Grace Bolton also agreed with Little White's opinion. In her view, even if there was more grain than they could eat, who knew when a famine might strike!

The Chinese have a tradition: dig deep shelters and store up plenty of grain.

William Foster saw that his wives were all united in opposing him, so he laughed and said, "Put your minds at ease. I've said it before—even if the whole world is starving, our family will never lack food."

Little White immediately stopped arguing, but Grace Bolton still had some doubts.

William Foster didn't say much more. Since they were newlyweds and there was nothing to do at night, the whole night was spent rolling around.

The next morning, William Foster exercised in the courtyard as usual, then went to take a bath.

Grace Bolton used to get up with him, but later William Foster insisted she must sleep until dawn. When she woke up, she heard Little White outside exclaiming, "Young master, there are so many bags here!"

Grace Bolton hurried out, and as soon as she reached the door, she saw a tall pile in the yard. In the morning light, she noticed that there was some crooked writing on the bags.

"What is this?"

Grace Bolton touched a bag and found it very soft.

"This is flour."

William Foster walked over, drying his hair with a towel as he spoke.

"So much?"

Little White opened her mouth wide, thinking this flour would be enough for everyone in the manor to eat for a month.

Grace Bolton snapped out of her shock and asked, "Husband, where did this flour come from?"

William Foster replied indifferently, "A friend of mine sent it. Grace, for those who worked hard on the manor this time, use this flour as a reward. But remember to keep the bags—I have a use for them."

Suppressing her surprise, Grace Bolton nodded and said, "Husband, with this flour, I'll discuss things with the steward today."

Meanwhile, Little White mischievously cut open a bag, grabbed a handful of flour, and shouted, "Young master, this flour is so white!"

William Foster said disdainfully, "This is flour with the bran and malt removed, and the outer layer is finely processed. It's nowhere near as tasty as our own."

This was all-purpose flour, processed to look snow-white, while the Fang family's flour looked a bit dull.

Seeing such white flour, Grace Bolton couldn't help but say, "Husband, why don't we keep a few bags for ourselves?"

William Foster replied impatiently, "I'm a man—why should I care about such things? Do as you like, do as you like!"

Watching William Foster leave with Mr. King, looking just like a young master, Grace Bolton couldn't help but smile.

"Little White, go and fetch the steward."

William Foster then went to the left side of the manor, where there was another farmstead. This one looked a bit dusty, with a few old farmers weeding in the fields—a rather dull scene.

"This place is pretty big!"

William Foster felt a bit jealous; the land here was actually bigger than Fang Manor's.

Mr. King came over, indignantly saying, "Young master, this place belongs to Li Dezheng, the Shuntian Prefecture magistrate. That guy must be a huge corrupt official!"

"Don't talk nonsense!"

William Foster knew that the reputation of "Zhu the Flayer" still lingered, and that the bureaucracy wasn't yet as corrupt as it would be decades later.

"But he's no good either!"

A mere eighth-rank magistrate could actually get his hands on several hundred mu of land—tsk tsk!

Turning around, William Foster pointed with his folding fan to the back of the manor and said, "Come on, let's go take a look by the river."

The reason this manor was valuable was because there was a river behind it. The river ensured that Fang Manor and the other estates never had to worry about drought.

The river was about thirty meters wide, the water calm, with willows drooping on both banks. Some of the branches even touched the water, attracting a few small fish to play nearby.

William Foster didn't know much about fish, but that didn't stop him from telling Mr. King to go back and fetch a net.

After Mr. King left, William Foster simply took off his outer clothes, rolled up his pants, and enthusiastically waded into the shallow water, reaching under the rocks to feel for crabs.

The river water was cool. William Foster's hands reached under a rock and felt something moving back. He was instantly delighted.

"David Foster!"

"Ouch!"

William Foster had just caught something, but a shout from the bank made him pause.

"Damn!"

William Foster pulled out his hand, ignoring the crab clamped onto his left index finger, and looked toward the bank.

Thomas Bolton stood on the bank, the breeze blowing, giving him a bit of a dashing young man's air. He pointed in surprise at William Foster's left hand, " David Foster, what's that?"

William Foster forced himself ashore and said proudly, "It's a crab. If I catch a few more, we can make a dish for lunch."

"Cook it?"

This Thomas Bolton was probably a young master who had never done a day's work. He covered half his face with his folding fan and said, "David Foster, can you eat that?"

At this time, northerners didn't really eat crab, so it was normal not to recognize it.

Chapter 12: Spreading Harmful Rumors

When Mr. King came running over with the net, he saw William Foster barefoot, looking nothing like a gentleman, standing with Thomas Bolton on the riverbank, both bent over searching for crab holes.

"Ouch! It bit my hand!"