Seeing Emily Brooks's face full of shock and doubt, Mrs. Smith couldn't help but explain a little embarrassedly: "There are empty rooms at home, actually. In the past, Ethan slept in the main room in the backyard, I slept in the east wing, and the west wing was also empty. Now, it's not hard to vacate the main room, but we've never had guests, and there are only two suitable big beds in the house. There are two beds in the front yard... but if we move them over for guests, it would be too disrespectful."

Ethan Bolton glanced at Emily Brooks and saw that the beautiful young lady was clearly dumbfounded. He couldn't help but shake his head and sigh.

You insisted on staying at my house, and now you see how tough life is in the countryside, don't you?

However, he couldn't really treat himself as Mrs. Smith's own son—how could he possibly share a bed with her?

Thinking of this, knowing that it was no longer possible to send Emily Brooks away, he quickly came up with an idea and softened his tone as he said to Mrs. Smith, "Mother, she's just arrived and it's an unfamiliar environment. We don't have any maids at home to attend to her, so she's definitely not used to it. Why don't you take her to sleep in the main room? That way, you can look after each other if anything comes up."

"As for me, I'll just sleep alone in the east wing! Miss, don't be so quick to refuse. The countryside isn't like the city—there's no night watch, and in the middle of the night the wind howls like ghosts wailing, and you never know when a wild boar or wolf might show up."

Hearing this, Emily Brooks almost wanted to back out. But realizing that Ethan Bolton still refused to call her by name, and thinking of how she had so confidently declared she would stay, she felt it would be too humiliating to turn back now. So she braced herself and gave a little snort.

"No need to scare me. Since there aren't enough beds, I'll just sleep with Aunt Smith! My archery is excellent—if there really are any ghosts or monsters, I'll shoot them away with one arrow. No one in this village can beat me!"

Chapter 8: Disdain

That day, because of the addition of Emily Brooks, the pampered young lady, the small The Bolton Family household was thrown into chaos.

Old Clark and Sam hurried to the village cooper to buy all sorts of new wooden basins, buckets, and other items for the young lady to make do with.

Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Clark were busy tidying up the main room that Ethan Bolton had previously occupied alone—after all, there are always some differences when a man moves out and a woman moves in.

As for Ethan Bolton... Emily Brooks soon noticed that he had suddenly disappeared. Although she was a bit annoyed, she could only comfort herself in secret: there's plenty of time in the future. Since she's already decided to stay, isn't there bound to be a chance to get close to Ethan Bolton?

However, to Miss Brooks, everything about the The Bolton Family was both shabby and novel. It wasn't as if she had never stayed outside before, but that was always in one of the family's other residences, with countless maids and servants fawning over her, every utensil and meal carefully selected, and even the so-called rustic charm was just something money could buy to amuse her. How could it compare to now, when everything had to be urgently bought and prepared?

Seeing everyone else busy, and recalling how Ethan Bolton seemed to think she couldn't do anything without a maid, she decided to get familiar with her new environment and rolled up her sleeves to volunteer to help in the main room. However, when she accidentally knocked over a wooden basin and nearly splashed herself with water, Mrs. Smith couldn't bear to watch any longer.

She promptly sent the elegant young lady to the study partitioned off from the east room of the main house.

Immediately, a cup of hot tea was served, inviting the young lady to "have a good rest."

Emily Brooks was extremely grateful that Ethan Bolton wasn't around at that moment. Otherwise, if he had seen her clumsy blunder right after her bold words, she wouldn't have known where to put her face!

At this moment, she took a sip of the bland tea, and her gaze suddenly fell on the row of towering bookshelves against the wall. Her eyes lit up. But after picking up a few books and flipping through them, she found they were all the Four Books and Five Classics, not even a single novel or storybook that young ladies often secretly read. She quickly lost interest.

But just then, she casually pulled out another booklet and, upon opening it, discovered it was a calligraphy practice copybook. Seeing the handwriting—barely neat but weak and lacking any spirit—she couldn't help but frown deeply.

Even though she hadn't practiced calligraphy diligently since childhood, she still wrote better than this!

"Growing up in such a peasant family, how could that person not be mediocre?"

The words Charles Brooks had once said, pointing at the back of Ethan Bolton's head, suddenly echoed in her ears. It was as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over her excitement. She suddenly realized that Ethan Bolton, after all, grew up in the countryside and could never have met a famous teacher.

Annoyed, she tossed aside the copybook, then, as if to cover up, put it back in its place and casually took another one.

But upon opening it, she found the same childish, rigid handwriting. Glancing at the bookshelf, she saw there were more than a dozen similar calligraphy practice books, and her feelings grew even more complicated.

Several generations of emperors had loved calligraphy the most. Even her father, a military man, had a strong, vigorous hand, and her grandmother had forced her to practice until her writing was at least passable. If Ethan Bolton couldn't even write well, how could he ever become an official?

Such a handsome and refined youth, who would outshine countless noble sons in the capital, ought to win top honors in the imperial exams, parade through the streets on horseback, become a general or a prime minister... In short, he should stand at the very top of the court, making all the vulgar people feel ashamed of themselves!

How could he have such terrible handwriting? What a pity! It seems she was right to stay—why didn't her father find him a famous teacher!