After pondering for a long time, John Thompson wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with those scattered fragments of memory in his mind, but judging from his current physical state, there didn’t seem to be any adverse effects. The lotus seed in his heart and the lotus flower in his palm existed naturally.

“Little Lang!”

A call pulled John Thompson, who was gazing at the simple lotus flower in his palm, out of his contemplation.

Looking at the man in front of him, whose appearance vaguely resembled his own, he couldn’t help but call out, “Big Brother!”

David Thompson had three sons: the eldest, Mark Thompson; the second, William Thompson; and the youngest, John Thompson. Unless the three brothers gained another younger sibling, only then would Xiao Bai have the chance to honorably pass on the title of the youngest and officially take on the name Sanlang.

It’s just like the riddle about Tom King’s mother, who had three sons: Da Mao, Er Mao, and the third is definitely not called San Mao—a clever twist.

Looking at it now, Old Li was also a devoted man. Ever since the mother of the three brothers passed away, he had been left all alone, without even the thought of taking a concubine to warm his bed. Aside from not chanting Buddhist scriptures, not living in a thatched hut, and having an extra meal at night, he was almost no different from Master Zhi Du outside the town.

John Thompson hadn’t expected that his eldest brother Mark Thompson, who was always traveling in search of immortality and rarely came home, would suddenly appear before him.

Perhaps guessing his doubts, Mark Thompson smiled and said, “This time, I’m back for good. I’ll stay home and rest for a while.”

Although he wore a gentle smile, there was a hint of disheartenment in his tone.

“Big Brother, did you find an immortal?”

In this world, there are mortals, demons, and immortals. John Thompson was very curious about these unscientific things.

Mark Thompson’s expression froze for a moment, then he shook his head and said with a bitter smile, “I left home to travel at thirteen, and now I’m twenty-five. In these twelve years, I’ve mostly encountered swindlers and charlatans—where are the immortals? Even if there really are immortals, they might not care for someone as ordinary as me. How could mortal eyes recognize a true immortal! Sigh!”

All for a single obsession, more than a decade of searching for immortals ended in a sigh. The eldest son of the Li family had returned to the starting point, forced to come home in disappointment.

“Little Lang! Little Lang! The master wants you in the front hall! Master Wu has brought the young lady of the Wu family over.”

The second steward, Charles Thompson, came running back from the front yard, sweating profusely.

“Big Brother!”

John Thompson shot Mark Thompson an apologetic look. If the second steward hadn’t come to call him, he would have been quite interested in hearing his big brother’s story of seeking immortals.

“Go on!”

Mark Thompson nodded at him.

“Big Brother, we’ll talk later!”

John Thompson immediately followed the second steward to the front hall of the mansion.

“...Rest assured, Master, Grace will be perfectly safe here with me. My The Thompson Family may not have much else, but we can certainly keep someone safe. Oh, Little Lang is here, come quickly and greet the master!”

From a distance, he could hear David Thompson’s voice in the front hall, patting his chest as he spoke to someone. When he saw John Thompson, he immediately waved him over.

“Father!”

John Thompson looked at a middle-aged man in a grayish-white coarse hemp robe, hurried forward a few steps, and bowed deeply, respectfully saying, “Greetings, Master!”

This was the so-called future father-in-law.

David Thompson had specially arranged a marriage for John Thompson. If it weren’t for the incident a few days ago—peeping at tofu beauty Widow Jiao, then disappearing for three days, and the bandit Old Knife leading his men to break through the pass—at this point, the two families might already be preparing for the wedding.

The middle-aged man in the robe looked John Thompson up and down, stroked his several-inch-long beard, and said, “Mm! It’s good you’re back. Don’t be so reckless in the future!”

He didn’t seem to care about the rumors on the street.

After all, who hasn’t been wild or rebellious in their youth? Compared to David Thompson’s “back in my day,” Little Thompson was practically a model child—what’s there to complain about?

“Thank you, Master!”

John Thompson bowed deeply again. When he looked up, he saw that in the front hall, besides David Thompson and Master Wu, there was also a young lady.

She wore a lotus-green, water-blue-edged cross-collared high-waisted ruqun, her hair in a lofty bun adorned with a gold hairpin set with a red jade bead, holding an indigo batik cloth bundle with a rose pattern. Her skin was like snow and jade, her chin delicately pointed, her features exquisite—phoenix eyes, moth eyebrows, a fine and elegant nose. She was charming and lovely, in the prime of her youth, and perhaps because she was born into a scholarly family, her temperament carried a touch of tranquility and refinement, different from ordinary village girls.

“Many blessings, Brother Xiao Bai!”

Noticing John Thompson’s gaze, the young lady of the Wu family immediately blushed, both happy and shy, and quickly bent to give a formal greeting.

“Sister Grace!”

John Thompson came to his senses and returned the bow.

David Thompson truly was a model father—he hadn’t found him a big, burly, wide-hipped woman, the kind said to be good for bearing children. Xiao Bai secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

If the full score was one hundred, this nine-head-tall beauty before him would score ninety-nine—one point withheld just to avoid arrogance.