Ethan Bolton, I didn’t even complain about your terrible handwriting, and yet you dare to complain about me!

Chapter 9: The Young Teacher

　　Though Emily Brooks was in a foul mood, she still finished her dinner. The reason was different from lunchtime, when she ate simply because she was hungry—this time, after just one bite, she found the rustic country dishes to be quite delicious. Of course, with Ethan Bolton’s superb cooking skills, there was no way she’d let any go to waste!

　　And when it came time to wash her face and feet before bed, Miss Brooks was too embarrassed to let Mrs. Smith help her again. Even though she was extra careful, she still managed to get most of her front soaked. Fortunately, she was supposed to change clothes for the night anyway, so she had to put on a set of underclothes and underpants that Mrs. Smith had hastily found for her—clothes that had never been worn before. Though they were much too short and the fabric was coarse, she had no choice but to make do.

　　That night, she, who would always pick her bed when traveling, actually had a wonderful dream!

　　In her dream, Ethan Bolton was no longer distant and aloof, but smiled at her with gentle elegance. In the end, she almost woke up laughing!

　　When she opened her eyes again, she even heard herself laughing. Once she finally came to her senses, she immediately coughed and habitually called out for Zhanjin. When there was no response, she opened her eyes and looked around in confusion, only realizing after a while that she wasn’t at home, and that Mrs. Smith, who had been sleeping outside, was already gone.

　　Emily Brooks hurriedly sat up and saw a clothes rack by the bed, with a set of men’s clothes hanging on it. Her eyes lit up, and she quickly got out of bed, slipped on her shoes, and went over to try them on.

　　Luckily, Ethan Bolton’s outfit was simple enough. Once she had put it on, she looked at the plain yet elegant young gentleman in the bronze mirror. Just then, she heard Mrs. Smith knocking at the door from outside—she had heard movement and come to bring hot water and breakfast.

　　After washing up with Mrs. Smith’s help, she glanced at the simple yet clean porridge and side dishes, as well as two small, delicate white steamed buns. Seeing the bright daylight outside, Emily Brooks couldn’t wait to eat and asked, “Aunt Smith, what time is it?”

　　“It’s almost the beginning of the hour of Chen (nine o’clock),” Mrs. Smith replied. Seeing the young lady gasp, and having gotten to know her a bit after a day and night together, she smiled and said, “This is the countryside, not the Duke of Zhao’s mansion. Sleeping in a bit later doesn’t matter. Ethan went out early and specifically told me to let you sleep a little longer.”

　　Emily Brooks didn’t pay attention to anything else—she only heard two words: went out!

　　Thinking of how Ethan Bolton had “complained” about her both in the kitchen and at dinner yesterday, and now had left her behind, she felt even more aggrieved. She, Miss Brooks, only had to beckon and countless noble sons in the capital would flock to her, yet he actually ran away! She hadn’t even done anything to him yet!

　　With a huff of annoyance, she forced a smile and said, “I really shouldn’t have gotten up so late… By the way, where did Ethan go?”

　　After so many years, Mrs. Smith had long since lost hope for this marriage, especially after being humiliated by Charles Brooks yesterday. But after Emily Brooks had taken Ethan Bolton away for so long and then returned, suddenly changing her attitude and deciding to stay, and now clearly showing great curiosity about Ethan Bolton, Mrs. Smith felt both happy and inexplicably proud.

　　So what if he grew up in the countryside? That can’t hide the brilliance of our Ethan!

　　She immediately said with a smile, “Ethan can’t sit idle at home. Right now, he’s probably teaching the village boys.”

　　Emily Brooks couldn’t help but be surprised. She suppressed her urge to ask more questions, nodded, quickly finished her belated breakfast, and then asked Mrs. Smith where Ethan Bolton was teaching. In the end, since she didn’t know the way, she had to bring along Bolton Family Servant Sam.

　　The Bolton Mansion was at the entrance of the village. Yesterday, Emily Brooks had only come this far and already found it plain to the point of being shabby. Today, as she ventured deeper into the village, she finally got to truly experience what the idyllic rural life, so beautifully depicted in poetry and song, was really like in reality.

　　The houses she saw along the way were of various ages, most of them old and in disrepair, with broken roof tiles, and some were even drafty on all sides—just simple shacks made of bamboo fences and thatch, giving off a foul stench.

　　Of course, she had no idea that those shacks at the end were pigsties.

　　On the way, she managed to get a few words out of Sam. It turned out that the village where the The Bolton Family lived, because the The Bolton Family had always collected very little rent and never exploited the villagers, was actually considered one of the “wealthier villages” in the capital region where people could generally get enough to eat.

　　Now was the rice harvest season, so there were few able-bodied men and women in the village—most of the farmers had gone to work in the fields, and even the older children were no exception. Those without their own rice paddies would help others harvest, and when it was time to harvest their own wheat or cotton fields, those they had helped would return the favor. This was one of the systems Ethan Bolton had advocated over the past three years.

　　Of course, Emily Brooks didn’t know this. She just noticed that most of the people she saw along the way were three- or four-year-old children running around everywhere.

　　Thinking back to Ethan Bolton’s words yesterday—“Who knows how much hard work goes into every grain of food on the plate”—Emily Brooks couldn’t help but gain a deeper understanding of that line of poetry.

　　Just then, a few children ran past her, laughing and playing, and along with their laughter, she actually heard a few scattered lines of poetry drifting by on the wind.

　　“Leaving Baidi in the morning amidst colorful clouds, a thousand miles to Jiangling in a single day…”

　　“Two orioles sing amid the green willows, a line of egrets soars into the blue sky…”