After all, he was a genuine xiucai, and his slender, elegant calligraphy in the Slender Gold Script was truly refined. Whether one could read or not, it was obvious that his handwriting was far more beautiful than those scribes who just made a living at it—this was a kind of misaligned advantage. Moreover, he wasn’t greedy for money: he would write for a hundred wen, or even for ten; if someone really had no money, a bit of grain or cured meat would do. People were all willing to support his business.

Except for the very first day of opening, from the next day on, his daily income exceeded a hundred wen, and in just a few days, he had taken away all the business in the surrounding area.

The feeling of sudden wealth after poverty made Brian Sullivan a bit dizzy with excitement; he actually did buy a big fat chicken every day, bringing it home to help Adam Sullivan recover.

While eating the fragrant chicken soup, Adam Sullivan couldn’t feel happy. He asked worriedly, “How are Father’s fellow tradesmen doing?”

“How would I know?” Brian Sullivan grabbed a chicken wing and tore at it rather ungracefully, mumbling, “But these days, more and more people are coming to me for writing. They’d rather wait for me to finish the next day than go to anyone else.” He couldn’t hide his pride as he said, “Chaosheng, you should have seen the looks on those colleagues’ faces—tsk tsk… I bet they’re so mad they could eat me alive.”

Adam Sullivan’s brow furrowed even tighter, and he said softly, “One must always show some restraint. Father, you’ve just arrived, and you’ve already taken away their livelihood. If you’re not careful, you might make enemies.”

“Nonsense.” Brian Sullivan reached out his greasy right hand, picked up a wine cup, and downed a cup of yellow wine with a slurp, saying, “Your father hasn’t stolen or robbed anyone. I make a living with my own skills—what’s there to be careful about? If no one goes to them, it’s because their skills aren’t good enough. They should go home and practice their calligraphy—that’s the right thing to do. How can they blame me?”

“Father is an upright gentleman,” Adam Sullivan shook his head slowly, “but in this world, the hardest and most important people to guard against are the petty and malicious.”

“Guard against them? What a joke.” Brian Sullivan drank another cup and said, “Are you still hoping they’ll help us with something?”

“Of course not,” Adam Sullivan said softly. “It’s just to guard against them causing trouble.”

Brian Sullivan was in high spirits and couldn’t listen to Adam Sullivan’s unpleasant but loyal advice. He waved his hand to end the conversation: “Don’t worry about these things. Your father is in his thirties or forties—does he need a thirteen- or fourteen-year-old child to teach him?” Adam Sullivan had no choice but to fall silent.

※※※

In the days that followed, Adam Sullivan stayed home to recover, while Brian Sullivan brought home chicken, duck, fish, and meat every day. Miss Yin’s personal maid, Grace, also came by from time to time, bringing nourishing medicines. Each time, she would chat and joke with him for a while before leaving, and before she left, she would always ask Adam Sullivan to repeat the jokes and riddles he’d told before, saying she wanted to show off when she got back.

The woman downstairs was quiet for a while as well. With good food and drink and no disturbances, Adam Sullivan recovered quickly. In just six or seven days, he could walk around with the help of the wall, and it looked like in another ten days or half a month, he’d be bouncing around again.

Once he could walk, the first thing Adam Sullivan did was go to the doorway to take a look at the courtyard he’d been living in for seven or eight days, to see what it was really like.

He lived in the northernmost attic, which was also the highest point of the whole compound. Leaning against the doorway and looking out, he could see the entire courtyard at a glance. The residence faced south, occupying a vast area. Counting the black-tiled roofs, there were actually five courtyards in depth.

From a distance, there were two huge flags, each five zhang tall, standing at the main entrance. Between the flags was the central axis of the whole compound. The buildings inside were completely symmetrical from south to north, with the main hall on the central axis, side rooms and wing rooms on the left, and matching ones on the right, all connected and facing each other.

The layout looked no different from the siheyuan he was familiar with, only more compact, with much smaller open spaces and sky wells. Although the architecture was exquisite and detailed, it felt a bit cramped, not as spacious and comfortable as those in the north. Adam Sullivan thought it was probably because there were more people and less land in Jiangnan, so space had to be saved.

Although it couldn’t compare to northern siheyuan in terms of open space, it surpassed them in height. He saw that, except for the main hall and side rooms in the second courtyard, all the buildings behind were two or three stories tall. Each courtyard had four symmetrical rooms on the left and right: the main room in front, wing rooms to the east and west, a rear hall to the south, all facing each other in a square, with a central courtyard and sky well, forming small siheyuan within the larger one.

From the third courtyard to the fifth, where Adam Sullivan was, winding corridors divided the space into six seemingly independent but interconnected courtyards. The houses were arranged in a staggered yet orderly fashion, courtyards connected, doors facing each other, corridors linking everything together in all directions. There were also rockeries and flowing water, red flowers and green willows set off against white walls and black tiles, making one feel refreshed and as if the summer heat was much easier to bear.

Just as he was immersed in the beauty, Adam Sullivan suddenly heard a familiar scolding from downstairs: “You little brat, didn’t you have consumption? Why aren’t you dead yet?”

Adam Sullivan looked down and, sure enough, the fat woman was back in action. She was as plump as ever, wearing tight clothes, holding half a watermelon, with a few black seeds stuck to her face, craning her neck and glaring up at him.

Adam Sullivan rolled his eyes and looked down from above, saying, “Old shrew, I said ‘I’m not sick.’ Who told you and your man not to listen properly?”

“What? Getting cocky now, are you?” The fat woman hadn’t expected him to be so sharp-tongued, and immediately her fighting spirit rose: “You little brat, always hanging around with that little girl, getting more and more shameless!”