"Are you sure?" Henry Bennett set down his bowl, more or less able to understand Edward Bennett's actions now. Vera Grant had definitely entrusted his child to his father, so no matter how much of a fool Samuel Grant was, since his father had agreed, he had to do his best to take care of him.

Earl Howard Bennett added, "Look at him, a boy with such delicate features, like a pearl or jade—he's got a good fate. He didn't inherit his biological father's business, but coming to our family, he still gets a share."

Henry Bennett only smiled without saying a word, but the amusement at the corners of his eyes and brows betrayed all his disdain. This bit of disdain made Earl Howard Bennett feel a little awkward and somewhat stifled. After sitting for a while longer, he got up and left.

"Ambitious, aren't you." Henry Bennett said lightly, "You don't need to whisper in my ear. Whoever wants those few shops can have them. Is it really worth fighting over something that's barely hanging on?"

He never spared anyone's feelings—if he saw through something, he'd call it out; if he looked down on it, he'd spit on it. He found it odd, too: Yu Xiao Ji had declined again and again, so why did people still treat it like a treasure, afraid outsiders would take it? Couldn't they have a bit more ambition?

Henry Bennett lounged on the sofa, trying to summon some drowsiness, but after a good sleep, he was actually full of energy. It was the hottest part of the afternoon, and he planned to return to his bedroom to enjoy the air conditioning. The short walk from the front yard to the small courtyard left him drenched in sweat. As soon as he stepped through the archway, he froze beside the lucky bamboo.

Seats and railings along the north house corridor, stone tables and stools, the lawn and flowerbeds... every flat surface was covered with books spread open—there was hardly anywhere to step. Samuel Grant was squatting with his back to him in front of a box, pulling out another dozen books and running down the steps. When he saw Henry Bennett, his face was flushed and beaded with sweat: "Senior brother, some of the books got damp on the way. Is it okay if I dry them out?"

Henry Bennett said, "You've already laid them out, so why bother asking?"

"I'll bring them in as soon as the sun sets," Samuel Grant said, filling up the corridor in front of the south house as well.

Henry Bennett suddenly felt awkward in the courtyard he'd lived in for twenty years, like a greenhorn entering a brothel, or a gluttonous monk caught by the Buddha himself. He spent money like water, especially on materials and books, never keeping track. So, starting from a patch of lawn by the wall, he looked over the books one by one, his desire growing with every step.

Except for a few novels, almost all of Samuel Grant's books were related to antiques and curios, and there were even some that couldn't be found on the market. Henry Bennett walked to the stone table, dazzled by the selection, his eyes aching; when he thought about asking to borrow one, his mouth felt just as uncomfortable.

Samuel Grant hadn't even eaten, running back and forth under the scorching sun dozens of times without stopping. Now, exhausted and on the verge of heatstroke, he tossed the last few books onto the stone table and leaned against it, panting.

Henry Bennett immediately zeroed in on the book "As Mountain, As Sea," picked it up and stared at the cover. "I've been looking for this one for over half a year. When it comes to artifacts recovered from the sea and relics unearthed from mountains, this book is the most detailed."

Samuel Grant caught his breath. From being harshly criticized yesterday to being yelled at at noon, this was the first time the other party had spoken to him calmly. He understood what Henry Bennett meant—he wanted to take a look.

But he couldn't let him read for free, so he handed over the book and asked, "There are too many books. Can I store some in the study?"

Henry Bennett was secretly delighted, but kept a straight face as he took the book. "Go ahead and put some there."

"Thank you, senior brother." Samuel Grant quickly gathered up the books that weren't too damp and were almost dry, hurrying to put them in the study before Henry Bennett could change his mind. Besides, he was curious about what the study looked like and had wanted to see it for a long time.

The study was even more spacious than the bedroom, with tall cabinets and low chests, stacks of xuan paper half as tall as a person beside the desk, a carpet so thick it felt soft underfoot, and the air was filled with the scent of ink. Samuel Grant set down the books and curiously glanced at a painting on the desk. Before he could see the painting clearly, his eyes were caught by a golden bookmark at the corner of the desk.

A sheet of pure gold, thick as paper in some places, thin as a cicada's wing in others, gleaming with the brilliance of a cloud—far more exquisite than he'd imagined.

Samuel Grant didn't have time to admire it. Holding his breath, he ran back out to the courtyard, rushed straight up to Henry Bennett, and snatched the book from his hands. Henry Bennett had just finished reading the table of contents and said irritably, "What's gotten into you?"

Samuel Grant was flushed with anger. "The gold bookmark is right there on the desk—go see for yourself!"

Henry Bennett feigned ignorance. "Then I must have remembered wrong. It wasn't in the book after all."

"Give me back the jade earrings!" Samuel Grant grabbed Henry Bennett's clothes in a panic, making as if to head to the bedroom. "My master gave those to me. I didn't lose the bookmark, so don't think you can pocket my things."

Henry Bennett shook him off sharply. "Pocket? Who wants them?!"

He went inside and fetched the earrings. He'd never really wanted them—he'd just wanted to study the craftsmanship for a couple more days. "Here, here, take them!" He shoved them into Samuel Grant's hand. The earring hook seemed to prick Samuel Grant's palm, but he didn't care—he was still thinking about the book.

Samuel Grant wasn't afraid of Henry Bennett at all. Now, he left briskly, even taking the book "As Mountain, As Sea" with him.

The doors to both bedrooms closed at the same time. Just a wall apart, yet it felt like a chasm. Samuel Grant put the book on the windowsill to continue drying it. His stomach growled, and he spotted a box of peach crisps on the table.

That box of peach crisps was from Grace Carter. He felt that, in this house, Grace Carter treated him the best.

Samuel Grant couldn't bear to eat too many, so he nibbled one slowly, but was still hungry. So he dug out a bag of southern red agate to distract himself. He picked a piece with red and white coloring, started sketching, his wrist steady and fingers sure, the lines flowing in one go. As soon as he finished the drawing, he began to carve.