The distance wasn’t far, and this was also for safety reasons. A single woman living in such a place—if no one looked after her, she might have already come to harm.

Little White supported William Foster to the doorway. William Foster coughed dryly, not knowing what to say, so he shot Little White a look.

Feudal society really is great! A single glance can solve everything.

Little White softly called out, “Young lady, young lady, my young master is here.”

The news that William Foster had regained consciousness had already been spread by Jason Foster as a tool for maintaining stability.

It made sense—so many people on the estate, but the master had been in a stupor for three years. Over time, it was inevitable that people’s hearts would become unsettled.

There was no movement inside. Just as Little White was about to raise his voice and call out, a clear, crisp voice came from within: “The young gentleman has arrived, please wait a moment.”

The voice was like a mountain spring, a lark in the forest, making William Foster utterly enchanted.

Little White leaned in to William Foster’s ear and whispered, “The young lady needs to freshen up a bit, otherwise it would be too discourteous.”

William Foster paid no attention, only wanting to see what the girl who had followed him so devotedly looked like.

After a short while, the sound of light footsteps approached. William Foster stared at the doorway until a girl, head lowered, walked out.

Grace Bolton wore a ruqun, with only a wooden hairpin in her thick, lustrous hair. Even with her head bowed, William Foster could still see her long eyelashes and her delicate, upturned nose...

She had a nice figure and very smooth skin. William Foster secretly swallowed a mouthful of saliva and bowed, “Thank you for your trouble, young lady.”

Grace Bolton’s eyelashes fluttered gently as she softly said, “To see the young gentleman awake, Grace does not feel troubled.”

Such virtue and grace! William Foster’s gaze drifted from Grace Bolton’s head into the room, where he saw a few unvarnished low stools and a small table, with needlework laid out on it.

Looking at Grace Bolton, who kept her head lowered, William Foster’s throat suddenly went dry. After a while, he finally said, “Your kindness is great, young lady. Let’s wait until I’ve recovered before discussing anything further. I won’t be a Chen Shimei.”

“Chen Shimei? Who is Chen Shimei?” Grace Bolton was only seventeen, and had lived alone for three years, so she was naturally curious about her “husband.” She boldly looked up and asked.

Her face was small and delicate, her features refined, and William Foster was stunned by her beauty. Only when Grace Bolton couldn’t stand his intense gaze and lowered her head again did he snap out of it.

“Uh! Just a faithless man.” Remembering Grace Bolton’s clear eyes from a moment ago, William Foster felt a bit embarrassed and coughed, “Take care of yourself. I’ll come see you again tomorrow.”

Watching William Foster’s somewhat dazed figure as he left, Grace Bolton stood where she was, her eyes turning red.

Three years! For an ordinary girl, her child would already be running around by now.

“Young master, do you really want to marry Miss Zhang? But she’s already been expelled from the Zhang clan!” Little White supported William Foster, cautiously reminding him.

William Foster had already seen Jason Foster waiting at the door. He smiled, “Do you want your young master to be an irresponsible scoundrel?”

“No!” Little White felt her probing was a bit out of line, but was relieved by the answer, which was exactly what she hoped for. “Young master, Miss Zhang is deeply devoted to you. You mustn’t let her down, I, I…”

At the beginning of the Ming dynasty, storybooks were already popular, especially here in distant Beiping, where many impoverished scholars made a living from them. Little White had read many storybooks with happy endings and greatly admired the love stories within.

“Young master.” Jason Foster stopped William Foster, lowering his voice, “Young master, Edward Clark has come again.”

“Who is Edward Clark?” William Foster had only been awake for a few days and wasn’t familiar with these people.

Jason Foster’s expression was grim, but seeing William Foster’s gradually recovering health, he managed a relieved smile. “Young master, Edward Clark is the local grain chief.”

Grain chief? William Foster had crammed a lot of knowledge in the past few days. He asked, “How much land tax do we have to pay?”

“Young master!” Jason Foster stamped his foot. “You’re a juren! We only have a bit over three hundred mu of land. According to the court—oh no, according to the local rules for juren, we’re exempt from taxes!”

Little White also huffed, “That’s right, young master. Ever since you, uh, had your incident, that Edward Clark has come every month to demand grain.”

Damn! As a member of the vast landlord class, William Foster had wanted to enjoy some privileges, let alone…

“I’m a juren?” William Foster felt his feet go weak, and even the clouds in the sky seemed to sway.

“That’s right!” Little White said proudly. “Just before the old master passed away, you passed the juren exam. It caused quite a stir at the time.”

“So I shouldn’t have to pay taxes?” William Foster wasn’t sure.

“Of course not!” Jason Foster and Little White both replied righteously.

William Foster recalled the many privileges of the Ming dynasty gentry and felt much more confident. Waving his hand in a grand manner, he said, “Let’s go meet this grain chief.”

Chapter 3: When the Lord is Humiliated, the Minister Dies, and Snowflake-Patterned Beef

In the main hall, a middle-aged man was furiously cursing: “Damn it! Has that little brat died yet? The sooner he dies, the sooner he can be reincarnated, so I don’t have to keep coming here to demand grain.”