like, just please, stop trying to do big things."

Charles Foster felt a surge of emotion. If I don't do big things, am I supposed to let all of you turn me into a useless good-for-nothing?

He felt helpless inside, but with his hands behind his back, he whistled boldly. "Keep nagging and I'll break three of your legs!"

……

Hundreds of thousands of taels of silver were all spent on purchasing ebony, to the point that the entire market's supply was bought out. This became yet another major event that shook the capital. Fortunately, everyone was already used to the prodigal behavior of the Fang family's wastrel, so aside from mocking and using it as gossip, they quickly put such absurd actions out of their minds.

Charles Foster tossed the Fang household into chaos for a whole month. By now, the scorching summer had arrived, the weather was hot and dry, and the Xiangfei fan finally became useful. No longer did he have to fan himself in the freezing cold, pretending to be elegant and carefree—though in Charles Foster's eyes, that was pure foolishness. But what could he do? He was Charles Foster.

One early morning, Little Grace hurried in, while William Carter shouted, "Young master, young master, get up... get up..."

Charles Foster lifted his eyes slightly and saw that it was still dark outside. He immediately grew annoyed. "So early in the morning, what do you mean by this? Did you take the wrong medicine? Who wakes people up at this hour?"

But William Carter was so anxious he stomped his feet. "The Marquis... the Marquis... has returned victorious! The personal guards who accompanied the Marquis on campaign just arrived ahead on fast horses to report that the Marquis has entered the city and will be home any moment. He should have gone to the palace to pay respects, but he was worried about you, young master, so he came home first to check on you. Young master, get up quickly."

Father... is back?

Charles Foster shivered.

Wasn't he supposed to be gone much longer? This campaign was to suppress the Yunnan chieftain rebellion, where the miasma is thick and the tribal soldiers are cunning, unwilling to fight the court head-on. By all accounts, it should have dragged on until the end of the year, but it's only just summer.

Charles Foster had a vague sense of impending doom.

He pretended to be calm and said coolly, "Oh, help me dress, I need to welcome my dad..."

As soon as the words "my dad" left his mouth, he saw William Carter suddenly look at him with alarm.

Charles Foster's heart skipped a beat. What's going on now? Did I mess up again?

William Carter squinted, as if suspecting that Charles Foster's illness had relapsed, and couldn't help muttering, "Young master has never called the Marquis 'dad' before."

Beast!

Charles Foster cursed inwardly. Is this even a person? Worse than a pig or a dog, not even recognizing his own father.

He could only cough. "Young master has grown up, can't I be a bit more sensible? You dare interrupt before I've finished speaking? Hmph, what I meant was, I need to go welcome that old man, my dad!"

William Carter immediately broke into a broad smile, as if relieved. "That's more like it. You scared me just now, I was really afraid your illness hadn't fully healed. Henry Baker has already written to the Marquis with the good news. If the Marquis came back and found out you weren't fully recovered, he'd definitely punish me. Now that I see you're perfectly fine, I..."

At this point, he actually choked up, crying tears of joy.

Charles Foster, however, was in utter turmoil. He let Little Grace help him dress, and once he was fully clothed, he saw Little Grace standing with her head lowered, cheeks blushing as she stared at the tips of her embroidered shoes. Charles Foster suddenly realized—he'd almost forgotten. He put on a mischievous look. "Little Grace, you've grown up again..."

With a quick pinch, he heard firecrackers going off outside, so Charles Foster dashed out of the room as if escaping. At the central gate of the Fang residence, he saw a heroic man dressed as a military officer just dismounting, with Henry Baker leading a dozen servants lined up in a row.

The officer was broad-shouldered and burly, looking extremely formidable. He had a square face and mouth, which contrasted sharply with the refined, handsome appearance of a young master like Charles Foster—the difference was striking...

Could I really be the neighbor's child?

Charles Foster secretly stuck out his tongue.

Fang's father was named Samuel Foster, his face full of sternness and killing intent. His gaze was sharp and intimidating, but the moment he saw Charles Foster, that piercing look instantly melted. He strode forward in a few quick steps, grabbed Charles Foster, and said, "Jifan, you fell ill with a brain disease. While I was in the southern border, I was worried sick, but the war kept me from leaving. With no other choice, I pressed the attack, and thanks to Heaven's blessing, managed to pacify the rebels early and hurry back. On the way, I heard your illness had healed—truly, our ancestors are watching over us."

So it was because of my illness that Father risked everything to speed up the campaign. No wonder he came back so soon.

Charles Foster was suddenly overwhelmed by a deep sense of fatherly love, and his heart melted. He looked up at this stranger, and with genuine emotion said, "Dad..."

As soon as the word "Dad" left his lips, Samuel Foster's face flashed with a hint of suspicion.

Off to the side, Henry Baker, the doctor, and the Fang family physician all looked stunned.

Sigh...

Charles Foster could only steel himself and then burst out laughing. "You old man, you're finally back."

"Ha ha!" Only then did Samuel Foster laugh heartily as well, all suspicion gone. How could my son have a brain disease? Isn't he just the same as before! He slapped Charles Foster on the shoulder. "Good son, come, let's talk inside. Now that you're well, you haven't done anything bad, have you?"