A white parrot from Celebes, a little dog from Samarkand, a strange book from Magadha, and an aphrodisiac from Byzantium—these four items, each in their own way, stirred Henry Bolton's anticipation for the flourishing Tang Dynasty, while also reminding him to always remember his identity as a scion of a noble family.

The snow-white little dog lay obediently on the carpet, its fur smooth and spotless, its eyes shining with a drunken and fawning light. This left Henry Bolton speechless—truly, what kind of person raises what kind of dog? Even the dog had sunk so low; as the saying goes, people are down-to-earth, and dogs take after their owners.

Hazel gently rolled up her sleeves, revealing arms as white and smooth as jade, and stood softly behind Henry Bolton, combing his hair for him. Meanwhile, Grace lifted the waistband of her ruqun with one hand, then bent over to fasten his bootlaces.

Even in his previous life as a deputy mayor, he had never enjoyed such superlative treatment, with beautiful maids attending to his every move. Henry Bolton sighed inwardly as he enjoyed it, his gaze involuntarily falling on the large expanse of tender white skin and deep cleavage at the collar of Grace's light green blouse, as well as the faintly visible fullness, causing him to press his lips together.

The people of the Tang Dynasty indulged in pleasure and admired voluptuous beauty. These two little maids were at most fourteen or fifteen years old, yet their figures were already so shapely and developed, which truly amazed him.

Grace seemed to sense her master's aggressive and improper gaze. Her heart skipped a beat, and she withdrew her hand, wanting to get up but not daring to, so she sat awkwardly on the carpet at her master's feet.

The customs of the flourishing Tang were open, and Tang women matured early. Although Hazel and Grace had just come of age, they were not unfamiliar with matters between men and women. Ever since they had been assigned by Mrs. Clark to serve the third young master Henry Bolton day and night, the two girls had long been mentally prepared to offer themselves at any time.

All they could hope for was that their master would be a bit more generous, and not, after tiring of them, casually give them away to his equally idle and dissolute friends, discarding them like worn-out shoes.

Weren't the previous two maids in this room, Clara and Lillian, examples of such a miserable fate?

Grace, blushing, lowered her head and fiddled with a strand of carpet, feeling anxious and uneasy.

But after waiting a long time, she did not see her master make any of the expected daytime advances. Grace grew even more uneasy, slowly raising her head to steal a glance at Henry Bolton, only to see that Henry Bolton had already turned his head away.

Could it be that he doesn't fancy me? Grace's heart sank, but she also felt a sense of loss and grievance, sitting on the floor and forgetting to get up. Hazel coughed lightly, and while Henry Bolton wasn't paying attention, lightly kicked Grace's jade-like hip with her foot.

Grace hurriedly glanced at Hazel, her cheeks instantly flushing crimson.

Suddenly, the chaotic, urgent, and steady sound of many running footsteps thundered, shattering the morning tranquility of the Zhang residence and disrupting the budding ambiguous desire in Henry Bolton's heart. Next came the rumble of carriages and horses, the clashing of swords, and then a shrill, arrogant voice rang out, echoing over the Zhang estate for a long time.

"By order of His Majesty: The Left Admonisher to the Crown Prince, Samuel Bolton, has falsely claimed omens and slandered the imperial carriage. He is to be immediately stripped of office, imprisoned, and handed over to the authorities for investigation."

Henry Bolton was shocked, his face changing dramatically. He suddenly looked up, sprang to his feet, and ran outside. Hazel and Grace, equally alarmed, followed him out of Henry Bolton's bedroom and hall, through a beautifully carved wooden corridor, and the master and two maids hurried toward the main hall in the front courtyard.

Chapter 002: A Scion of a Noble Family, a Profligate (2)

The eunuch delivering the decree appeared to hold a high position, though he was quite young.

Accompanying him were not only the imperial guards of the Yulin Army but also officials from the Court of Judicial Review and a number of attendants, which showed the seriousness of Samuel Bolton's offense.

William Bolton had three sons and two daughters; the eldest was Samuel Bolton. At thirty-five, relying on his father's reputation and influence, and with some talent of his own, he had advanced smoothly in his career, attaining the position of Left Admonisher to the Crown Prince—a fifth-rank official, serving as an advisor to Crown Prince Li Heng.

The second son, David Bolton, was an eighth-rank attendant. Although a minor, unranked literary official, at least he held an official post and did not disgrace William Bolton too much.

Only the youngest, Henry Bolton, was neither accomplished in literature nor martial arts, spending his days wandering the markets and frequenting brothels, skilled in every vice—eating, drinking, whoring, and gambling—but utterly useless at proper affairs, bringing shame to the Zhang household.

Samuel Bolton and David Bolton were born to William Bolton's first wife, Bennett. The two daughters were born to concubines and had long since married—no need to mention them.

Bennett died young. In the twentieth year of the Kaiyuan era, William Bolton remarried Clark, and in the twenty-second year, Henry Bolton was born. When William Bolton passed away in the twenty-eighth year of Kaiyuan, Henry Bolton was only six years old, likely a result of losing strict paternal discipline early and being spoiled by a doting mother.

Although Clark was a second wife, she was a proper wife, not a concubine—her status was clear.

After William Bolton's death, Clark became the legitimate matriarch of the Zhang family. For this reason, even though Samuel Bolton and David Bolton could hardly stand their youngest brother Henry Bolton, for the sake of Clark and their late father, they had to tolerate him somewhat.

……

……

"Your servant is wronged, Your Majesty..." Dressed in official robes, his face ashen, Samuel Bolton knelt facing the direction of the imperial palace, sobbing uncontrollably. Behind him, Clark, David Bolton, and the others knelt, their faces deathly pale, lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.