Old Butler carried the food box away, but Henry Clark still couldn’t calm down.

“So hateful! So hateful!”

Henry Clark was seething with anger, growing more furious the more he thought about it. He hated those who bullied him, but he also hated himself—if only he had been more capable, he wouldn’t have ended up in this situation.

“Swish!”

Henry Clark’s anger intensified. He suddenly grabbed a brush and began furiously writing on a sheet of rough paper, as if pouring all his rage and frustration into the strokes. Swish, swish, swish—wild, bold characters quickly appeared on the paper:

“‘A true man lives not for five-dish meals, but if he dies, let it be in a five-dish cauldron.’ I, Henry Clark, will not remain obscure forever. One day, I’ll make everyone look at me with new eyes!”

Henry Clark roared in his heart, slamming his fist onto the table. The brush snapped, ink splattering everywhere.

Outside, the cold wind howled, making the rough paper rustle, bearing witness to the vow in Henry Clark’s heart!

……

In another direction, “Rocky” ran a long way along the base of the wall before stopping.

“That brat thinks he’s clever, secretly burning the midnight oil to study, even buying so much rough paper to practice. Does he really think he can fool the madam? He’s digging his own grave.”

“Rocky” spat back in disdain, feeling smug. He would never admit he was afraid of that kid.

“The year’s end is near, and a heavy snow is coming. With only twenty copper coins for over two months of freezing weather, let’s see how you survive!—The eldest young master is coming back soon, and you’re still so unruly, daring to go against the madam of the main branch. This is what you get.”

Muttering curses, he finally walked away.

Chapter Two: A Pressing Crisis

Night had deepened, but Henry Clark lay in bed, unable to sleep.

“I still underestimated them. I can’t believe they couldn’t wait any longer. Twenty copper coins… they’re trying to force Uncle Harris and me to our deaths.”

“With the madam in charge of the clan, there’s no way I’ll get any more allowance, nor will they help me. They might even claim they’ve already given me extra. Without enough money, Uncle Harris and I will either freeze or starve. Every winter in Pingchuan County, many people don’t make it through.”

Thoughts churned endlessly in Henry Clark’s mind.

Uncle Harris was old now, so it was up to him to find a way. To get through this crisis, he had to earn enough money before the year’s end—there was no avoiding it.

For the first time in his life, Henry Clark felt the pressure of survival, a sense of helplessness. There were only a dozen or so days left until the New Year, and after that, a long period of heavy snow.

How could he possibly earn enough in such a short time to last two months? Especially since Henry Clark had no experience at all.

“…Collecting firewood to sell?”

Henry Clark shook his head, quickly dismissing the idea:

“By now, all the dead branches on the mountain have long been picked clean, and families needing firewood have already stocked up for winter. Chopping trees to sell firewood is out of the question. Trading goods?”

Henry Clark shook his head again. “I have no money, no connections, and no capital to trade livestock. Besides, it’s easier said than done—I might not even be able to pull it off.”

“Doing manual labor for others?”

“No way! People will look down on me for being young. And with only a dozen days, I could only get short-term work. Even if I worked myself to death, I couldn’t earn enough for both Uncle Harris and me to survive the winter.”

……

Henry Clark pondered in silence, one idea after another popping into his mind, only to be rejected one by one.

That night, he couldn’t sleep.

“I’ve got it! During the New Year, every household needs couplets. If I offer to write couplets for people, with my calligraphy skills, I might just be able to make some money.”

Staring into the darkness until dawn, Henry Clark’s eyes suddenly lit up—he finally had an idea.

In other areas, Henry Clark admitted he had no real advantage, but when it came to calligraphy, he was confident he was second to none.

“…But for a scholar to sell his writing, it’s a disgrace. I’ve studied for eight years—how can I stoop to this?”

Henry Clark hesitated again, but then he thought of Uncle Harris’s hard work, and his heart ached:

“Uncle Harris has served my family for over twenty years, loyal and devoted. I’m young, so it doesn’t matter for me, but how can I let him go hungry and cold with me?”

Henry Clark’s feelings were mixed. Gritting his teeth, he finally made up his mind.

……

A cold wind swept through the street, a chill coming from the north, growing ever deeper.

Early in the morning, Henry Clark took five copper coins from Old Butler, slung his brush holder and box over his back, and left the Yang residence through the side gate.

The weather was getting colder, and there weren’t many people on the road yet. After passing three intersections, Henry Clark entered a “scholar’s shop” that sold xuan paper.

This shop had been in town for years, decorated in a classic style. The walls and desks were filled with items of all grades—not just xuan paper, but also brushes, ink, inkstones, paintings, and more.

Two or three scholars were inside picking out supplies. Near the entrance, Old Shopkeeper, dressed in a blue robe, stood with his hands clasped, leaning against the counter with a smile:

“Customer, feel free to browse and choose whatever you like. We have items of every grade here—guaranteed to satisfy you.”

Henry Clark nodded, but didn’t reply.