“Thank you so much, I’ll treat you to a drink another day!” Henry Bolton had just run a few steps when he suddenly remembered something, stopped, turned back, and said to Frank Harris, “I want to borrow five strings of coins from you. Do you have any on hand?”

“There’s no need to say ‘borrow’ between brothers.” Frank Harris reached into his pocket and felt around, but there was only a handful of copper coins. Embarrassed, he smiled and said, “All my money is piled under the bed. I don’t have any on me right now.”

“No problem! Just give the money to Grace.” With that, Henry Bolton turned and ran off.

“Grace?” Frank Harris scratched the back of his head, then suddenly realized, ‘Isn’t Grace just a frying pan?’

“Jack! Sammy! Henry Bolton! I don’t want to see her…” Frank Harris chased after them desperately, but Henry Bolton was already out of sight.

……

“In all these years, I’ve only seen you three times, but since yesterday, I’ve already seen you four times.”

In the main hall of the Zhang residence, the family head Edward Bolton looked at Henry Bolton gently and smiled slightly, “I called you here today because there’s an important matter I want to entrust to you.”

The main hall of the Zhang residence was very spacious, large enough to accommodate several hundred people for a gathering. Directly facing the main entrance was a huge white jade screen, with a base made of precious zitan wood, blocking the view from outside. In each of the four corners stood a celadon vase from Yue Prefecture, each taller than a person, with a lustrous and delicate glaze—true masterpieces among ceramics. Nearly a hundred low couches were neatly arranged in the hall, each topped with a mat woven from bulrush.

At this moment, dozens of people were seated in the hall, each with a different expression. The family head Edward Bolton sat in the center; to his left was his principal wife The Walker Family, who was holding a cup of tea and sizing up Henry Bolton; to his right was the acting family head James Bolton, his gaze gloomy and silent. Behind them sat David Bolton and other legitimate sons, all looking doubtful. Further back, against the wall, sat dozens of elder relatives born of concubines, as well as the chief steward, chief accountant, and more than a dozen high-ranking servants, all with complicated expressions, occasionally whispering to each other.

Henry Bolton seemed like a job applicant, sitting across from them. His gaze was calm and his demeanor composed, as if it were they who had come to apply for a job, not him.

“I want you to take charge of the Zhang family’s finances for half a year!”

Seeing Henry Bolton remain unruffled, Edward Bolton couldn’t help but feel a competitive urge even as he admired him. He didn’t believe he couldn’t see a trace of shock in this young man’s eyes, so he stated the important matter directly, then fixed his gaze on him, trying to find the reaction he wanted. But he was disappointed—Henry Bolton’s eyes were as deep as the sea, revealing nothing.

What he didn’t know was that, regardless of cold or heat, sickness or pain, Henry Bolton had gotten up before dawn every day for twelve years to swim in the river, never missing a day. In repeatedly pushing his physical limits, he had brushed past death countless times, and his will had long since become unbreakably strong.

‘Clang!’

The sound of a teacup being knocked over was jarringly loud in the silent hall. Everyone turned to look to the left, only to see the matron Mrs. Walker hurriedly picking up the overturned teacup. But after three tries, she still hadn’t managed to pick it up—her hands were trembling slightly.

Mrs. Walker was the legitimate daughter of the sixth-ranked family in the land, the southern The Walker Family, of noble birth. As part of a political alliance, she had married the Zhang family’s eldest legitimate son, Edward Bolton, at sixteen. But since Edward Bolton refused to divorce his first wife, she had long remained a secondary wife. Fifteen years ago, after Edward Bolton’s first wife died, she was finally made the principal wife.

Mrs. Walker was just over forty, her face pale as snow, her true complexion hidden beneath thick makeup. Still, her features were delicate, though her cheekbones were a bit high and her lips rather thin, giving her a somewhat harsh look.

Today, her husband had summoned her, saying there was an announcement to make. She hadn’t expected the Zhang family’s finances would be handed over to a son born of a concubine. Everyone was shocked, but she felt a deeper sense of fear than the others.

After a moment of silence, everyone’s gaze shifted from her to Henry Bolton, their eyes filled with jealousy, hatred, suspicion, and worry, weaving together like a great net closing in on Henry Bolton. But Henry Bolton ignored it all. He simply lowered his head in thought, then silently nodded to Edward Bolton.

No one noticed that Mrs. Walker quietly exchanged a glance with James Bolton.

……

It was late at night. A crescent moon hung in the sky, silently watching over the world. The people of the Zhang residence were long asleep, but Mrs. Walker tossed and turned on her bed, unable to sleep. She felt extremely agitated, glancing at the window from time to time. The window wasn’t fully closed, leaving a gap, and in the crack was a stick of sandalwood incense, its ember flickering, smoke curling in the air.

Mrs. Walker was just over forty, at an age of physical vigor, but her husband had stopped sharing a bed with her fifteen years ago. Loneliness had long been her constant companion.

‘Click!’ With a soft sound, the window opened noiselessly. Mrs. Walker sat up abruptly, staring at the window in nervous excitement. A small, thin shadow appeared, snuffed out the incense, and nimbly vaulted over the windowsill, landing silently on a soft quilt, as if he were a regular visitor to this room.

“Yanluo, I’m late.” His face flashed in the moonlight, revealing eyes with more white than black, and a lecherous smile.

Mrs. Walker said nothing, but stepped forward, pulled him onto the bed, and hastily undid her sash...