Mr. Bolton absolutely refused to believe him. He had already handed over the money, yet now things were being reversed—how could there be such an easy bargain in this world? Grabbing hold of Arthur Coleman, he anxiously said, “There are only two options now: either Daoist, you return my money first, or you and your disciple leave one person here as collateral. Once it’s certain there’s no trouble, then he can go.”

At this moment, Mrs. Bolton also came over and said, “I think the key issue still lies with your disciple. Why not let him stay here to accompany my son? If you, Daoist, feel there’s any loss, we will naturally compensate you.” She turned and ordered, “Quick, bring five strings of cash!”

Immediately, someone brought over five strings of cash. Upon seeing the money, Daoist Arthur Coleman actually forgot his immortal status, and, further distracted by the sight of Mrs. Bolton’s white bosom, muddle-headedly accepted the money. Only when his hands felt the weight did he come to his senses. He first stuffed the money into his bag, then quietly said to Mr. Bolton, “I have no objection, but this matter requires my disciple’s own consent. I—I don’t have his indenture contract.”

Mr. Bolton, seeing himself lose another five strings of cash for nothing, was extremely annoyed, but dared not show the slightest dissatisfaction in front of his wife. He could only swallow his anger and run over to Emily Thompson, saying, “Young man! Your master is willing to let you stay. If you’re willing to stay for half a year, I promise to treat you well!”

“A whole year!” interjected Brian Bolton urgently from the side. Mr. Bolton, seeing his son’s mind was clear, was slightly surprised, but didn’t have time to think it over. He immediately changed his words: “A year, as long as you stay for a year.”

Emily Thompson was actually tempted. Only by settling down could he get things done. However, he had promised to carry the old Daoist’s bag for a year, and it wouldn’t be right to go back on his word. Now that the old Daoist had gotten his money and was willing to dissolve the verbal agreement, all the better.

He smiled and said, “I can stay, but there’s something I need to make clear first. I am not selling myself to your family; I’m just helping out, and at most, it’ll be for a year.”

“Well…” Mr. Bolton hesitated. Without a contract, he could leave at any time, and he himself would suffer a big loss.

“How about this: I’ll hire you as my son’s tutor, with room and board included, for a term of one year. We’ll sign a contract. If you complete the year, I’ll pay you ten strings of cash. If you leave halfway, you’ll have to compensate me ten strings.”

Daoist Arthur Coleman, afraid he would refuse, also chimed in loudly, “If you agree, the favor you owe me will be written off!”

“All right! I agree,” said Emily Thompson, thinking that since he had nothing else to do, he might as well use this year to get to know this era better.

Chapter Four: Complicated Human Relationships

“You’ll be staying in this room from now on. I’ll have someone bring a brazier in a bit. There’s also a full set of bedding and winter clothes here, all brand new. Young Master Thompson is a guest of the household, and Madam has instructed that you must not be neglected!” The second steward of The Bolton Residence, Luke Bolton, was showing Emily Thompson his quarters. He poked his head in to look at the furnishings, then sighed, “The conditions are a bit lacking. If this were my old master’s house, with your status, Young Master Thompson, you’d have a private courtyard and servants to wait on you.”

Luke Bolton was a middle-aged man with a kindly appearance. No matter the time, he always wore a smile and was warm and approachable, making people instinctively like him. Even Emily Thompson felt the chief steward was unnecessary. His quarters were in the west guest rooms, usually used for entertaining ordinary guests. The room was spacious and spotless, but it was the dead of winter, and the room faced away from the sun, making it feel especially cold. After standing for just a short while, Emily Thompson was shivering from the chill.

“Where was the second steward’s old residence? And how did you end up at The Bolton Residence?” Emily Thompson’s teeth chattered from the cold as he stomped his feet, trying in vain to drive away the chill.

“I came as part of Madam’s dowry. Madam’s family is in Xinzheng County.” Luke Bolton wanted to boast but didn’t want to go into detail, so he brushed it off and said, “I’ll go get you a brazier now. Young Master Thompson, please rest for a bit!”

“Thank you for your trouble, Second Steward. I’d like to go out and buy a few things—would that be convenient?”

“No problem, as long as you’re back before the hour of Hai!” Luke Bolton then remembered something, glanced around to make sure no one was near, and lowered his voice: “That chief steward is a very vengeful man. I heard Young Master Thompson offended him, so you should be careful. Best to avoid the east wing if you can.” At this, he sighed deeply: “He forms cliques in the household, and Madam has long hated him!” He shook his head repeatedly, looking as if he felt deeply guilty for not being able to relieve Madam’s worries.

“Thank you!” Emily Thompson looked at his round face and suddenly realized there seemed to be hidden daggers in his smile.

Yilong County wasn’t large. It used to be a higher-level county, but in the fourth year of Wude, part of it was split off to form Xinzheng County. Now it was a mid-level county with nearly five thousand households, but the county seat itself was small—the kind of town you could walk around three times while burning a single stick of incense.

Like all counties in Sichuan, Yilong was full of teahouses and idlers. Emily Thompson bought some daily necessities and strolled along the street. The street was lively, with snack vendors, piglet sellers, fortune-tellers, and people squatting in corners watching women…

As Emily Thompson walked along, he felt there wasn’t much difference from small counties in later times.

“Young master, you dropped something!”

Emily Thompson hadn’t noticed at all. It wasn’t until he had crossed a small bridge that a young woman came running up behind him, out of breath, holding something up and calling, “Young master, you dropped your comb.”