During the process of entering the residence, William Bolton was surprised to discover his own remarkable powers of observation. The courtyard walls of The Bolton Family—which parts were high, which were low, which spots were suitable for climbing, and which places were close to deserted alleys—he could take it all in at a single glance and understand it completely.

It was said that those battle-hardened generals, no matter where they went, could instantly grasp the terrain and skillfully arrange their troops. He hadn’t expected that he, too, possessed such a talent: wherever he went, he could always find the best spots for scaling the walls. With a gift like this, it was truly a pity not to become a thief.

After just a few days, Henry Bolton's condition had clearly worsened, far beyond what William Bolton had expected.

This time, Henry Bolton was still groaning softly, but now he was weak and feeble.

“Third brother, third brother…”

“B...big brother…”

Hearing the familiar voice, Henry Bolton lifted his head slightly and managed to force a faint smile.

Seeing him like this, William Bolton grew anxious, furrowing his brow and asking, “What’s wrong, what’s wrong?”

Henry Bolton stammered, “My head hurts terribly, I can’t feel the wound anymore. They say the illness is very serious. Big brother, am I going to die? I don’t want to die.”

William Bolton touched his forehead—it was burning with fever.

He lifted the bedding, only to find Henry Bolton lying on the bed with his rear raised, and the wound was a ghastly sight—clearly festering.

If it were an ordinary wound, it might not be so bad, but this one was large, making it all the more shocking.

It was obvious this was caused by infection and inflammation, which had also brought on a high fever.

William Bolton asked, “Did you use my medicine?”

“No, the imperial physician prescribed a remedy.”

William Bolton raised his eyebrows and said, “You should use my medicine.”

Henry Bolton glanced up at William Bolton.

William Bolton said, “You still don’t trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, big brother… I mean your character.”

Looking at the half-dead Henry Bolton, William Bolton gritted his teeth and said, “My medical skills are better than my character.”

Although Henry Bolton was young, he wasn’t so foolish as to not understand: “It’s enough that big brother cares. My head is so dizzy, I feel terrible. Big brother… I’m going to die. I didn’t sleep at all last night… I overheard the imperial physicians whispering, saying the situation is very bad. I… I feel awful.”

Seeing how downcast he was, William Bolton didn’t push him to use the medicine, but instead tried to cheer him up: “Did you know, second brother Edward Grant went home and got a beating from his father.”

Hearing this, Henry Bolton seemed interested, regaining a bit of energy, and widened his eyes: “Really?”

“I’m not lying, the whole The Grant Family saw it.”

“Didn’t expect second brother to be so miserable too.”

“Yeah, the three of us brothers are really unlucky.”

“But big brother…”

“I’m miserable too. Even though you two are the ones getting beaten, it hurts my heart.” said William Bolton.

At this moment, Henry Bolton looked utterly exhausted. His face was pale, and he mumbled, “Big brother, I really have a hard life. I lost my father, and now it seems I won’t survive either. My older brother scolds me every day, says I hang around with you and idle about, and that’s why this happened. I know sometimes you get me to do foolish things, but… somehow, being with you always feels free and easy. I’m unhappy in the residence, but seeing you makes me happy.”

He spoke haltingly, his words growing slower and slower.

William Bolton couldn’t help but sniffle and said, “Rest now, I’ll put the medicine on for you.”

With that, he searched for the medicine bottle he’d sent last time, found it, poured out the liquid, and carefully dabbed it onto Henry Bolton’s wound.

The posture and action were certainly undignified, but that couldn’t be helped at the moment.

After applying the medicine, William Bolton said, “You rest well. I’ll climb over the wall to leave.”

“Climb… climb the wall…”

“Yeah, just practicing. I’ll need it next time I come to see you.”

Henry Bolton was already groggy, his eyelids heavy, so he didn’t try to stop him.

Chapter Twelve: Turning Danger into Safety

But neither of the two youths in the side room knew that, while the medicine was being applied, someone poked a hole in the window paper with a finger, and an eye silently observed from outside.

A moment later, the owner of the eye withdrew—this was the Imperial Physician in charge of treatment.

As soon as William Bolton left, Imperial Physician hurried into the room. After roughly understanding the situation, he seemed to have a plan.

By evening, Imperial Physician was summoned to the palace again.

George Washington looked weary, but forced himself to stay alert: “How is the illness?”

“Your Majesty…” The imperial physician paused, then said, “I… am truly ashamed. Though I have prescribed several strong medicines, I can only watch as Young Master Bolton’s illness worsens… However… however…”

George Washington frowned at him. “However what?”

“The medicine we prescribed—if we want it to cure the illness, it’s not impossible. But now… it’s too late.”

“And why is that?” George Washington’s expression grew darker.

“It’s just that Young Master Bolton trusted the wrong person. Today… he actually listened to a young man and recklessly used medicine.”

“A young man… administered medicine…” George Washington’s face changed abruptly. “Matthew Green?”