The Sullivan Family, though not an old aristocratic family, had only risen to prominence in the past decade or two. Yet among their household staff, few had picked up the habits of shirking and deception common in the servants of great houses. After receiving this letter, the chief steward Quentin Lane, upon learning it was delivered by Brian Clark, immediately furrowed his brows. After sending off Ruyi, he did not open the letter lightly. Fortunately, Master Glen Sullivan of the The Sullivan Family returned home not long after, and Quentin Lane personally delivered it to him.

In the study, seeing Glen Sullivan holding the letter in contemplation and silence, he spoke softly, “Master, since you already have an idea in mind, whether he’s apologizing and pleading or just rambling nonsense, why not take a look?”

“Mm, you’re right.”

Glen Sullivan nodded and used a paper knife to cut open the seal. Seeing there was only a thin sheet of paper inside, he pinched the corner and unfolded it. With just one glance, he suddenly stood up, his face full of incredulous astonishment. After a long moment, he realized his loss of composure and slowly sat back down, but his right hand unconsciously gripped the armrest of the grand chair tightly.

“Master?”

“You’re not an outsider—take a look as well.”

Quentin Lane took the letter in surprise, skimmed through it quickly, and his face showed the exact same expression as Glen Sullivan. Soon after, he returned the letter with both hands, his expression now relaxed. “Master, this Clark's Son has taken the initiative to propose breaking off the engagement. Though unexpected, doesn’t this also spare you from being accused of breaking your word? You know, according to the law, if the woman breaks off the engagement and he reports it to the authorities, whether it’s us or… it would be quite a hassle.”

“That’s true, but we still don’t know if Second Master Clark is alive or dead. If he suddenly comes back…”

Glen Sullivan shook his head, stood up, and paced back and forth in the room. Seeing this, Quentin Lane couldn’t help but ponder as well. Suddenly, he remembered that he had previously questioned the two gatekeepers who received the letter, and quickly spoke up, “Master, I just remembered—earlier, Yan Da mentioned that after delivering the letter, that Clark's Son said he was going to the Yingtian Prefecture office for some business.”

Hearing this, Glen Sullivan furrowed his brows even more. “What is that wastrel suddenly going to the Yingtian Prefecture office for… Hmph, probably to seek connections with Old Sixth Clark. Hah, never worships until he’s in trouble. With Old Sixth Clark’s temperament, he’ll most likely hit a wall. Never mind, since such a good thing has come to us, you might as well go to his house yourself and sound him out… If he’s truly willing, considering he’s Second Master Clark’s son and already troubled, give him some extra compensation. After all, I do owe him!”

Outside the window, as a voice of assent came from inside, a shadow quietly crouched down and slipped away silently along the base of the wall.

Chapter 10: Playing to Their Preferences (Part 1)

In his previous life, Brian Clark had ridden trains, cars, motorcycles, and bicycles, but never a horse-drawn carriage. After less than an hour of bumping along in a carriage today, he already felt dizzy. Now, as he got off again and stood on Fudong Street, he rubbed his temples to steady himself, then looked up and carefully observed the bustling Fudong Street outside the east gate of Yingtian Prefecture, as well as the many buildings faintly visible behind the high walls nearby.

As the saying goes, “Since ancient times, the yamen’s doors open wide, but don’t enter if you have no money or reason.” The main gate of the yamen always faces south, so the east gate leads directly to the rear offices. At this moment, Brian Clark listened to Sixth King’s explanations while glancing around, his mind quickly reviewing his plans. After all, this Nanjing was not the Nanjing of later times—the Yingtian Prefecture office was far more important than the modern Nanjing city government.

Since the yamen was just across the wall, there were many carriages and horses parked along the base of the wall on the other side of Fudong Street. Dozens of brightly dressed coachmen, sedan-chair bearers, and attendants were chatting idly. As for the east gate under the high wall, four gatekeepers stood there, appearing casual and bored, but their eyes were sharp—clearly well-trained.

Beside him, Sixth King spoke while quietly observing. Seeing Brian Clark glance around after listening, then stride toward the east gate as if no one else were present, he couldn’t help but break out in a cold sweat. The front gate of the yamen was for proper officials, the back gate for their families, and only the east gate was for all sorts of miscellaneous people. Even so, ordinary commoners, seeing such imposing high walls and the yamen’s majesty, would inevitably feel intimidated. Even someone like him, once familiar with such places, now felt rather uneasy.

“Excuse me, may I ask if Steward Big Brother Brooks of the Records Office under Sixth Master Clark is here?”

As Brian Clark spoke, he wore a gentle smile. More importantly, his hand, hidden in his sleeve, discreetly slipped something into the hand of an old gatekeeper. The old man, a seasoned veteran, weighed and squeezed the item, immediately recognizing its value. His previously indifferent expression softened a bit.

If someone wanted to see one of the top-ranking bigwigs in the yamen, or even their trusted aides, he wouldn’t dare act rashly. But if it was just the steward of the Records Office, and that office’s newly promoted Travis Clark, as long as the tip was generous, running this errand was no problem.

“You’re looking for Steward Brooks?”

“I’m Sixth Master Clark’s clan nephew, here to discuss something with Brother Brooks.”