That young soldier in Handan City lingered in Charles Clark's memory, impossible to forget. Unwittingly, the Qin people had raised him up as the hope of the Zhao. Yet those admiring, reverent gazes felt unbearably piercing to Charles Clark; he dared not meet their eyes, for only he knew that he was not Zhao's Tian Dan, that he could not be a savior—instead, he might bring disaster to the hundreds of thousands of Zhao people who trusted him. He was unworthy of such respect and trust.

　　“Sorry, I am just an ordinary person without ability.”

　　Charles Clark walked out of the room and stood at the doorway, silently gazing into the distance.

　　At some point, Miller came in, looked at Charles Clark, and said, “Young master, the neighbor Mr. Clark has come to visit.” Charles Clark was taken aback and said, “Why did you stop him? Just let him come in directly.” Charles Clark quickly walked to the door. In this era, neighborly relations were still very good. This neighbor, Mr. Clark, was a good friend of his father, Zhao She. Mr. Clark's wife, Eleanor, would occasionally visit Charles Clark's mother; both women had married here from a small township called Lie, and their relationship was very close.

　　When he reached the door, not only was Mr. Clark there, but his wife Eleanor stood by his side as well. In Charles Clark's eyes, the elderly couple looked very much alike—both kindly, both smiling with their eyes narrowed, making them seem very approachable. Charles Clark hurriedly paid his respects to Mr. Clark, then greeted Eleanor. Hearing Charles Clark's voice, Eleanor was very happy; she had lost her sight several years ago and could no longer see.

　　“Since Lord Yan went to Mafushan, Mr. Clark and Eleanor haven't visited. Are you perhaps afraid that, being young, I don't know how to host guests?” Charles Clark asked with a smile. Mr. Clark, still leaning on his mulberry wood staff, replied, “We were just worried about disturbing your studies.” Charles Clark invited them to sit down. In this era, when guests visited, there were none of the later, more complicated rituals; you simply asked your guests to sit, with no need to prepare food or drink.

　　“When will your mother return?” Eleanor asked.

　　“In another seven or eight days, she’ll be back.”

　　“When she arrives, please let me know,” Eleanor instructed. Charles Clark agreed. Speaking of which, surnames in the Warring States period were truly peculiar. For example, Eleanor's surname was not Yi, nor was her clan name; it was her husband Mr. Clark's surname.

　　After Charles Clark agreed to Eleanor's request, Mr. Clark finally explained the reason for his visit. Mr. Clark said, “I am old now, and my eyes see everything as blurry, so I’d like to ask for your help in reading the contents of this family letter to us.” Mr. Clark handed a bamboo slip, sealed with red ink, to Charles Clark. Such a small favor, of course Charles Clark would not refuse. He picked up the letter and began to read it aloud for the couple.

　　They had two sons, both now at the Dan River. Charles Clark had grown up playing with them; they were friends. The two sons were safe, and the letter simply instructed the elderly couple to take care of their health and expressed their longing for them, which made Charles Clark breathe a sigh of relief. The elderly couple listened intently; Mr. Clark smiled happily, while Eleanor kept wiping away tears.

　　When Charles Clark finished reading, Mr. Clark carefully put away the bamboo slip. After repeatedly expressing his thanks, he prepared to leave. Mr. Clark reached out to take the hand of his blind wife, and the two of them, chatting and laughing, walked back toward their own courtyard. Charles Clark watched them go, feeling a strange sense of envy in his heart. Even Miller, standing nearby, showed a knowing smile. He looked at Charles Clark and said, “Young master, I want to start a family too.”

　　You want to start a family, but first someone has to take a liking to you, right?

　　……

　　“I’ve heard that the Zhao want to negotiate peace and plan to send John Grant to Qin. What does Uncle Ford think of this?” The King of Qin was, by now, the oldest among all the current rulers—already sixty-six, yet he showed not the slightest sign of age. He was tall and robust; even though he had grown thinner with age, he still looked strong. He wore a long beard, giving him a very imposing appearance.

　　Howard YoungSamuel Ford sat before him. Howard Young was probably the King of Qin’s most trusted minister and his most favored confidant. Hearing the king’s question, Samuel Ford smiled and said, “I believe this is a good thing.”

　　“Uncle Ford, you once taught me to ally with distant states and attack neighboring ones. Now is the time to crush Zhao and seize vast lands—how can we accept Zhao’s peace proposal?” the King of Qin asked, somewhat puzzled.

　　Samuel Ford shook his head and said, “Your Majesty, that’s not right. Now is not the time to crush Zhao, but to destroy Zhao completely. Therefore, I ask Your Majesty to write to General William King, ordering him to stop further attacks on the Zhao, and to send someone to receive John Grant, escorting him all the way to Your Majesty’s side. I ask that Your Majesty treat John Grant as a worthy talent, issue orders forbidding anyone from insulting or harming him, and have all Qin people show him respect.”

　　The King of Qin was greatly surprised. He said solemnly, “I have met John Grant before; he does not possess the talents you speak of, Uncle Ford, nor does he deserve such a welcome.” Samuel Ford stroked his beard and smiled, “Your Majesty, don’t say that. If you wish to defeat Zhao, you must show how much you value John Grant, and also demonstrate your desire to end the war.”