The lady was missing an accessory to go with her outfit. Not only did Henry Clark know about this, but Mr. Harris did as well. Last time, Henry Clark had hoped that Adam Sullivan would present this gift to win his mother’s favor, but Adam Sullivan refused. Similarly, Mr. Harris encouraged his nephew to give this gift, even contributing ten strings of cash for William Harris to make the arrangements. Unexpectedly, it worked—seeing the lady’s barely concealed smile, the uncle and nephew finally felt half their worries ease.

William Harris, full of trepidation, said, “The money spent was saved up from selling some of my calligraphy and paintings. It’s just a token of my respect, I wouldn’t dare accept any reward from you, madam.”

The lady replied, “It’s your thought that counts, and I appreciate it. You and Adam Sullivan are both good children.”

Adam Sullivan coughed and then said, “Madam, I have also prepared a gift to celebrate your birthday.”

The lady looked at Adam Sullivan with a beaming smile, and everyone else craned their necks in anticipation. Adam Sullivan had already impressed them several times tonight—what else would he bring out to win the lady’s favor?

Under everyone’s gaze, Adam Sullivan took a small Buddha statue from his robe. The statue was covered in knife marks and clearly unfinished. Adam Sullivan offered it with both hands, saying, “I only learned two days ago that today is your birthday, so I was pressed for time. Please accept this Guanyin Bodhisattva statue with a smile.”

The statue was not exquisite; in fact, it looked rather rough, with many uneven knife marks. If Adam Sullivan hadn’t said it was Guanyin, most people present wouldn’t have recognized it at a glance.

But the lady was very pleased. “Good, good, it’s your thought that matters. I like it very much.” She reached out to take it, but her gaze fell on Adam Sullivan’s hands, and her brows furrowed.

Adam Sullivan’s hands, like the statue, were covered in cuts, especially the backs—one clear cut ran from between his fingers all the way to his wrist, shocking to see.

The lady’s eyes were already red. She said, “What happened to your hands? Did you hurt yourself carving the statue? Silly child, why don’t you take better care of yourself?”

The lady was truly moved. She liked William Harris’s gift—after all, it’s a woman’s nature to love beautiful things. But for someone as fortunate as her, matching accessories were just a preference; after all, you could buy them anywhere with a bit of silver.

But Adam Sullivan’s gift was different. What he gave was not a trinket, but his heartfelt sincerity. That sincerity weighed heavily, especially when she saw his hands, covered in cuts and scars, leaving her speechless with emotion.

Sometimes, a gift doesn’t need to be expensive. As long as it’s given with sincerity, even a goose feather or an unremarkable Buddha statue can touch the heart.

Adam Sullivan had copied countless works of carving art; sculpting a Buddha statue was easy for him. But he did this on purpose, deliberately making shallow cuts on his hands to show his sincerity. And this sincerity could not be measured by money. Especially for someone like the lady, who had lived a life of luxury and seen all kinds of treasures—yet upon seeing this statue, her view of Adam Sullivan changed completely.

Her gaze lingered on Adam Sullivan’s beautiful eyes, now filled with even more tenderness and affection.

The lady hesitated for a moment, then said, “Mr. Harris.”

Mr. Harris quickly responded, “What are your orders, madam?”

The lady said, “Go to the accounts room and get another ten strings of cash for William, so he can focus on his studies at home. Next year, he’s sure to pass the exams.”

Her meaning was clear: this page boy and William Harris were now out of the running for each other. To be fair, the lady was generous—she had rewarded William Harris with a total of thirty strings of cash, enough for a year’s expenses. But at this moment, William Harris’s face grew even paler. This was no longer about money—having lost to a servant, where could he put his pride?

The matter was settled. He forced himself to look grateful and managed a slight smile. “Thank you, madam.” But his smile was stiff.

Next came moon-gazing and eating pastries. Since the lady was devout, there was no wine served. Everyone happily ate pastries and then dispersed.

Chapter Eight: So Sinister

The lady returned to her bedroom, washed her hands, and fingered her prayer beads while reciting scriptures. She noticed that Ethan had not left yet, so she asked, “Ethan, go back and rest.”

Ethan bowed and agreed, but her feet didn’t move an inch. Her face was so embarrassed she couldn’t speak, wanting to say something but hesitating.

The lady said, “What’s wrong with you today, girl? Do you have something to say?”

Ethan closed her eyes, summoned all her courage, and said, “Madam, I heard that Adam Sullivan is a slick talker, lazy and gluttonous, always showing off the few characters he knows, and usually drags his feet with his work… I… I…”

She blurted it all out in one breath, but didn’t dare open her eyes, her face even more flushed with embarrassment.

“Oh?” The lady smiled, her gaze falling on Ethan. “Who taught you to say that?”

Ethan’s breathing grew heavier, and she was on the verge of tears. “I… I don’t know.”

But the lady just laughed. “Silly Ethan, you’ve been with me so long—do you think I don’t know your nature? Look at you, someone must have put you up to this.”

Ethan didn’t dare say another word.

The lady put down her prayer beads, a trace of coldness flashing in her eyes. “Was it Mr. Harris who told you to say this?”

Ethan stayed silent.

But the lady was no fool. Ethan was not one to lie, but who could order her around? There were no more than three people in the inner quarters. Who put Ethan up to slandering Adam Sullivan?