Mr. Carter glanced at the utterly terrified Miss Grace. It seemed that Miss Grace truly had no idea someone was under the bed.

Who exactly was this kid?

A cloud of suspicion also rose in the mind of the Song Emperor James Carter, who had disguised himself as the wealthy merchant Mr. Carter in order to get close to his beloved courtesan Grace Thompson.

……

William Grant's gaze fell on the disheveled James Carter, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of respect.

Big Bro, your pants have fallen down, and yet you still have the leisure to cling to the girl's waist and refuse to let go.

"This little brother, your pants have fallen down."

Seeing James Carter start to fumble and pull up his pants, William Grant's eyes swept the room and landed on a golden phoenix hairpin on the dressing table.

He quickly darted forward, snatched it up, then raised it toward the still-stunned Miss Grace, giving her a quick wink.

"Miss, is this the hairpin you dropped from the loft?"

"……"

Chapter Two: The Emperor, the Scholar, and the Child

Miss Grace glanced back at James Carter, who was still fumbling with his pants, then looked at the inexplicable youth who had appeared from under the bed.

She resisted the urge to bend down and look under the bed, instead focusing on the handsome young man who kept winking at her.

Suppressing her inner panic, she forced a smile and played along.

"This little brother, did you come to bring this hairpin to your big sister?"

"Yes, yes... I just passed by below and saw this hairpin lying in the grass.

I figured it must be an ornament belonging to a beautiful lady."

"So I brought it in, but there was no one downstairs, so I came up.

I accidentally tripped, fainted, and just woke up—never thought I'd end up under the bed."

"Heh heh..." James Carter, who had just pulled up his pants, couldn't help but laugh in exasperation.

Like hell I believe you, kid. So young, and you can lie so smoothly.

There were so many holes in that story, it could only be described as full of flaws.

But right now, his belt still wasn't fastened, and his own secret visit here absolutely couldn't be exposed.

James Carter began to rack his brains, thinking about how to resolve this awkward situation.

At that moment, the door was gently knocked, and a low, suppressed voice came through.

"Sir, is there anything you need..."

"Nothing."

James Carter, still fumbling with his belt, replied.

Things were a bit awkward, his mind was a mess—he needed to calm down first.

Just then, the hostess of the room, Miss Grace, walked up to the young man and took the hairpin from him.

Her mind was equally muddled; she had no idea how to handle the situation.

She didn't even dare look under the bed, afraid she might see not a young man, but some old, wrinkled pervert.

Seeing that everyone was awkward and no one knew what to do next, William Grant felt he should do something to break the tension.

Mainly, he had a bit of OCD—seeing the beautiful Miss Grace's makeup so obviously smudged made William Grant feel uncomfortable all over.

So he casually picked up an eyebrow pencil from the dressing table and said to the stunning beauty Miss Grace,

"Miss, your makeup is smudged. If you don't mind, let me fix it for you?"

Before he finished speaking, the pencil in William Grant's hand was already raised, gently brushing and skillfully shaping the beauty's brows...

With his belt finally fastened, James Carter gradually regained his composure after the earlier panic and confusion.

He saw the delicate-featured, red-lipped youth standing on tiptoe, adding to the beauty's eyebrows.

He also heard the youth's clear voice ring out again.

"Sis, you're so beautiful, and your face shape is perfect. Your eyebrows should be a bit longer and slightly arched—that would look even better..."

The beauty with the mole looked in astonishment at the bronze mirror on the dressing table, seeing her brows after a few strokes from the youth.

The slightly arched tails of her brows seemed to add a touch more allure, and she couldn't help but be surprised.

"You—you’re so young, where did you learn to do eyebrows like this..."

A graduate of a 21st-century art academy with a government job, William Grant gave an adorable, harmless smile and instinctively replied modestly,

"Nothing special, just practice..."

The stunning beauty Grace Thompson, with her striking beauty mark, gently touched her brows in amazement, looking at his handsome, red-lipped face and that smiling, cute expression.

It made Grace Thompson want to pinch his fair, tender cheeks and playfully scold him as a cheeky little rascal.

At this moment, James Carter, now with his belt fastened, stepped forward and wrapped his arm around Grace Thompson's slender waist, as if declaring his claim.

"Youth, since you entered by mistake, you should leave now."

"Alright, then I won't disturb you two any longer."

William Grant's smile was innocent and harmless, perfectly playing the part of a clueless, naive teenager.

He strode toward the door, and as he opened it, he saw a large group of people standing outside.

A middle-aged man with a pale, beardless face and sinister eyes, and behind him, four tough, cold-faced men with their hands resting on the hilts of their swords.