Stephen Carter is located at the very edge, right next to the coffin shop. Although its feng shui isn’t good, business there is the most prosperous. Even a hundred paces from Stephen Carter, the line of patients already stretched to the street corner. Some patients were supported by family members, others lay on stretchers covered with thick quilts, all looking extremely pained and haggard.

The only one grinning was the coffin shop’s Manager Clark. He wandered among the people in line, occasionally feeling someone’s forehead or checking another’s tongue, putting on the airs of a famous doctor. But the things he said were infuriating: “There’s no cure for your illness. Our shop offers all kinds of coffins. For our ten-year anniversary, everything is 20% off.”

Henry Bolton walked by and gave him a casual knock, laughing, “Manager Clark, you’re at it again, picking on people. Be careful or I’ll tell Master and have him take you apart.”

Looking like a black-faced demon, Manager Clark turned his head and, seeing it was Henry Bolton, quickly cupped his hands and pulled a bitter face, saying, “Master Carter always brings people back from the brink, making my business miserable. There’s nothing I can do. Please, Sammy, have mercy.”

Henry Bolton patted him on the shoulder and laughed, “Just kidding with you. My master wouldn’t care about such a small thing.”

“Of course! Of course! Master Carter is so busy he barely has time for the privy, let alone my little troubles.” Manager Clark gave a dry laugh, then suddenly remembered something, leaned in and winked, whispering, “Looks like Grace is in trouble again, right by the back door. You should go take a look!”

With that, he lifted a patient’s quilt, then suddenly covered his nose and hesitated before saying, “Our shop also has plenty of quicklime, four jin for three wen, cheapest in the city…”

Hearing that Grace Carter was in trouble again, Henry Bolton couldn’t help but give a wry smile. He turned and slipped through the alley beside the pharmacy, heading for the back door of Stephen Carter. This spot was already right up against the southern city wall. Beneath the wall was an open space with a few centuries-old willows. From a distance, Henry Bolton saw Grace Carter squatting under one of the willows, drawing circles on the ground with her finger. It was rare to see her so quiet—usually a sign she’d gotten into trouble.

“Grace, in trouble again?”

Henry Bolton squatted down beside her with a smile, noticing she’d drawn three circles on the ground, each trapping an ant inside, not letting them escape. He laughed again, “Are you still upset about what happened yesterday?”

Grace Carter looked up, her eyes blank. “What happened yesterday?”

Henry Bolton couldn’t decide whether to be angry or amused. He’d rushed to plead with the head of the family early that morning, afraid she’d be scolded by her father, but she’d forgotten everything.

“It’s about the The Bolton Family wanting to take back Stephen Carter.”

Grace Carter froze, then suddenly jumped up with a cry, “Oh no! I forgot to tell Daddy!” With that, she ignored Henry Bolton and hurried to leave, but Henry Bolton grabbed her and laughed, “No need, I’ve already taken care of it for you. The Bolton Family won’t drive Stephen Carter out.”

“It’s settled? That’s great!” Grace Carter let out a long sigh of relief, then immediately put the matter out of her mind. She glanced at him in surprise and asked, “Why are you here today?”

Henry Bolton was exasperated. “Didn’t you run to the academy and tell me Master was looking for me?”

“Oh!” Grace Carter blushed and hurried to explain her forgetfulness, “I was upset, so I forgot everything.”

“So tell me! What’s bothering you that you need Samuel Bolton to help with?”

Grace Carter glanced at him, hesitating, “Well, do you… do you have five strings of cash?”

“Five strings?” Henry Bolton spread his hands and laughed, “I only get two strings a month, just enough to eat. How could I have extra?”

“Then there’s no point telling you.” Grace Carter gloomily squatted down again, catching the three ants that had escaped.

“If you don’t want to say, forget it. I actually have a way to help you borrow it.”

“But borrowed money has to be paid back sooner or later.” Grace Carter muttered. Still, having money was better than not, so after thinking it over, she said, “Alright, but you can’t tell anyone.”

“Okay!”

“It’s like this: Daddy cured a patient, and that patient secretly gave him five extra strings of cash as a thank-you. Daddy found out and told me first thing this morning to return the money.”

At this, Grace Carter looked troubled. She sighed and continued, “I’d just reached the south city gate when I saw an old woman holding a little girl, kneeling and begging. They looked so pitiful!”

“So you got impulsive and gave them all the money?” Henry Bolton couldn’t help but burst out laughing. He could already guess what happened next: Grace Carter got to the patient’s house and remembered she had no money, then turned back to find the beggar, only to discover they were gone.

“What are you laughing at!” Grace Carter jumped up, glaring angrily at Henry Bolton. “You think I’d ask them to give the money back? No! They were so pitiful. Didn’t you see that little girl? She was so thin, just skin and bones.” Grace Carter made a small shape with her hands, her eyes suddenly red as she bit her lip and said, “That little girl’s parents were sold into slavery. It takes ten strings of cash to buy them back. I want to help them.”

Henry Bolton was silent for a long time. He gently patted her cheek and smiled, “You silly frying pan, I’ll figure out the five strings for you. Let’s go!”