Edward Foster’s two families were closely connected. After his father died, many things were handled with the help of The Foster Family. They even tried to support him by letting him watch over the The Foster Family bookshop—basically giving him free food and rice. Even when he was unconscious a few days ago, they brought food every day.

Boss Henry Foster was in poor health, so it was always this little girl who delivered things.

Edward Jr. Sutton thought of this and glanced over. This was the little girl, only fourteen years old, with a petite figure, a face the size of a palm, crescent-shaped eyes, two dimples on her cheeks, and long hair tied up in a bun with two strands hanging down by her ears. She was a natural beauty, but her expression was fierce. As she spoke, her small hands pushed an oiled paper package into Edward Jr. Sutton’s hands, turned her face away, and stood on tiptoe to look at a package on the desk.

This was Brian Foster. Even standing on tiptoe, her chest barely reached the desk. Heaven knows, her chest was already flat enough—Edward Jr. Sutton estimated it formed a right angle with the tabletop.

“What are you looking at!” Brian Foster’s tone was a bit irritable. She glared at Edward Jr. Sutton, snatched the cloth bundle from the desk, and opened it to see three sets of chess manuals. Only then did her expression soften a little: “Thank you. These are your father’s belongings. I shouldn’t have asked to borrow them. Consider it a favor I owe you.”

“No need to be so polite.” Edward Jr. Sutton knew perfectly well that these chess manuals were common items—of course The Foster Family had them. The so-called borrowing was just a way to give and take, so he could accept the gift with peace of mind. This thought made him feel a bit dazed.

In his daze, Brian Foster finally looked up at him, still nagging: “Get well soon. Now that you’re not at the shop, that lecher keeps coming by.”

“Who’s the lecher?”

“Who else? The Cooper Family’s. He just became a constable and now comes to the shop every day.”

“I’ll drive him away!” Edward Jr. Sutton lifted his head and said seriously.

“You? Drive him away? Wait until you pass the county exam first!” Brian Foster rolled her eyes, her face and ears flushing slightly, her eyelashes trembling. She actually looked a bit charming. Just then, a knock came from outside, interrupting their conversation.

“Who is it?”

“Nephew, it’s me!”

The voice sounded somewhat familiar. Brian Foster opened the door with a creak. A middle-aged Daoist stood there, but there were no formal patterns on his sleeves or collar. He held an oiled paper package, which seemed to be a gift.

Warren Walker glanced casually at Brian Foster and called out, “Dear Nephew Sutton, I was an old friend of your father’s. I was busy recently and couldn’t come sooner. I’ve come to visit you now.”

“Ah, it’s a pity your father was so talented, yet died young without passing the exams. Truly a shame.” Warren Walker said as he stepped inside, placed the oiled package on the table, and unwrapped the mulberry paper to reveal a piece of fatty braised pork. He smiled and said, “Come, have some meat to nourish yourself. Your father used to buy this often. Sigh!”

Edward Jr. Sutton thanked him, his smile warm: “Though I haven’t met you many times, since you were my father’s friend, please have a seat. It’s cold and quiet here, but still better than the snowy weather outside.”

Warren Walker laughed at this, his gaze sweeping the room. He saw the desk by the south window, piled with inkstones, paper, and brushes, along with scissors and paste. The room was otherwise empty, so he sighed, “I didn’t expect things to be this impoverished. No wonder—your ancestral feng shui was broken, which not only harmed your father but also implicated you.”

“The family’s fortunes declined rapidly.”

Edward Jr. Sutton heard this, his smile unchanged, but his eyes froze and his brows furrowed. Could this be a swindler?

Just as he was thinking this, Brian Foster on the side was half-believing, half-doubting. She narrowed her crescent eyes and interjected, “What do you mean by that? Have you seen the The Sutton Family ancestral tomb?”

Warren Walker glanced at her, then turned to Edward Jr. Sutton and said, “I was friends with your father for many years, so of course I’ve seen it. Your ancestral tomb is built along the river, with mountains and water converging—a place of good fortune. White mist surrounds it, with a hint of red in the center. Though not a place for great wealth and nobility, it brings long-lasting blessings and can produce many scholars and successful candidates!”

At this, Warren Walker sighed with emotion.

“That’s why I was so shocked to hear of your father’s death. It shouldn’t have happened. I went to check today and found the ancestral tomb had been damaged. Not only is the blessing gone, but it’s turned into evil energy. You’re shrouded in bad luck. Forget about passing the county exam—even a disaster with bloodshed may be hard to avoid!”

Warren Walker shook his head and spoke slowly: “Moreover, I heard that the county constables want you to serve corvée labor this year, to help repair the river.”

Brian Foster, who had been listening all along, now felt this was nonsense and protested like a little tiger protecting her cub: “That’s impossible! Edward Jr. Sutton is a scholar, about to take the exams. How could he be sent to do corvée labor? Especially river work—he’s a weak scholar. What if he gets sick from the cold water?”

“You’re only a scholar after you’ve passed the exams.”

Warren Walker seemed to lament the harshness of the times, but his eyes were fixed on Edward Jr. Sutton: “You’re not even a tongsheng yet, right? Do you have money to pay the exemption fee? If not, you’ll have to go to the river in April—that’s the result of broken feng shui. Misfortune comes one after another!”

“……” Edward Jr. Sutton’s smile had vanished. It wasn’t out of fear, but because this routine felt very familiar. Anyone with social experience would recognize it. If it were a real teenager, he might have believed it, but Edward Jr. Sutton was no ordinary youth!

He was about to lose his temper, but held back and casually asked, “So, what should I do?”

“Change the burial site. Sell the tomb as soon as possible.” Warren Walker saw the youth was scared and quickly said, “Your family’s tomb has bad feng shui now, but no one else knows.”