After a long while, the two separated, and only the sound of low, heavy breathing could be heard in the room.

"Why didn’t you stop him? How can you let financial power fall into someone else’s hands!" The voice was angry—this was Mrs. Walker.

"I already objected, I even brought up the matter of John Bolton, but he insisted on his own opinion and there was nothing I could do. I really don’t understand, why is he interested in a concubine’s son? Now I’m starting to doubt that child’s true identity—back then, his origins were unclear..."

"We’ll talk about his identity later. What about those accounts now?"

"Don’t worry! I got the account book from Manager Young at noon and already destroyed it. He won’t be able to find any trace."

"And what about that person?" Mrs. Walker suddenly sat up, staring into his eyes: "Did you kill Manager Young!"

"Manager Young was in the accounting room all day—how could I make a move? I already sent someone after him tonight. There should be news first thing tomorrow morning."

Chapter 10: Checking Old Accounts (Part 1)

Early the next morning, Henry Bolton hurried to the accounting room. The Zhang family’s accounting room was located in the center of the Zhang residence. This location was convenient for the branch families living in the outer quarters to collect their monthly allowances, and also for the legitimate sons from the inner quarters to report accounts—very convenient. The accounting room itself wasn’t large, consisting of five or six rooms and an underground vault for storing money.

"We have thirteen people in the accounting room. Besides me, there are three other managers; the rest are regular clerks."

The chief accountant, who was showing Henry Bolton around, was surnamed Qian. He was plump, with a round face and a prosperous look, wearing a long buttoned robe that looked as if a flour sack had been thrown over him. He always spoke softly and gently, and it was rare to see him lose his temper. The Accountant Grant family had served the Zhang residence for three generations, making them a family of servants, but even so, not even a legitimate eldest son like David Bolton would dare offend him lightly. This is the saying: "A county magistrate is not as useful as the person in charge." If you angered him, even with a note from the third master, a single "no money" from him could delay you for ten days or half a month.

However, he was very polite to Henry Bolton, since from today on, he would be making payments based on Henry Bolton’s signature—making him his direct superior.

The accounting room was spacious, with all the clerks working together. Three rows of twelve luohan beds were neatly arranged in the room, each with one person sitting on it, all with their backs to him.

"This is Manager Scott!"

Chief Steward Grant pointed to a man in the middle with an eggplant-shaped face: "He’s in charge of the income from the Zhang family’s estates—not just copper coins, but also grain, cloth, game, and miscellaneous goods, all of which must be recorded."

Manager Scott nodded and bowed, grinning obsequiously at Henry Bolton, wanting to sit but not daring to.

Henry Bolton nodded back, when suddenly he felt a wave of enthusiasm from behind. Turning around, he saw a short man with a smile so warm it could melt him. Before Accountant Grant could speak, the man introduced himself: "My surname is Sun, and I’m in charge of the income from the southern market."

By now, Henry Bolton was starting to understand. He smiled at Chief Steward Grant: "Just now, Head Accountant Grant said he’s responsible for compiling and summarizing accounts, so the other manager must be in charge of expenditures. Am I right?"

"Young Master Eighteen is absolutely right! Manager Young is in charge of expenditures."

Chief Steward Grant chuckled, pointing to a corner of the room. Suddenly, he frowned and asked someone nearby, displeased: "Where is Manager Young?"

"Manager Young hasn’t come in this morning. I heard his father’s old gout is acting up again these days."

"Tell him to come quickly!"

Even when angry, Accountant Grant’s voice was soft and gentle, but the junior clerks understood—this young man who came today was probably no ordinary person. Two of Manager Young’s assistants had already rushed out.

Henry Bolton quickly waved his hand and smiled: "There’s plenty of time, Head Accountant, no need to be so formal."

Chief Steward Grant was quite displeased. This Manager Young, relying on being the third master’s confidant, usually paid him lip service, but today he didn’t even show respect. He had even specially reminded him about this yesterday!

Thinking of this, Chief Steward Grant said coldly, "Young Master Eighteen, you may not know, but it’s the end of the month and time to close the accounts. I’m still waiting for his expenditure summary! The master is at home these days, and if he wants to see the accounts, how am I supposed to answer?"

As soon as Chief Steward Grant finished speaking, a servant came running in, flustered. "Head Accountant, the master is calling you!"

Chief Steward Grant was stunned, then turned to leave. At the door, he remembered Henry Bolton, so he pointed to the account books on Manager Young’s desk and smiled: "I’ll be right back. If you’re interested, Young Master Eighteen, feel free to look at the account books on Manager Young’s desk."

...

Chief Steward Grant hurried to the small building where Edward Bolton lived. After waiting a moment, the gatekeeper came out and said, "Master invites you in!"

The word "invite" made Chief Steward Grant’s heart tremble. In his memory, it was extremely rare for the master to use the word "invite" with him. But he relaxed a little—apparently, the master wasn’t going to ask about the September accounts.

"Master, did you need something?" Chief Steward Grant spoke softly, not daring to disturb Edward Bolton, who was bent over his desk practicing calligraphy.

Edward Bolton wrote a few more characters, then put down his brush, looked up at Chief Steward Grant, and smiled slightly: "Old Grant, I heard you finally have a grandson?"