In the days that followed, everyone became busier than ever before. Mr. Turner continued to diligently fulfill his promise, even though he hadn’t actually agreed to anything specific. He had to set up his stall to write, find time to copy Buddhist scriptures, help compose plaques at the temple, and restore stone inscriptions—juggling all these tasks at once, he was busier than ever. Sometimes, when he truly couldn’t make it home, he would just sleep at Tianfei Palace.

As for Mr. Brooks, it was the same. He would get up before dawn to knead dough, chop fillings, and make buns.

After finally finishing the morning’s business, he would immediately run to the back, pick up his adze, chisel, axe, and saw, and get to work with a constant clatter. He often worked until the middle of the night, and even such a sturdy man would be too exhausted to climb into bed.

Mrs. Brooks had it even worse. Small accessories and trinkets were the most troublesome to make. She had to help purchase all kinds of materials, and after making them, inspect each one to ensure top quality and exquisite craftsmanship.

Fortunately, Mrs. Brooks knew a lot of people and was efficient and decisive in her work. If it were someone else, they probably couldn’t keep up even if the money was right in front of them.

But despite the busyness, everyone was happy to do it. Mrs. Brooks had calculated that the procurement cost for an ordinary bracelet was only five wen, and William Turner set the price at ten wen. For each bracelet, she could earn five wen, which was equivalent to selling twenty buns.

If it weren’t for the uncertainty of this business’s future, she would have wanted to close her shop and focus solely on this.

Although everyone was busy, the instigator of it all was as carefree as could be. William Turner at most helped Mrs. Brooks brainstorm ideas, design some patterns, and occasionally his father would call him over to help. But his handwriting couldn’t compare to his father’s; after writing a couplet or copying a few pages of Buddhist scriptures, Mr. Turner would silently toss them into the wastebasket after looking them over.

“No need, I’m too lazy to write anyway!”

So William Turner simply went home to read and write. When he had free time, he would go out to buy some meat and vegetables and cook a few tasty dishes to bring to his father.

Whenever this happened, Mr. Turner would be extremely pleased, sitting at the temple gate, eating heartily in front of the working craftsmen, his mouth covered in oil, showing off as much as he could.

Of course, this was just what William Turner thought. If Mr. Turner knew, he’d have nowhere to cry: “You think I want to? You only ever bring meat dishes!”

But after eating like this for more than half a month, he did put on a bit of weight—his son’s cooking really wasn’t bad.

Time flew by, and tomorrow would be the fifteenth of the seventh month, the legendary Ghost Festival. According to folk tradition, on the first day of the seventh month, the gates of the underworld open, and the spirits of the dead come to the human world to observe the deeds of their descendants, who must take the opportunity to offer sacrifices. After the seventh month, the gates close, and if the descendants haven’t made offerings, the lonely ghosts will wander the human world for a whole year!!

Letting one’s ancestors suffer is a grave sin. If the ancestors become angry, the descendants will be in trouble.

No matter whether a family is rich or poor, they must buy incense, candles, paper money, and ingots to send some money to their ancestors. More particular families will also buy chickens, ducks, and other livestock as offerings, and prepare all kinds of river lanterns. In short, there are many customs, dazzling to behold.

William Turner originally didn’t believe in these things, but since he had even experienced time travel, he had no reason not to believe anymore. Sitting in the carriage, he said, “Uncle Brooks, I’ll probably be busy at Tianfei Palace these next couple of days. When you have time tomorrow, please bring some paper money and offerings. My father and I need to pay respects to our ancestors.”

“Alright, Young Master, don’t worry. I’ll deliver the things and then go buy them right away.”

As they spoke, the carriage sped up, and just after noon, they arrived at the gates of Tianfei Palace.

After a month, the front gate of Tianfei Palace had been mostly restored. The newly made golden plaque at the main entrance, with the three characters “Tianfei Palace” written in a bold, flowing script, was the work of his father. Entering the mountain gate, there was the Hall of Heavenly Kings, with statues of the Four Generals of the Mo family, each imposing and fierce, with menacing faces—one holding a sword, one a pipa, one an umbrella, and one a serpent. The painted decorations were very impressive.

Beside them stood a bluestone stele, inscribed with an introduction to the Four Generals of the Mo family—no need to ask, it was also written by his father.

In front of the main hall was a small open space, with a huge incense burner in the center. Nearby, incense and candles were piled up like a small mountain, all in preparation for tomorrow.

William Turner often came by, and it was as if nothing had ever happened between him and Edward Clark. When they met, they were always polite and courteous, just like friends. The young monks in the temple liked William Turner even more—after all, he always had so many strange and interesting stories in his head!

When Charles Grant saw William Turner, he greeted him with a smile and asked mysteriously, “Young benefactor, are you free today?”

“What for?”

“Last time you promised to tell the story of the single-saber meeting. This little monk has been waiting for it!” Charles Grant looked at William Turner with admiration, pulling him along and saying, “Come on, tell me—did Lord Guan show his might and single-handedly kill all the traitors of Eastern Wu?”

William Turner was speechless. Aren’t you a monk? Why are you always talking about fighting and killing? To be honest, it was William Turner’s own fault for making a few comments about the Three Kingdoms, which had made the young monks his fans.

From the mid-Ming Dynasty onward, Guan Yu quickly became a national idol. Men learned from Guan Yunzhang, women from Wang Baochuan. No one really knew how these two got paired together.