At this moment, Liam Brooks was slumped over the table, feeling drowsy, when he suddenly saw Old Steward walk in together with that drunkard. He immediately sprang to his feet, mouth agape in surprise, and exclaimed, “Uncle—? Why did you bring him in here?”

Old Steward shot Liam Brooks a glare and said, “This is Kevin Thompson, Young Master Thompson. Take Young Master Thompson to the backyard to freshen up and change clothes. I’ll go to the kitchen and have Master Sullivan prepare a few dishes.”

Kevin Thompson gave Liam Brooks an apologetic smile and said, “Sorry to trouble you.”

A young master, huh? If a young master looked like you, then wouldn’t that make me some kind of prince or noble?

Liam Brooks curled his lip and said grumpily, “Li—Young—Master, let’s go!”

Liam Brooks led Kevin Thompson to a courtyard behind Zuixianju. The courtyard was neither big nor small, with seven or eight rooms in total, but they were all very simple and crude. It seemed these were once used as quarters for the staff who worked at Zuixianju.

Kevin Thompson followed Liam Brooks to the leftmost small room, which was filled with bathing supplies: a wooden tub, a ladle, a piece of hemp cloth that who knows how many people had used, and a lump of black stuff—he had no idea what it was. Later, Kevin Thompson learned from Liam Brooks that this thing was called “yizi,” used for bathing, probably similar to soap in later times.

Seriously? This counts as a bathroom?

Kevin Thompson’s face was full of surprise and helplessness. In his mind, this was at best a storage room.

……

After a while, Kevin Thompson finished bathing and came out, wearing a gray cotton robe. The robe had been left behind by a former staff member and was a bit short and small on him. Paired with his short, forehead-length hair, he looked rather out of place—almost like an extra on a film set in Hengdian.

When Kevin Thompson returned to the main hall, he saw Old Steward, Liam Brooks, and a bald, dirty old man sitting at a table chatting. On the table were three small dishes: stir-fried bamboo shoots, greens, scallion tofu, and a bowl of white rice.

When Old Steward saw Kevin Thompson come out, he hurriedly waved and called, “Young man, come sit down, the food’s getting cold.”

Kevin Thompson walked over with a smile and sat down next to Liam Brooks, gratefully saying to Old Steward, “Uncle Foster, thank you so much.”

Earlier, while Liam Brooks was boiling water for his bath, Kevin Thompson had asked him some questions and learned that Old Steward’s surname was Wu, full name Yvonne Foster, and he was the proprietor of the inn. Liam Brooks’s real name was Liam Foster, a staff member here and Yvonne Foster’s nephew. Besides the two of them, there was also Master Sullivan, the head chef, who must be the old man sitting here now.

Yvonne Foster smiled and nodded, then pointed to the bald old man beside him and introduced, “This is our head chef, Master Sullivan. These dishes were all made for you by Master Sullivan just now.”

Head chef?

Kevin Thompson was slightly taken aback. He was very sensitive to the title “head chef.” He glanced at Master Sullivan—the man looked at least in his late sixties, with almost no teeth left. Kevin Thompson was quite curious; at that age in his own time, people would have long since retired.

Being a chef is a job with strict age requirements. No matter how healthy you are, as you get older, your sense of taste, touch, and agility all decline significantly. And the health of people in their sixties in this era can’t compare to those in Kevin Thompson’s time. The older you get, the worse your cooking tends to be. To put it bluntly, no restaurant would hire a man in his sixties or seventies as their head chef.

That said, Kevin Thompson was still very grateful to the old man and smiled, “Master Sullivan, sorry to disturb your rest. I really feel bad about it.”

Seeing that Kevin Thompson was handsome, refined, and spoke with humility and courtesy, Master Sullivan immediately took a liking to him and chuckled, “No need to worry about that. Hurry up and eat—the food won’t taste good if it gets cold.”

“Alright!”

Kevin Thompson nodded. He thought about how he had no ties to these people, had never even met them before, yet they treated him so kindly. He was deeply moved. Picking up his chopsticks, he looked at the small dishes in front of him, and a wave of hunger suddenly hit him. Only then did he realize he hadn’t eaten all day. Just as he was about to dig in, he noticed the three of them were all watching him, and none of them had bowls or chopsticks in front of them. Curious, he asked, “Aren’t you going to eat?”

When Liam Foster heard this, a flash of fear crossed his eyes. “You go ahead and eat. My uncle and I have already eaten.”

Yvonne Foster also nodded and smiled, “Don’t worry about us, just eat.”

“Oh!”

Kevin Thompson was now too hungry to care, so he said no more, picked up his chopsticks, and shoveled a big mouthful of rice into his mouth. Then he picked up a few pieces of bamboo shoot and put them in his mouth. After just a few chews, he frowned.

Wow! This tastes awful!

Kevin Thompson was born into a family of chefs and had never eaten such terrible food in his life. If he hadn’t known in advance that this was a kind gesture from Master Sullivan, he probably would have spat it out already. He lowered his head, closed his eyes tightly, and kept shoveling rice into his mouth. Compared to those three dishes, the plain rice was like a delicacy from heaven!