This young lady, known as the Second Miss, simply wouldn’t listen to advice. She actually hid a staff, a full ten feet long, up her sleeve, and emerged from the sedan chair with an innocent look on her face, skipping over to the calligraphy stall. The two burly sedan bearers immediately followed closely behind her. Then, another maid climbed out of the sedan, looking about thirteen or fourteen, with rather delicate features. She couldn’t help but click her tongue and mutter under her breath, “It’s over, we’re going to get beaten again when we get back.”

“Hey... dummy...” The Second Miss walked up to the stall and called out to Charles Clark without the slightest courtesy.

Charles Clark looked up, his eyes going a bit blank. Since coming to this era, women walking on two legs were a common sight on the street, but a girl this elegant and otherworldly was truly rare. His mind couldn’t quite process it for a moment. But when he heard her call him “dummy,” his expression soured, and he replied irritably, “What is it? Does Miss want the student to write a letter for her?”

The Second Miss hesitated for a moment, then nodded mischievously. “Fine, you write.”

Charles Clark had no choice but to set out his brush, ink, paper, and inkstone again. “May I ask, Miss, to whom shall the letter be addressed?”

The Second Miss thought for a moment. “Write it to a dummy.”

Charles Clark’s eyes dimmed a little. He was sure this young lady had sneaked out to write a letter to her lover behind her family’s back. He thought to himself: Such a beautiful flower, who knows which family’s pig will get to root it up.

But business was business. He pulled himself together and asked, “Is it for your lover?”

The Second Miss’s expression changed instantly, her nose wrinkling in anger. She spat, “Nonsense, it’s for a dog.”

Charles Clark couldn’t help but laugh. So she was here to cause trouble. Where did this brat come from, daring to stir up trouble right under my nose? Doesn’t she know that I, yours truly, am a hero who kicks over kindergartens and punches through nursing homes, specializing in dealing with all sorts of troublemakers?

Charles Clark put on a stern face. “Is Miss here to make fun of me?”

Seeing Charles Clark’s displeased look, the Second Miss quickly said, “Just write, I’ll pay you double. Who’s making fun of you?”

Charles Clark thought about it and his anger faded. Rich young ladies always had strange tempers. I’ll just earn my money, he thought, and spread out the paper. “What would you like to write, Miss?”

The Second Miss was stumped again, then blurted out, “Just ask if he’s been well lately. If he doesn’t behave, I’ll knock him out and skin him to make dog stew.”

Charles Clark broke out in a cold sweat. This young lady was like a rose—beautiful on the outside, but covered in thorns. He nodded, picked up the brush, paused to think, and then began to write. After months of running this stall, he had inherited the scholar’s learning, and besides, Charles Clark was extremely clever. His running script was already quite accomplished. As soon as he put brush to paper, his wrist moved as nimbly as a long snake, his bright eyes fixed on the page, fully focused, showing the bearing of a true master.

As Charles Clark wrote, he leaned forward slightly, his face turned to the side, just as the setting sun’s rays shone on him. The pale skin of his profile was illuminated by the sunlight, and the curve of his face made the Second Miss unconsciously stare. She couldn’t help but think, “He’s actually quite good-looking, just a bit slow.”

While the Second Miss was lost in thought, Charles Clark finished writing, let out a breath, and in just a hundred or so words, the letter was done. He straightened up, put the brush back in the holder, and said to the Second Miss, “All done, Miss. See if you’re satisfied.”

The Second Miss carefully took the letter. She knew nothing about running script, so she turned to the little maid beside her and asked, “Take a look—are these characters any good?”

The little maid leaned in for a while and said, “These characters are really well written, much better than Mr. Wang, the tutor at the manor. Second Miss, he’s the one—someone who’s well-educated and reasonable can’t be wrong.”

Charles Clark was worried they wouldn’t pay, so he watched them warily. There were too many bad people these days; who knew if they’d just take the letter and run? If they tried to run, he’d have to teach them a lesson.

Hearing the maid’s words, the Second Miss smiled sweetly at Charles Clark, her pretty face like a spring breeze. She opened her mouth gently and said, “Your handwriting is really beautiful.”

But Charles Clark kept a straight face. “No need for double payment. One letter, three coins. Pay up quickly, I’m closing up for the day.”

The Second Miss reached into her sleeve, and Charles Clark thought she was getting money. But what emerged from her long sleeve was actually a wooden staff. Charles Clark was stunned. What’s going on... is this a robbery?

Before he could react, the staff in the Second Miss’s hand traced a half-arc through the air and came down hard on Charles Clark’s head.

“Thud...” Charles Clark cried out in pain, clutching his head.

The Second Miss was stunned too, muttering in shock, “He didn’t faint?”

Charles Clark began to shout, “Help! Robbery! How heartless...”

The Second Miss gritted her teeth and commanded the two sedan bearers behind her, “Quick, grab him, let me hit him again.”

The two burly bearers pounced like wolves and tigers, grabbing Charles Clark tightly and covering his mouth. The Second Miss, taking her time, raised the staff and gave Charles Clark another hard whack on the head. Charles Clark was still struggling. The Second Miss panicked and said, “Why isn’t he fainting? Didn’t Master Liu say a knock on the head would make him pass out? Wasn’t it hard enough?”

“Thud...”

“Thud...”