Suddenly, he saw memories of his interactions with that Mr. Carter appear among the pinhole-sized words. Frank Warren had first met him during the county exam; the other was two years older, and their rankings were third and fourth, respectively. Then, in the prefectural exam, their rankings were still right next to each other—thirteenth and fourteenth. However, in the provincial exam, perhaps due to performance on the spot, their essays differed slightly, and they ended up as the last two on the list, becoming comrades in misfortune, which made them even more familiar with each other. As he focused intently and read to the end, he found that familiar name again—Max Shaw—and there were several passages about him, saying that Mr. Carter had brought Max Shaw to meet him several times.

“There's no maid at home, only tenant servants to sweep and clean. If only Max Shaw could accompany me in my studies, how could I ever feel lonely!”

At the end, perhaps written in a moment of excitement, the last stroke of the character for “lonely” was drawn out extra long. Frank Warren couldn’t help but smile, and at the same time, he let out a huge sigh of relief.

After reading so many diary entries, he no longer felt, as he did at first, that the original Frank Warren was simply ignorant and deceived. Instead, he thought that boy was truly pitiful.

From a young age, he had been sent to the Wang family’s private school to study the classics, spending every day tediously learning the Four Books and Five Classics, with no summer or winter breaks, and hardly any social interaction. Apart from the teacher and classmates at the private school, he rarely came into contact with outsiders. When it came time to prepare for the county, prefectural, and provincial exams, the training was even more grueling than modern college entrance exam boot camps. He was locked at home with a seasoned scholar to tutor him, did who knows how many practice essays, studied countless works by predecessors, and was taught all sorts of exam strategies. In the diary, he had even solemnly written that “of all evils, lust is the worst; of all virtues, filial piety comes first”—the family motto. Since he woke up, he hadn’t seen any maids except for his sisters, which showed how strict the family discipline was.

But the elders had forgotten: what should a fourteen-year-old boy’s mind really be like! Fortunately, the thing he worried about most hadn’t happened. It was a false alarm—thank heavens, thank the Buddha!

“Don’t, don’t sell my mother…”

Frank Warren was lost in thought when he suddenly heard these indistinct words. He immediately looked toward the head of the bed, only to see that James Gold hadn’t woken up, but was muttering in his sleep, his face showing a trace of panic.

“Don’t sell my mother… Brother, I beg you…”

“Mother… don’t cry… When I grow up… I’ll definitely come find you…”

“Confucius said: ‘To learn and to practice what is learned at due intervals, is this not a pleasure…’”

At first, Frank Warren listened with a frown, thinking that James Gold’s older brother Autumn Warren was truly despicable—not only selling his half-brother, but not even sparing the boy’s birth mother. But when he heard the last bit of mumbling, he couldn’t help but feel both amused and exasperated. Listening closely, he realized that James Gold was reciting the Analects, and though some parts were indistinct, the parts he could hear were fluent and accurate, not missing a single word. He was finding it interesting when the murmuring suddenly stopped. Looking down, he saw James Gold groggily open his eyes, lift his head slightly, and as soon as their eyes met, he jolted upright.

“Father… you’re awake!”

Couldn’t he change that form of address!

Frank Warren couldn’t help but feel his temples throb again, so he cut straight to the point: “James Gold, do you talk in your sleep?”

This simple question made James Gold jump up like a startled kitten. He stumbled back two steps, then realized his loss of composure, bit his lip, knelt down, and said softly, “Father, I didn’t mean to. My brother has hit me many times, but I just can’t change. What did I say in my sleep?”

“You didn’t say much.” Frank Warren smiled with an air of magnanimity. Seeing James Gold visibly relieved, the corners of his mouth curled up in a sly arc. “You just recited a long passage from the Analects.”

“Huh?” James Gold didn’t take this as a joke. His lips instantly lost all color, and suddenly realizing something, he began banging his head on the floor, crying, “Father, I won’t dare again, I’ll never dare again! I won’t dare to eavesdrop on people reading at the school, and I won’t dare to secretly practice writing anymore!”

Frank Warren hadn’t expected James Gold to react so strongly and was startled. He was about to get out of bed to help him up when a voice came from outside the door.

“Little brother, is that you awake?”

Recognizing his eldest sister’s voice, Frank Warren immediately whispered to James Gold, “Get up, big sister is here! If you make her angry, do you still want to stay?”

James Gold scrambled up from the floor, his forehead already bruised. He didn’t dare cry out in pain, and hurriedly stumbled to the door, carefully opened it, and called out with his hands at his sides, “Big sister.”

Grace Warren glanced at James Gold, her brows knitting slightly. “What happened to your forehead?”

“Ah? I… I just dozed off while watching over father, and when I was startled awake, I accidentally fell and bumped it!” James Gold hurriedly lowered his head even more, not daring to look up.

Grace Warren said nothing more. She gestured for James Gold to withdraw, and when she came to Frank Warren, she hesitated a little before asking, “Little brother, why did that Mr. Carter send someone over yesterday?”

Frank Warren was still pondering James Gold’s unusually intense reaction, turning over the reasons in his mind while also considering his own predicaments, so he replied absentmindedly, “Anyway, I didn’t accept the person. You don’t need to worry, big sister.”