Adam Sullivan was left both amused and exasperated by this sudden enthusiasm. Waving his hand, he subtly prevented the two from touching him and said with a wry smile, “Good thing these stairs are short, or I might have gotten hurt.” As he spoke, he looked the two over and said, “Honestly, you two first scare me down the stairs, then treat me like a hero—what kind of act is this? Are you just making fun of me?”

“Benefactor, you wrong us.” Miss Grace cried out in protest.

Chapter Thirteen: The City God Temple (Part One)

After checking himself over and finding, thankfully, that he wasn’t hurt, Adam Sullivan’s anger faded. Rubbing his neck, he said, “You really weren’t trying to set me up?”

“Even if we were heartless, we’d never scheme against our benefactor.” Miss Grace scrunched up her features, tugged her husband’s ear, and made him kneel, saying, “You said you’d go clean benefactor’s house, so how did you end up scaring him instead?”

“There was no one at benefactor’s home, so I didn’t dare go in.” The man looked at Adam Sullivan apologetically and said, “I just squatted at the door waiting for you to come back. When you did, I stood up, and then you just ‘whoosh’—flew right out…”

Thinking about it, Adam Sullivan realized he had indeed been a bit reckless. Clicking his tongue, he said, “Forget it, forget it, just my bad luck. And… stop calling me benefactor. I haven’t done anything that great, it’s embarrassing to hear.”

“How could you say you haven’t done a good deed?” Miss Grace said, face full of shame. “If you’d told the truth to the magistrate, we wouldn’t have been able to stay here—we’d be homeless, wandering the streets.”

“Oh.” Adam Sullivan smiled slightly and said, “I wasn’t entirely right in that matter either. Let’s call it even and not bring it up again. How about we get along peacefully from now on?”

“That’s wonderful, benefac—oh, no, young master, you really are a good person.” Miss Grace and her husband nodded and bowed in thanks. They invited Adam Sullivan to stay for a meal, but Adam Sullivan declined, saying his father hadn’t returned yet.

“All right, it’s getting late, you two should rest.” Adam Sullivan walked to the door, smiling, “I’m heading upstairs.” Miss Grace thanked him profusely again, and she and her husband saw Adam Sullivan up the stairs.

“See you later.” Being able to turn hostility into friendship, Adam Sullivan was quite pleased and showed the two a friendlier face.

※※※

Adam Sullivan returned to his room, following the faint red glow to find the fire striker—a tightly rolled piece of coarse paper. In the darkness, he could see a red ember glowing at the tip, but no flame, like a coal smoldering in ashes.

After lighting it and blowing it out, it could stay smoldering for a long time. When you needed a flame, just a puff would reignite it—much more convenient than flint and steel. But getting it to light with a puff took skill: sudden, short, forceful, and steady. It had taken Adam Sullivan seven or eight days to manage it successfully even once.

Lighting the oil lamp on the table, the room gradually brightened. Adam Sullivan was surprised to find someone lying on the bed. Looking closer, he realized it was his father.

He saw Brian Sullivan curled up, lying on his side, apparently asleep.

Adam Sullivan’s sharp eyes immediately noticed he hadn’t even taken off his shoes before getting into bed, and frowned slightly, wondering what was going on.

He gently picked up the lamp and tiptoed to the bedside, lowering his head to look at Brian Sullivan’s face, only to find him staring wide-eyed at the windowsill.

“What’s wrong?” Adam Sullivan finally asked.

Brian Sullivan didn’t answer. Instead, he closed his eyes and curled up even tighter.

Adam Sullivan asked twice more, but seeing no response, he had no choice but to return to the table, lie down on the bench, and say, “Fine, keep it to yourself then.” He closed his eyes. He didn’t really intend to sleep, just to rest for a bit. But after all the day’s commotion, he was already exhausted, and soon drifted off.

※※※

He slept until dawn. When Adam Sullivan woke up, he found the bed empty—his father had already left.

Stretching his stiff back, Adam Sullivan felt a trace of unease, so he splashed some water on his face and got ready to go out and look around.

As soon as he opened the door, he saw Miss Grace coming up the stairs with a steaming bowl of noodle soup. When she saw Adam Sullivan, she beamed and said, “Young master, you haven’t eaten yet, have you? Here’s some noodle soup with poached eggs.”

Looking at the bowl of noodles with shredded meat and cilantro, Adam Sullivan knew this was a sincere offering from Miss Grace’s family.

Adam Sullivan tried to refuse twice, but Miss Grace was determined. She straightened up and blocked the stairs completely, making it clear he wasn’t going down until he ate.

Refusing again would be rude, so Adam Sullivan chuckled and said, “Then I’ll gladly accept.”

Miss Grace nodded repeatedly, “Young master, eat while it’s hot.”

Adam Sullivan took the big bowl and, instead of going back to his room, sat on the stairs and wolfed down the noodles. As he ate, he was nearly moved to tears.

Seeing his strange expression, Miss Grace asked nervously, “Does it not suit your taste?”

Adam Sullivan took a deep breath, shook his head, and smiled, “No, it’s just too delicious.”

“Young master, you’re too kind.” Miss Grace was overjoyed. “It’s nothing compared to what you’d get at a restaurant—I just made it up as I went.”

Adam Sullivan shook his head again, “It really is delicious.”