William Bolton said again, “It’s rare that we’re all men of honor. Since we get along so well and are all loyal and righteous, why don’t we burn yellow paper and become sworn brothers?”

Henry Bolton hobbled along; that last sentence had been his final act of stubbornness. In truth, he was now in so much pain he couldn’t speak.

But Edward Grant was full of excitement. “Great, great, let’s swear brotherhood like in the Peach Garden!”

Charles Howard didn’t attend class every day, after all, he was the Director of the Imperial Academy, and by regulation, he only taught once every five days.

Five days later, William Bolton came rushing to the school, and to his surprise, Henry Bolton and Edward Grant had already arrived. Edward Grant shouted, “Brotherhood, brotherhood!”

Even Henry Bolton said, “Master Howard is about to start class, we need to hurry!”

William Bolton grinned, “I brought yellow paper.”

As he spoke, he pulled out a stack of yellow paper from his sleeve.

“Did any of you bring a chicken?”

“Chicken?” Edward Grant and Henry Bolton looked at each other. “Why do we need to eat chicken?”

William Bolton sighed, “Not to eat, but to kill. We’re becoming sworn brothers for real, so it has to be proper. We kill a chicken and drink its blood—that’s a bond for life and death.”

Young people care most about ceremony, though this kind of ceremony could also be called a bit childish.

After hearing this, Edward Grant nodded like a pecking chick. “William knows everything, but where do we find a chicken?”

William Bolton coughed, “I just heard a chicken crowing.”

Henry Bolton’s eyes lit up. “Ah, that’s Master Howard’s chicken.”

Charles Howard was a man of integrity, after all, a scholar-official. Thanks to the founding emperor Zhu Yuanzhang, officials’ salaries were extremely low, and life in Nanjing was rather tight, so he raised seven speckled chickens in his own backyard.

William Bolton sighed, “It’s urgent—what should we do?”

“Too bad I’m still injured, otherwise…” Henry Bolton grew anxious.

Both of them looked at Edward Grant.

Edward Grant stared wide-eyed, “You’re not asking me to steal a chicken, are you?!”

……

Cluck, cluck, cluck…

With a thud, a single stroke fell.

Right at the corner of the school’s front yard, in a pile of weeds, the speckled chicken’s neck twisted, and blood spurted out.

Edward Grant held the knife, grimacing, then put it away, muttering, “This must be a hen, so noisy.”

The three of them burned yellow paper, drank chicken blood, and then, of course, performed the usual ceremony—swearing to be born in the same year, same month, same day.

William Bolton was the oldest and became the eldest brother.

Edward Grant was next, naturally the second.

Henry Bolton was the youngest, so he became the youngest brother.

When they heard the clapper sound, the three of them hurried off to Minglun Hall.

Charles Howard was in an unusually good mood.

He had transcended.

After all, time always fades unpleasant memories.

Just as the Book of Documents says: “With tolerance, virtue becomes great.”

He, as before, couldn’t help but show a reserved and courteous smile while teaching, as if the previous unpleasantness had never happened.

After finishing the class, he didn’t care whether the boys had listened attentively—one shouldn’t look too closely at things. What if you found something?

So after class, the very first to grab his bucket and slip away was Charles Howard.

Having muddled through another class, he couldn’t help but feel cheerful.

He returned to the inner residence, about to go back to his study.

At that moment, he heard a voice: “Come, quickly, come here.”

It was his wife, Madam Zhou.

Charles Howard frowned; he didn’t like how his wife made a fuss every day.

But his legs still, against his will, carried him toward her.

“Master, you… you… come and count…”

Charles Howard’s gaze fell on the chicken coop. Calmly, he counted, “One, two… five, six, seven…”

He had barely said “seven” when the word shrank back into his throat.

Charles Howard’s breathing grew rapid. This time, he stretched out his fingers, afraid he’d missed one, and kept counting, “One… two… six… Where’s the chicken, where’s the chicken? How is one missing?”

Madam Zhou said, “Could it have wandered off?”

“Nonsense, they never wander off in the yard…”

As Charles Howard said this, he couldn’t help but shudder, his face turning sallow. In a flash, he seemed to realize something.

“That’s it, that’s it, it must be those brats!”

“Brats? Master, do you mean those children? But they’re just kids… and your own students…”

Charles Howard nearly jumped up. “Precisely because they’re my students, I have a bad feeling! I’m their teacher—don’t I know what kind of people I’ve taught?”

Charles Howard was heartbroken.

It wasn’t about the chicken… No, it was about the chicken. He’d raised it so big—it was worth quite a bit, almost as much as a few days’ salary for Charles Howard.

Only then did Madam Zhou recall something. “Now that you mention it, I remember this morning, there was a rather big fellow sneaking around the backyard…”

“Was he dark-faced, with a mole on his forehead?”

“That’s right!”

Charles Howard beat his chest and stomped his feet, wailing, “Edward Grant… you unfilial child!”

Chapter Four: Heard by the Emperor

The Inner Palace, Wenhua Hall.

A eunuch shuffled into the hall, holding a memorial, and presented it to the imperial desk.