Frank Miller looked at him in astonishment. “Back then, when I was staying at the military camp, I heard you drunkenly declare that you wished only for the Great Tang’s prosperity to last ten thousand years, and that you would die for it if necessary. With such a passionate young man, if I hadn’t dragged you back to Chang’an, you would have died on the northern frontier sooner or later.”

But you can’t deceive me like this!

At that time, Frank Miller had insisted that the Mirror Terrace needed people like him to serve the country, so he had come happily. But after several years, he was still just a pawn. Supposedly serving the country, but in these years he spent more time watching the powerful in Chang’an, not much different from a watchdog. All this left William Harris quite dissatisfied, full of complaints.

Frank Miller suddenly put on a stern face. “Overstepping your authority is not a good thing. Don’t act on your own in the future—report to me first if anything comes up, remember that. Also, since Peter Thompson told you to keep an eye on that young man, you must do it well. Watch closely, keep a tight watch, but don’t use crude methods. Be like the spring rain—gentle and silent.”

The relationship between the two was not ordinary; otherwise, for today’s overstepping report, William Harris would have been hated to death by Frank Miller. However, Frank Miller never sought to monopolize power, and his habit of avoiding work suited someone as ambitious as William Harris.

Frank Miller pointed to the sky. William Harris looked up and only then realized that it had started to rain at some point.

The spring rain was like silk, even like oil, falling on people without them feeling it. A few tender green shoots in the corner of the wall swayed gently in the rain, full of vitality.

Frank Miller squatted outside the duty room, tending a small stove, with a little pot of soup simmering on top. He was smiling blissfully, and William Harris couldn’t help but shiver, thinking that the rumor might actually be true.

William Harris went off to look for Henry Clark, pondering how to approach this young man.

After a while, he raised an eyebrow. “If you want the Great Tang’s prosperity to last ten thousand years, you have to become a high official. The Mirror Terrace is a place that devours people without spitting out their bones. If I want to get promoted, I have to kill!”

“That young man looks a bit dumb, should be easy to kill. But… can I kill him? If he’s truly evil, then killing him is no big deal…”

Having killed Henry Clark several times in his mind, Henry Clark followed the address given by Charles Clark, searching along the way.

The streets of Chang’an were absurdly wide, bustling with carriages and horses, packed with people, everything in perfect order. Henry Clark carried a huge bundle on his back, looking around, the very picture of a country bumpkin.

“Weren’t there supposed to be ward walls?”

Henry Clark saw a gap in the wall by the street, revealing the buildings inside. The largest building was magnificent, with two doormen standing outside, heads held high, smiling at him.

Someone in the village had once visited the county office and came back boasting, saying that Chang’an was full of ward walls, each containing a hundred thousand households, and that at night all lights had to be extinguished, or you’d be killed.

This was what Henry Clark hated most about Chang’an, but where were the ward walls?

The commoners came and went freely through the huge gap, and the patrolling soldiers nearby paid no attention.

“Young man, come have some tea!”

A woman called out. Henry Clark looked up and saw a window open on the second floor of a wooden building. More than ten women, dressed in a way that made his heart race, were waving at him. The third woman from the right was calling to him.

Is this a teahouse? But weren’t businesses forbidden inside the wards of Chang’an?

Henry Clark pointed to his own nose, his face as red as a monkey’s bottom. “You… you’re calling me?”

What does this woman want from me? Tea? Henry Clark had drunk tea before, at a wedding at the village head’s house, where they made a huge bucket of tea. He got a cup, tasted it carefully, found it awful, but still had to praise it like the other villagers. Later, Edward Clark also tried to be cultured and bought some of the cheapest coarse tea, but Henry Clark never got any.

The woman covered her mouth and giggled, her companions laughing even more wantonly. “Oh my! He’s a fledgling! Just arrived in Chang’an. Young man, come on, it won’t cost you anything.”

Henry Clark thought of a certain profession. The men in the village would often sit at the entrance chatting. Men, when gathered, besides talking about so-called world affairs, would talk about women. They mentioned the prostitutes in the county, saying some were beautiful but too expensive to visit.

Henry Clark lowered his head and walked away, and the women laughed even more recklessly.

An old man stood downstairs and shouted, “Flirting with young men in broad daylight—shameless!”

“Oh!”

A prostitute upstairs poked her head out. “Then how about I flirt with you?”

The old man replied righteously, “I am a man of integrity, don’t you dare…”

The prostitute waved, “Half price for you, and I’m good with my hands.”

The old man put on a stern face. “Nonsense. Huh! Why am I suddenly thirsty? I’ll go in and get a cup of hot tea.”

Henry Clark stood across the street, and the young man gloomily realized that Lily Thompson was right—there were many cunning people in Chang’an. Like this old man, who had just scolded the prostitute as if he were above worldly desires, but now went in with a serious face to visit her.

What do you call this? Hypocrisy?

Henry Clark shook his head, his mood improving again.

He found a woman and cupped his hands in greeting. “Excuse me, madam, where is Yongning Ward?”

The woman turned and pointed. “Go two wards ahead, then the third ward on the right.”

“Thank you.”

Henry Clark ran ahead excitedly. When he saw Yongning Ward, he carefully gave up squeezing through the broken wall or dog hole, and instead chose the main gate. At the main gate stood several burly men, who glared fiercely and asked, “Where are you from?”