“Tonight we’ll set up a few tables at Wangjiang Tower to celebrate Mr. Turner, and to celebrate this young man as well!”

“This young man...

Could he be young friend Emily Thompson from Second Alley, Caiyuanzi Street?”

The crowd all gathered around Mr. Turner and Emily Thompson.

In an instant, the two of them were surrounded so tightly that not even water could get through.

Instead, the area around Andrew Warren suddenly emptied out.

All his colleagues and companions had gone to congratulate Emily Thompson.

Andrew Warren didn’t mind, frowning as he pondered something else.

When the precious mirror suddenly burst forth with red light just now, why did he feel a sense of familiarity?

It was as if the red light had actually erupted from within himself, only to pour into the precious mirror and lie dormant, until it shone upon Emily Thompson and then suddenly exploded.

Could it be that the strongest body reacted on its own?

“Andrew Warren, we’re not going to Changfu Tavern for lunch today!”

“Emily Thompson is waiting for us at Wangjiang Tower!”

A figure squeezed out from the crowd, said a couple of words to the pensive Andrew Warren, and then hurriedly squeezed back into the throng.

Andrew Warren looked up, not even seeing who had spoken.

Not going to Changfu Tavern for a meal?

Perfect, that saves two taels of silver!

He felt relieved at heart, and just as he was about to leave, Mr. Clark, who had been silently standing by, suddenly reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

“Andrew Warren, go home and practice your boxing well.

Although you don’t have the fortune for cultivation, at least you have a talent for martial arts.

Your childhood friend...

From now on, try to have less contact.

You probably won’t be able to anyway...” His tone was full of endless bitterness and melancholy.

Chapter 11: Sanyuan Nourishing Soup

“Salted fish and cured meat~” “Tofu, pork intestine and tripe soup coming~” “Pancakes, flower cakes, big steamed buns~”...

Caiyuanzi Street was filled with the cries of peddlers and porters.

The scents of all kinds of snacks and street food mingled in the air, hard to describe, but still enough to whet the appetite.

Andrew Warren wore a smile on his face, holding a thin string in his hand.

Strung on the string were seven or eight oil-paper packages of various sizes, each containing different foods he’d bought along the way.

Roast goose, pig’s head meat, meat pies, jujube flower cakes, and so on.

All together, the seven or eight items cost forty coins.

In the Shang Kingdom, gold, silver, and copper coins were used as currency; one hundred coins equaled one tael of silver.

These foods were enough for Andrew Warren and Mr. Grant to eat for a day or two, much more economical than spending two taels of silver for a table at Changfu Tavern.

It was only because he’d won a reward of fifty taels of silver today that Andrew Warren dared to splurge for once.

The original owner and Mr. Grant had always scraped by doing odd jobs, barely making ends meet, living in straitened circumstances.

This was the first time since Andrew Warren had crossed into this world that he’d bought food like this to eat.

He walked home with a spring in his step, calling out as soon as he entered, “Mr. Grant!

No need to cook lunch today, I bought lots of food back.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Mr. Grant emerged from the utility room, wearing a tattered cloth apron, his gray hair still tangled with cobwebs and dust.

When he saw the string of oil-paper packages in Andrew Warren’s hand, his expression changed, but then joy lit up his face: “Young master, did you do well in the appointment exam today?”

Just by looking at the young master’s expression, Mr. Grant could guess that he must have done well in the test.

But he was still a little anxious inside, only relaxing when he saw Andrew Warren nod in person.

“Yes, I got third place.

The yamen awarded me fifty taels of silver. I spent some, and there’s still this much left.”

Andrew Warren nodded with a smile, handing a packet of silver to Mr. Grant with his left hand. “Mr. Grant, weigh it, there should be a bit more than forty-nine taels left.”

Mr. Grant was overjoyed, grinning as he took the silver, saying, “Young master, you’ve really made something of yourself, you have!”

As he spoke, he placed the bundle on the wobbly wooden table in front of the kitchen. When he opened it, he saw silver ingots, each about a finger long, gleaming white, so bright that tears streamed down his face: “So much silver, I only saw this much once when I was young.

That time, the old master traded a mountain bandit leader’s head for it.

Fifty or sixty years... I thought I’d never see such good times again in this life.

Luckily, we have you, young master, you’ve made us proud!

If the old master and the master knew in the afterlife, they’d surely be happy for you too...” Andrew Warren went over and put the food on the table as well, comforting Mr. Grant.

Great joy and great sorrow are hardest on the body, and the elderly must be especially careful.

“This is a good thing, Mr. Grant, why are you crying?

From now on, it’s your time to enjoy life. If you keep crying like this, be careful you don’t lose your good fortune.”

After teasing Mr. Grant a bit, the old man stopped crying.

He wiped his tears, wrapped the silver ingots back up, but didn’t put them away—instead, he pushed them back to Andrew Warren: “Young master, you earned this silver, you should keep it.

We still have some money at home, enough for daily expenses.

I’ve seen the old master practice martial arts, and I know the saying: ‘the poor study literature, the rich practice martial arts.’

You should use this money to buy some medicinal herbs, boxing manuals, and the like, to improve your own cultivation. With greater strength, you’ll have more confidence if you ever face danger!”