Although, for a moment of satisfaction, he gave all his money to Billy Clark, Henry Clark did not regret it. In that situation, if he had stood by and done nothing, that would have been his deepest regret.

The pain of losing a loved one can only be truly understood by those who have experienced it themselves. Henry Clark just felt he had let down Uncle Harris.

“Not only did I not make any extra money from those twenty copper coins, but I even spent five of them. I sold so many couplets to those shops, but they definitely won’t sell out tomorrow. If I go write more couplets, I probably won’t make much at all. The end of the year hasn’t even come, and we’re down to just fifteen copper coins. What should I do, what should I do?”

Henry Clark was deeply blaming himself.

“Young master, you’re back.”

Old Butler’s voice was kind and caring. He stood at the doorway, not knowing how long he had been waiting.

“Mm.”

Henry Clark lowered his head, feeling his face flush a little.

“You must be tired after a whole day’s work. I’ve warmed some porridge, it’s on the table. Have some to fill your stomach first.”

Old Butler said, not mentioning a word about Henry Clark going out to earn money.

Yet, the more he acted this way, the more guilty Henry Clark felt inside.

“I’m not hungry, Uncle Harris, you eat first. — I’m a bit sleepy, I want to rest for a while.”

Henry Clark lay down on the bed, his mind dazed. He didn’t even take off his clothes, just fell asleep as he was.

As night deepened, Henry Clark lay in bed, half-awake, his mind drifting—sometimes thinking of Old Butler, sometimes of his mother, and sometimes of that woman in the clan whom he deeply hated...

His body grew hotter and hotter, until eventually, he was flushed all over and actually developed a fever!

The room was pitch black, not a sound to be heard. Only the occasional wind whistled in through the cracks in the window. Old Butler simply thought Henry Clark wanted to rest for a while and didn’t come in to disturb him.

In the darkness, no one saw that as Henry Clark lay in bed, his body emitted waves of crimson, strange light. Then, a spot of bright, dazzling light, like a teardrop, flew out from Henry Clark’s chest, slowly rising, bit by bit... It attached itself to the center of Henry Clark’s forehead and slowly seeped in.

...

That night, Henry Clark had a very, very long dream. In the dream, he saw many bizarre scenes, but when he tried to recall them, it was as if he hadn’t seen anything at all.

In the dream, Henry Clark seemed to see the memories of countless people, and also a strong, boundless sense of loneliness, fear, sorrow... and pain!

“Ah!”

Henry Clark cried out in his heart and suddenly sat up in bed. His eyes were wide open, his chest heaving violently, sweat pouring down his face—he was drenched, as if he’d just been pulled out of water.

“So it was just a dream.”

Henry Clark came to his senses and let out a heavy sigh of relief. The room was silent, and he could hear the howling wind outside the window. On such a night, it felt especially eerie.

Henry Clark sat on the bed for a while, suddenly feeling something odd about his body.

“How strange!”

Henry Clark frowned, suddenly reaching out to rub his body. It felt as if something tore, and with a tug—rip!—he pulled off a whole thin layer from his body.

“!!!”

In that instant, Henry Clark was completely awake, a huge sense of horror welling up inside him.

“This... could this be my skin?!”

Henry Clark began to tremble all over. That feeling was definitely not fabric. That thin sensation, clinging tightly to his body, could only be skin.

But Henry Clark didn’t feel any pain at all, as if he had just torn off something unimportant.

“Let’s light a lamp and see.”

Henry Clark lifted the quilt, turned over, propped himself up with his arm, and leapt high, flipping straight off the bed.

“What’s going on? When did I get so strong... And why does my body seem taller too?”

Henry Clark stood dumbfounded by the bed, full of suspicion.

He hadn’t meant to jump off the bed, but with that push, the force was so great that he flipped right over the edge and landed on the floor.

With Henry Clark’s usual strength, that would have been impossible.

“Could it be an illusion?”

Henry Clark was completely puzzled, his mind in a haze, even doubting whether he had really just jumped off the bed.

“Better light the oil lamp first.”

Henry Clark thought to himself.

The fire striker was on the desk, so he had to go to the window to get it.

Henry Clark strode over, and just as he touched the fire striker on the desk, through the howling wind he heard a low, angry voice outside, as if someone was arguing.

“Old man, who do you think you are? It’s your good fortune that I, young master, even look at you. What good can you get from following that ‘Henry Clark’ loser?”

Henry Clark frowned. That fierce voice sounded so familiar, but he couldn’t recall who it was for the moment. At this point, Henry Clark heard another voice:

“You know what happens if you offend the ‘Madam’... Old man, you’re a smart one, you should know! I’m still short of a servant by my side. As long as you follow me and do your job well, you’ll have good food and drink, and you won’t be left out in the future. So, think it over. But make up your mind— I don’t like being refused, you know?”