Ethan Carter walked over and took the reins from David Grant, keeping the purple-maned horse from acting up. She reached out her arm to help Henry Foster dismount.

Henry Foster didn’t like Ethan Carter; he found her meddlesome. He was about to use his riding crop to brush away Ethan Carter’s outstretched hand, but at the very moment he raised it, he forced himself to lower it again, and, with Ethan Carter’s help, jumped off the horse.

Seeing David Grant stretching lazily, relieved and ready to take the horse back to the North Courtyard for lunch, Henry Foster said to him, “Have Walter Grant take the purple-maned horse back and feed it well. Don’t let it eat too much at noon—I’ll need it again this afternoon. Tonight, you can add a few more pounds of beans. From now on, you’ll dine with me in the East Courtyard…”

David Grant was momentarily stunned, a bit at a loss.

“Ethan Carter, go find Walter Grant and have him come to the East Courtyard to take the purple-maned horse away.” Henry Foster didn’t think much of it; instinctively, he didn’t want to give David Grant a chance to ask Charles Grant for instructions, so he simply had David Grant lead the purple-maned horse back to the East Courtyard with him, and sent Ethan Carter to fetch Walter Grant to take the horse away.

David Grant wasn’t very quick-witted, so he could only grit his teeth and follow Henry Foster to the East Courtyard, tying the purple-maned horse to a peach tree in the west wing yard.

Chapter Six: Mountain Dwelling

Besides the main house, the East Courtyard had two side wings adjoining it to the east and west. Lunch had already been prepared in the dining room of the west wing.

A plate of greens, a plate of sliced cured meat, a large bowl of mountain mushroom chicken stew, a bowl of braised grass carp, and a small wooden bucket holding about half a bucket of white rice were set on the Eight Immortals table by the window. It wasn’t exactly a feast of rare delicacies, but it was a spread ordinary families could never enjoy.

For the past two or three days, Henry Foster hadn’t had a proper meal, and after riding half the day, he was famished. As soon as he sat down, the aroma made his mouth water and his appetite surge. But he was also worried that that little bitch Yvonne Bailey, unwilling to accept defeat, might have tampered with the food through an inside man. Staring at the table full of delicious dishes, he dared not act rashly.

Seeing David Grant clumsily scoop a bowl of rice and hand it over, Henry Foster took it, picked up a few slices of translucent cured meat, a few pieces of braised fish, some stewed chicken, and two greens, pressing them into the rice bowl. Then he set the bowl aside, pointed at the rest of the food on the table, and said to David Grant, “I’m not that hungry yet; this is enough for me. You go ahead and eat the rest!”

David Grant was quite at a loss, but his nature was rough and he couldn’t resist the temptation of the food before him. In a gruff voice, he said, “If my dad asks later, I’ll have to say the young master forced me to eat all this!”

“You still have to help me ride this afternoon. Are you afraid your dad will break your legs over one meal?” Henry Foster urged impatiently.

At that moment, Henry Foster glanced out the window and saw Walter Grant following Ethan Carter into the west wing, his face dark as he untied the purple-maned horse from the peach tree, looking thoroughly displeased.

Henry Foster frowned slightly, thinking that even if this guy wasn’t colluding with Yvonne Bailey, he’d have to find a chance to deal with him sooner or later.

David Grant quickly gulped down nearly half the bucket of rice along with the dishes. Seeing nothing unusual except a look of satisfaction on his face, Henry Foster then quickly finished the bowl of food he’d set aside.

At this moment, Charles Grant entered with a dark face, following Ethan Carter. Seeing David Grant still sitting across from Henry Foster, he glared and scolded, “You clueless oaf, don’t you know any manners? Go clean up the stables in the North Courtyard—now!”

David Grant was afraid of his adoptive father Charles Grant. After being scolded, he didn’t wait for Henry Foster to speak and slunk off to the North Courtyard. Ethan Carter also stuck out her tongue and went off to clear the dishes.

Henry Foster didn’t say anything either, but returned to the study. In the afternoon, he went to the training ground again. He didn’t see David Grant, but instead saw another family guard from the manor, Kyle Sullivan, leading the purple-maned horse over. He said, “Big Hei said Mr. Grant sent him out on an errand and told me to help the young master ride!”

Henry Foster was so angry that the veins on his forehead twitched.

He had made it clear to David Grant at lunch that he needed him to help with riding in the afternoon, but that old bastard Charles Grant had deliberately sent him out on an errand!

Was Charles Grant trying to show that he was the real boss of the manor?

Henry Foster’s face darkened as he swung onto the purple-maned horse and began trotting around the manor. Kyle Sullivan glanced at Henry Foster, surprised that the young master didn’t fly into a rage.

Henry Foster had been confined to the manor for over a month now, well-fed and cared for, with no wine or women to sap his strength, so his complexion had improved somewhat.

That morning, he’d felt weak while riding, still suffering aftereffects from poisoning and several days of poor eating. But now, back in the saddle, he felt much more at ease.

This time, Henry Foster was no longer content to just circle the manor. He rode down to the creek, crossed to the far bank, and urged the horse to trot around the fields.

The narrow dirt paths around the manor were too cramped for the purple-maned horse, which was quite spirited, to really run.

On the west bank of the creek, the manor’s fields covered over three hundred mu, making a circuit of four or five li.

The dirt road between the elms and willows was relatively wide, with no walls or houses to block the way, so the purple-maned horse could finally stretch its legs and run a bit—if not for fear of Charles Grant coming out to rein him in, Henry Foster would have liked to gallop down to the lakeshore for a spin.

After trotting around the fields three or four times, Henry Foster was drenched in sweat. He stopped by the creek to rest. Perhaps because his mindset had suddenly shifted, he didn’t feel tired at all; instead, he felt a sense of exhilaration.