These words stirred the heart of the shopkeeper; a businessman never pushes money away. If it were anyone else, he certainly wouldn’t have agreed.

But today, he had seen with his own eyes just how booming Henry Clark’s business was at the market—real silver and copper, more convincing than anything else.

“This kid is still too green. These couplets paired with ink paintings can already be considered calligraphy and painting; the price should definitely be more than a single copper coin. If I really sell them, it’ll be much more than two couplets for a copper.”

The shopkeeper glanced at Henry Clark, calculating in his mind.

He was a businessman—shrewd and experienced in reading people. At a glance, he could tell that Henry Clark, though pretending to be seasoned, was actually an inexperienced fledgling. This kind of public selling was clearly his first time; otherwise, he wouldn’t have set such a price.

“All right! Young man, seeing how straightforward you are, I’ll take your couplets. However, this is a grocery store; I mainly sell flour and grain oil. At most, I can only take about ten couplets—any more would be a bit risky.”

The shopkeeper made his decision.

Two couplets for a copper coin—this price was already very low, and he didn’t have the heart to haggle further.

“Thank you. However, if you could help me by writing an extra receipt, proving that you bought ten couplets from me, I can give you one more couplet for free.”

But Henry Clark was in no hurry, replying calmly.

“Hahaha, good, good! Little brother, if you have anything good in the future, feel free to come to me.”

The shopkeeper came to his senses, secretly admiring him, and spoke more politely.

It would be foolish not to take advantage of a good deal. Although Henry Clark selling calligraphy to other shops might affect him a bit, he could still handle a dozen or so couplets—there was no reason to stop Henry Clark.

He didn’t expect to make a fortune from this kind of thing; earning a bit before the New Year was already good, and it didn’t take much effort anyway.

The two quickly struck a deal. Henry Clark soon finished eleven couplets, paired them with ink paintings, and they looked quite refreshing and novel.

Things went much more smoothly after that. With the receipt written by the shopkeeper, complete with his fingerprint, Henry Clark went from shop to shop, knocking on doors.

With the receipt as his “calling card,” Henry Clark’s couplets sold much faster.

Although each shop could only take a different amount—some more, some less, the most being a dozen or so, the least two or three—when added up, it was no small number.

“Eighty-five copper coins in total. Subtracting the five I started with, I made eighty copper coins today. It’s still a bit short, but it’s enough for Uncle Harris and me to get through the rest of the winter. As for future expenses… I’ll figure something out when the time comes.”

Henry Clark thought to himself, a happy smile appearing on his face. After a whole day of tension, he finally relaxed.

“Making money really isn’t easy. I spent a whole day, wrote until my wrist went numb, and felt like I was about to collapse, yet only made eighty copper coins. Still, though it was hard, it was worth it. —That woman would never believe I could make this much in a single day.”

Henry Clark snorted coldly, feeling especially satisfied.

“It’s getting late. Uncle Harris is still waiting at home. I’d better hurry back and make him happy.”

Henry Clark packed up his brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, slung his brush box over his back, checked his direction, and quickly headed toward the Yang residence.

“This kid… really something! Madam only gave him half a month’s allowance, and he actually thought of selling couplets to make money.”

A figure darted out from a hidden corner of the alley, silently watching Henry Clark’s departing back, muttering to himself:

“No, I have to report this to Madam right away.”

He turned and quickly disappeared.

Chapter Four: A Heart of Compassion

The market had long since dispersed, and there were far fewer people on the road. Alone, Henry Clark was turning a corner with his bundle when he suddenly heard a sharp, piercing shout:

“Bastard, are you crazy for money? You dare sell a worthless rock for a tael of silver? Trying to scam me? Do you even know who I am? —Boys, beat him! Beat him to death!”

Amid the wails and cries, there was a stubborn, simple voice, broken and persistent:

“No… I didn’t lie… Billy never lies. It’s a meteor… This really is a star that fell from the sky… Billy isn’t lying…”

Henry Clark’s heart stirred. In two or three steps, he rounded the corner and immediately saw five or six people gathered ahead, kicking and punching someone on the ground.

Many people stood around watching, but not one stepped in to help.

“Billy Clark?!”

Seeing the person in the middle, Henry Clark was shocked. He knew this person—a mentally disabled man from a neighboring village, with the intelligence of a young child.

His family was poor, with only an elderly mother to rely on—very pitiful.

Henry Clark had seen him a few times, always squatting here selling small things, always well-behaved and never causing trouble. He had no idea why he was being beaten by this group today.

“Stop!”

Without thinking, Henry Clark shouted angrily, striding forward, pushing through the crowd, and standing in front of Billy Clark.