William Carter examined the table knife and felt that although it wasn’t particularly sharp, its material and tempering must surely surpass the bronze wares of this era. If sharpened, it would make an excellent tool for cutting meat.

　　While he was pondering this, footsteps sounded in the courtyard. William Carter quickly tidied up his bundle and turned to sit upright, facing the doorway.

　　Entering were William Carter’s writing teacher and etiquette teacher, one named Samuel Clark, the other Simon Clark. Although both bore the “Shi” title, the two shared no blood relation, as “Shi” was not their surname but rather an honorific for their profession.

　　Ethan Brooks had invited several teachers for William Carter, but the others seemed to have no particular status; after teaching William Carter their respective subjects, they would immediately disappear from the estate. Those teachers came and went, but only Samuel Clark and Simon Clark remained constant, suggesting their status was higher.

　　Of the two, Samuel Clark seemed to be the leader. He was in his fifties, thin and wiry. As soon as he entered, he twitched his goatee and asked William Carter, “‘Master (lord),’ I heard you’re looking for a pottery master, and specifically one from the state of Lu. Besides, if you really want to fire pottery, why go to such trouble? Whatever pottery you need, just order the slaves to make it—there’s no need to do it yourself. Is this how a lord, a noble, should behave?”

　　Simon Clark was a bit older. As the etiquette teacher, he cared even more about noble decorum, but he handled matters of rank and propriety better than Samuel Clark. While Samuel Clark nagged, he merely echoed in support, nodding repeatedly and rambling on to William Carter about various “role models.” Though he didn’t directly criticize, his words made William Carter feel even more uncomfortable. He kept repeating essentially one point: as a “responsible” noble, one’s conduct should be such-and-such, and one should not personally get involved with slaves, playing with clay...

Chapter Four: Cooking a Good Pot of Soup Is Hard (Part One)

　　William Carter impatiently stomped his foot and muttered in modern language under his breath, “All I want is to cook a good pot of soup—do they really have to lecture me so much? What does it matter how Duke Jing drank soup, how Duke Hui grew up, or how Duke Huan dined? What’s that got to do with me... Fine, time to use my art of persuasion. As a ‘responsible’ modern person, if I can’t master a few tricks from Uncle Benshan after watching over a decade of Spring Festival Galas, it’s all been for nothing.”

　　William Carter paced a few circles on the ground, organized his thoughts, and then replied in the language of the Spring and Autumn period. With just one sentence, he silenced Samuel Clark: “I already understand the principles you’ve explained—so, what I’m doing now, is it beneficial to the Zhao clan?”

　　It was pure youthful competitiveness. William Carter had prepared a bellyful of rebuttals, ready for a grand debate. But now, seeing everyone suddenly fall silent, William Carter instead felt a sense of loss, as if a punch full of strength had landed on empty air, leaving him stifled and uncomfortable. He opened his mouth, thinking: Indeed, in this world, only interests are the eternal driving force of politics. All that noble demeanor and social etiquette—if there’s enough benefit, it’s all nonsense!

　　Hmm, both teachers are very stubborn and not easily swayed from their principles. Why did they suddenly go quiet? Could there be some other secret here? Could what I’m doing be so beneficial that, after a moment’s thought, they immediately know what to give up and what to keep?!

　　Forget it. Now that I’m a major landowner with my own fief, why be so polite with subordinates? Being too polite isn’t like the ancients at all... William Carter immediately waved his hand with authority: “I also need a few farmers, preferably those skilled in gardening and horticulture. Go and find me some at once...”

　　Without waiting for the two teachers to reply, William Carter picked up a scroll and pretended to bury himself in reading, ignoring everyone else... After a moment, the sound of footsteps quietly faded as the two teachers withdrew.

　　A short while later, Ethan Brooks came in again with the two teachers, and immediately asked, “I just heard... Time is pressing. Why is ‘Master (lord)’ worrying about pottery instead of studying properly?”

　　William Carter put down the scroll in his hand and answered frankly, “Soup! It’s all for a good pot of soup! The food here is terrible, and my servant Ethan thinks it’s because the tableware is awful. He wants to make me a clay pot. —That’s all there is to it!”

　　Ethan Brooks was silent for a moment, then turned and instructed Samuel Clark, “The master has given an order—go and find someone at once.”

　　Samuel Clark nodded in agreement. Ethan Brooks turned back and pointed at the bamboo slip in William Carter’s hand, saying, “Your accent still sounds a bit odd, you need more practice... If it’s really not working, please try to speak as little as possible, that’s also a coping strategy. Time is short, so please practice more, I’ll take my leave now.”

　　William Carter suddenly remembered something and quickly called out to Ethan Brooks, “Wait, hold on: just now, when I was standing in the courtyard...”

　　William Carter had only said a few words when Ethan Brooks hurriedly waved for the two teachers to leave, then turned back, dropping his formal demeanor and speaking casually: “Young master, you speak too freely in front of outsiders. Some things are better discussed in private.”

　　William Carter nodded, indicating he understood, then walked to the window, pointed to the distant ridge, and asked, “I heard this is the state of Jin... I saw that half the ridge on the distant mountain is black. What is that black stuff? Could it be coal?”

　　Ethan Brooks turned to look and gently shook his head.