A fair, jade-like arm as smooth as congealed fat reached out, placing a white jade cup in front of Henry Bolton. The arm bent slightly, pouring half a cup of pale green fragrant tea, the movement gentle and full of artistic grace.

The tea’s aroma was strong, wisps of steam curling upward. Henry Bolton turned his head to look; the maid beside him was more beautiful than a flower, her face adorned with a faint smile, carrying the allure of ripe fruit waiting to be picked.

Though his heart stirred, he was no longer the wanton playboy he once was, especially with the current crisis looming. He quickly buried any ambiguous thoughts. Lifting the teacup, he took a small sip, but immediately frowned, opened his mouth, and lowered his head to spit into the porcelain spittoon at his side.

Grace’s pretty face suddenly turned pale. Frightened, she immediately stood up and stammered, “Third Young Master, this servant... this servant will go and bring fresh tea right away...”

Henry Bolton glanced at the panicked Grace and couldn’t help but smile slightly, speaking gently, “It’s fine, don’t be nervous, there’s nothing wrong with the tea. I’m just not used to this kind. In the future, when you brew tea, don’t add spices or any of those odd things. I only drink plain tea... just tea and water, understand?”

The special tea-drinking habits of the Tang people were something Henry Bolton, as a modern person, couldn’t appreciate. They liked to add all sorts of ingredients to their tea, which seemed elaborate but was really unnecessary.

Grace let out a long sigh of relief, her hand on her chest. She had thought her own tea had displeased her master, but after all this, it seemed the master had even changed his tea-drinking habits upon waking—plain tea? Just tea and water?

“Understood, this servant will remember.” Grace nodded hurriedly, then suddenly noticed the Third Young Master’s rather aggressive gaze unintentionally lingering on the snowy white of her chest, causing her cheeks to flush as she lowered her head.

……

……

Henry Bolton chuckled softly, “Grace, bring brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.”

Grace responded and went to the bookshelf to fetch the scholar’s tools, and Hazel came over to help as well. Although this playboy had never shown any interest in such things, as the son of the renowned minister William Bolton, the room was always prepared.

Grace spread out the paper, pressed it down with a jade lion paperweight, and handed the brush to Henry Bolton. Hazel sat cross-legged on the other side of the desk, gently grinding ink, though she was a bit surprised, thinking, could the Third Young Master be about to compose poetry? No way—how would he know how?

Henry Bolton picked up the brush, glanced at the two beautiful maids waiting at the desk, and suddenly felt a great sense of ease, as if the heavy gloom from the Zhang family’s crisis had been swept away a little.

As a historian and a famously scholarly official, Henry Bolton had a solid foundation in brush calligraphy after twenty years of practice. Even in this era where the brush was the main writing tool, though he couldn’t compare to masters like Li Yong or Zhang Xu, his skills were still respectable.

Henry Bolton flexed his wrist to get used to the brush, then steadied himself and began to write. Like flowing clouds and water, he wrote the four characters “HazelGrace”, but in the simplified script of later generations. Shaking his head, he rewrote them in traditional script, then smilingly pushed the paper toward the two maids.

The Zhang household was a family of scholars, so the maids and servants were naturally not illiterate.

Hazel and Grace leaned their pretty heads together, carefully examining the four characters Henry Bolton had written, and couldn’t help but exclaim in delight, “Third Young Master, what beautiful handwriting!”

Henry Bolton smiled without a word. He immediately took another sheet of paper and, with a few swift strokes, wrote the seven elegant characters “Banquet of Poetry and Wine at Qujiang Pool”, then gazed deeply at the paper and asked lightly, “HazelGrace, the poetry and wine banquet at Qujiang Pool hosted by Lady Guo is tomorrow morning, right? Go and find Lady Guo’s invitation for me.”

To save the Zhang family from crisis, it would begin with this poetry and wine banquet at Qujiang Pool. Watching the graceful figures of the two women, Henry Bolton had already made up his mind.

Chapter 008: Banquet of Poetry and Wine at Qujiang Pool (2)

Early the next morning, after washing up with the help of Hazel and Grace and eating a little something, Henry Bolton called his attendant Brian Bolton in the front yard and set off by carriage for Qujiang Pool.

No sooner had Henry Bolton left than Matthew Bolton and Stephen Bolton entered.

Matthew Bolton’s expression was unpleasant, and Stephen Bolton’s was even darker, his brows tightly knit as he sat in the Zhang family’s parlor without saying a word.

Seeing this, Clark and David Bolton guessed that the news the two had brought from the palace was not good, and their hearts immediately sank.

Clark also remained silent, anxiety filling her heart. After all, she was a woman, and at this point, she was at a loss, not knowing what to do.

In the end, it was David Bolton, moved by brotherly affection and worried for the fate of the entire Zhang family, who took the initiative to rise, bow deeply to his two uncles, and respectfully said, “Uncles, may I ask what news there is from the palace?”

Stephen Bolton waved his hand irritably but said nothing.

Matthew Bolton sighed deeply, gazed at David Bolton for a moment, then turned to Clark and forced a smile, “Sister-in-law, do you know where Xuan’er is?”

Clark was taken aback, then immediately sent someone to call Henry Bolton over.