Philip Brooks thought the same—if these two kept crying and making a scene at the door, drawing outsiders’ attention to their situation, that would truly be a disaster.

Hearing the young master’s command, Mr. Franklin, though unwilling, could only open the main gate and let the two enter.

Section Nine: The First Accidental Encounter

When Stephen Carter saw the two people rushing out from the alley across the street to plead at the door, he knew his opportunity had come.

Such a wealthy household would never let outsiders in easily; even if you knocked and got the door open, you might not receive shelter. He hadn’t expected that two people would take the lead and actually be allowed inside.

While feeling some regret, Stephen Carter didn’t hesitate at all. He strode swiftly up the steps, signaling the old woman to hurry and bring the little girl along.

Brian Brooks hadn’t expected that opening the door to one group would bring in another—were they all treating his home as some kind of shelter?

Philip Brooks and Mr. Franklin both looked displeased, but this was not the time for hesitation. Brian Brooks couldn’t be bothered to say more; he didn’t even wait for the newcomers to speak before waving his hand: “Let them all in, and close the door quickly!”

He figured these three wouldn’t be able to cause much trouble—a young man with an old woman and a child. If the bandits really had such elaborate plans to send in undercover agents, so be it.

With a creak, the main gate closed, and everyone finally breathed a little easier.

Philip Brooks sheathed his waist saber, his sharp gaze sweeping over the newcomers.

The one who had pleaded earlier now cupped his fists and bowed deeply, speaking earnestly: “Thank you for your rescue. I, William Harris, have nothing to repay you with. If…”

Stephen Carter said nothing more, simply stepped forward, bowed slightly, and saluted with clasped hands.

Philip Brooks glanced at Little Ethan, who was frowning and silent, then said in a deep voice, “Who are you, and why have you come here?”

“I am William Harris from Jinling, a merchant by family trade. I have long heard of Linqing’s reputation and came to see if there might be suitable business opportunities. I never expected to encounter such an incident…”

Brian Brooks stood in the corridor, observing this middle-aged man in a gray silk robe. Though he didn’t speak in a scholarly manner, he was still refined and courteous—clearly not an ordinary merchant.

The founding emperor of this dynasty was himself from a merchant background, and the attitude toward merchants was far better than in the previous Ming. Still, the notion that merchants were unfit for the main hall was deeply ingrained, so the gentry class continued to look down on them.

Jiangnan was a gathering place for merchants, with powerful merchant groups in Huizhou, Suzhou, Longyou, and so on. The Huizhou and Shanxi merchants were the two largest merchant factions in the Great Zhou.

“And you, sir?” Philip Brooks turned his gaze to the young man of about thirty before him.

He was a man of some experience, having spent years in the capital and seen his share of grand occasions. At a glance, he saw this man’s sword-like brows, starry eyes, straight nose, and square jaw, with an air of scholarly elegance—Philip Brooks’s impression of him improved.

“I am Joseph Carter from Huzhou. I was escorting my master’s daughter to the capital. Having long heard of the beauty of Suzhou and Hangzhou in the south and Linzhang in the north, I wished to come ashore for a look and perhaps buy a few things. I never expected, in broad daylight…” Stephen Carter did not reveal the young lady’s identity, only spoke of himself.

Master Lin Hai was the Salt Transport Censor of Yangzhou, a high-ranking official with great authority over salt permits. Though most of the northern salt came from Shanxi and Shaanxi, the canal made water transport convenient, and many daring salt smugglers secretly brought salt to Linqing Prefecture.

Though this family was not like merchants, it was possible they had relatives or friends involved in business. If the Lin family’s connection was known, it would only bring them unnecessary trouble.

His own trip to the capital was to use the Lin and Jia family connections to seek reinstatement, so he could not afford more complications.

Brian Brooks was still observing the man surnamed Jia, momentarily not reacting, pondering whether this man was a scholar, as he seemed to have an official’s bearing.

But then he heard him say he was escorting his master’s daughter to the capital—such a person even had a “master”? Could he be a retainer of some official family?

The Great Zhou followed Ming dynasty practices, especially since the founding emperor’s family were merchants, so scholars were held in high regard, and the imperial examination system was reestablished from the start.

The county, prefectural, provincial, metropolitan, and palace exams basically followed the Ming system. The county and prefectural exams were qualifying tests; passing the prefectural exam made one a “xiucai,” officially recognized as a scholar, but still ineligible for office.

The provincial exam was the most competitive—passing it made one a “juren,” qualified for office. Usually, with a bit of experience, one could become an official.

Passing the metropolitan exam was truly a leap—no matter how poor, one could become a seventh-rank county magistrate. As for staying in the capital to enter the Hanlin Academy or striving for a position as a “shujishi,” that depended on luck and connections.

By Great Zhou custom, only Hanlin scholars could enter the cabinet. That is, without experience in the Hanlin Academy, one could not serve in the core cabinet of the Great Zhou court. Even if one could serve in the Six Ministries or as a governor, entering the cabinet as a scholar was impossible.