Mr. Turner scratched his head. He really was scared of being poor, but the brat did make sense. Suddenly, he felt he was making a fuss over nothing, sheepishly put the silver by the bedside, and sat down next to William Turner.

  "Yi'er, then what do you think we should do next? Your father will listen to you!"

  "You'll really listen to me?"

  "Of course, who told you to be so capable!"

  William Turner understood as well—if he didn't calm his father down, there was no way he'd get a good night's sleep.

  "Father, actually, I've thought about it for a long time. We still need to go back to Taicang Prefecture. Two hundred taels is enough to buy a small house. Renting isn't a solution. I want to study at a private school for a few years. Of all pursuits, studying is the most important. If I want to make something of myself, I have to take the imperial exams."

  Mr. Turner nodded in deep agreement. "Yi'er, that's insightful. I thought the same. We came to Liuhe Fort in the first place because it was cheap, but now it seems I was short-sighted. Tomorrow, I'll go back to Taicang to find a suitable house. Once we're settled, I'll look for a job to earn money. You just focus on your studies. I'll support you. The future of our Tang family depends on you!"

  The more Mr. Turner thought about it, the happier he became, and as a result, he couldn't sleep at all. It wasn't until the fourth watch of the night that he finally dozed off in a daze. The next day, by noon, he still hadn't gotten up. Let alone going to Taicang, even lunch was left untouched.

  William Turner lost interest as well, so he had no choice but to run to the The Brooks Family noodle shop for a bowl of noodles to fill his stomach.

  As soon as William Turner walked in, the lady manager beamed and hurried over, gratefully saying, "Young master, we really owe it all to you! That old rascal and the abbot at the temple have come to an agreement. You've really given us a way to make money! I was even thinking, once we make some money, we should give you a share!"

  After saying this, she was clearly testing him, her heart in her throat. William Turner understood perfectly. Now that he had silver, he was even less inclined to haggle with the lady manager.

  "Aunt Brooks, you're too kind. Making money is up to you all. I just made the introduction!" William Turner said modestly with a smile. "If you really want to thank me, just get me a bowl of noodles. I haven't eaten anything this morning!"

  "Coming right up!"

  The lady manager replied with a smile, her face blooming with joy. In no time, a big bowl of noodles was brought over. In her excitement, she even added four poached eggs, making William Turner feel a bit embarrassed—he really looked like a glutton!

  Well, a glutton is a glutton. The important thing was to fill his belly first. William Turner picked up his chopsticks. The steaming hot noodles warmed both his mouth and his heart. In no time, sweat was beading on his forehead.

  As he was eating, a young man in his early twenties sat at the table across from him. He wore short clothes, a melon cap, and had a piece of dog skin plaster stuck to his temple—who knows how long it had been there. A short knife lay on the table beside him.

  Banning weapons among civilians was the cowardly practice of barbarians. In the Ming Dynasty, commoners were allowed to carry weapons like knives and swords. However, armor and banners were forbidden—if caught, it would be treated as rebellion.

  Though the rules were like this, ordinary people wouldn't carry weapons around for no reason. People like this were usually local ruffians or hired thugs—regular folks kept their distance.

  This guy stared at William Turner for a long time, then suddenly stood up and slapped the table.

  "Your surname is Tang, right?"

  William Turner was sipping the fragrant, rich bone broth. Seeing the guy's manner, he frowned a little.

  "That's right. What do you want?"

  "Haha! So it really is you, kid!" The guy instantly perked up, rolling up his sleeves, making William Turner feel a bit uneasy.

  "Let me ask you, did you change the shop sign a while back and trick Wang Sancai? And did you help Mr. Brooks get new business?"

  "I suppose so!"

  "So that means you're the smartest person in Liuhe Fort!"

  Pfft, William Turner almost spat out his soup. What kind of logic is that? Before he could explain, the guy muttered to himself, "How does that saying go? Hearing isn't as good as seeing..."

  "It's 'hearing is false, seeing is believing.'"

  "Right, that's it! Okay! Listen up, kid. I've got something I need your help with. But first, I have to test if you're really smart."

  William Turner was speechless. Whether or not he was smart had nothing to do with this guy—who was he to test him?

  "Friend, I still need to—"

  "Listen up, it's about this table." The guy completely ignored William Turner and continued, "This table has four corners, right? If I chop off one corner with a single cut, how many corners are left?"

  So that's it. Seeing William Turner didn't answer, the guy grinned smugly. "No rush, take your time. My grandpa tested me with this when I was a kid. I thought about it for three days before I got it. My grandpa even said I was smart enough to be a top scholar!"

  If you could be a top scholar, then that title wouldn't be worth much.

  William Turner had zero interest in this kind of childish trick. But the guy gripped his knife handle, clearly not letting him leave without an answer.

  William Turner glanced around and saw the lady manager simmering soup nearby—an idea came to him.

  "Heh heh, if you chop off one of the four corners, of course there are three left. That's hardly a challenge for anyone!"