Quentin Bennett merely smiled, full of confidence, and said, “No need to distinguish, this is a fake. Eunuch, look, this layer of mounting paper is still damp, which only happens with brand new mounting paper. But this calligraphy has been hanging in your hall for some time; by now, it should have dried out. Any mounting paper that’s dried becomes brittle, due to lack of moisture.”

Eunuch King listened in utter confusion, but saw Quentin Bennett continue, “Look at this calligraphy again—does it look like a work completed in one go? See how rounded the strokes are where the brush was lifted? It’s clearly been traced. Eunuch King, I dare to stake my life on it: this calligraphy has been swapped, and…” Quentin Bennett pressed his hand hard onto the ink on the scroll, rubbed forcefully, and a faint layer of ink stained his fingertip. Quentin Bennett went on, “And the swap happened not long ago, just within the last three to five days. But what’s strange is, this calligraphy isn’t some rare treasure, nor does it have any inscriptions or seals from important people. What’s the point of stealing it?”

Eunuch King sneered, “What do you know? Someone is trying to make trouble for me. Such a malicious intent.”

Quentin Bennett couldn’t help but glance sideways at Eunuch King, noticing his face was ashen. From his expression and words, Quentin Bennett guessed that this calligraphy was very important to Eunuch King. Precisely because of this, someone took the opportunity to swap it, which suggested this matter was tied to political struggle. Recalling Eunuch King’s earlier caution, Quentin Bennett thought even more that this painting was something Eunuch King absolutely could not afford to lose, and now that it was stolen, he didn’t want more people to know.

At this thought, a chill ran down Quentin Bennett’s neck, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the old eunuch would silence him. Good heavens, I have an elderly father at home and several big reed chickens below—my life is precious!

Quentin Bennett increasingly felt there was a chance he’d be silenced, and hurriedly said, “If someone is behind this, then after stealing your calligraphy, they’ll surely spread the word to attack you…” Quentin Bennett’s words were to tell Eunuch King that this matter couldn’t be kept secret, and even if he killed him, it would be useless. He continued, “And since the calligraphy was just swapped, in my humble opinion, the thief must be someone from your household, probably bribed to take the risk. Since the swap happened recently, there might still be a chance to recover it. You could immediately send people to investigate and act quickly—there’s still hope to remedy the situation.”

Eunuch King said coldly, “Remedy? Hmph, the fewer people know about this, the better. If it was someone from my household who stole it, as soon as I give the order, the news might reach the thief in no time. People’s hearts are unpredictable—I can’t take that risk.”

This was no longer Quentin Bennett’s concern. Now, all Quentin Bennett could think about was whether he could get away, and whether Eunuch King would let him off for exposing the swap.

But Eunuch King looked Quentin Bennett up and down, and suddenly asked, “You’re just the son of a petty official, yet you’re skilled in calligraphy and painting?”

Quentin Bennett replied, “I know a little, just by chance.”

Quentin Bennett’s name contains the character for “modesty,” so of course he had to be modest. Actually, he wanted to show off, but he didn’t have the credentials, so it was better to keep a low profile. Seeing how this old eunuch’s room was covered in calligraphy and paintings, he was probably a cultured eunuch. Since ancient times, scholars have looked down on each other—if he boasted too much and the eunuch didn’t like it, who knew what dirty thoughts he might have? If he got castrated, where would he go to complain?

Eunuch King smiled warmly, like a spring breeze blowing away dark clouds, and said kindly, “It’s rare for someone so young to understand calligraphy and painting and still be modest. Not bad, not bad.”

Eunuch King went from a wrathful Vajra to a smiling Buddha in an instant, and Quentin Bennett found it hard to accept. This old eunuch really could change faces quickly, but couldn’t he at least give people a little mental preparation?

Moreover…

Quentin Bennett, having lived two lives, was no stranger to human nature. The old eunuch’s sudden praise was definitely not out of goodwill—he probably had something to ask.

Sure enough, Eunuch King placed his left hand behind his back, leaned against the desk, and rhythmically tapped his right knuckles on the tabletop, as if he’d made up his mind. He then said, “But your prescription killed my steward—how can that debt just be written off? A life is a serious matter. Even if I don’t punish you, if you’re handed over to the authorities, you won’t escape exile for three thousand miles. But I’m not unreasonable, am I?”

Eunuch King then smiled and said, “What’s done is done. The most important thing now is to fix it. I have a kind heart, and you’re so young—how could I push you into the fire pit? Here’s the deal: I have a task for you. If you do it well, all past debts will be wiped clean. But if you fail…”

Eunuch King’s expression changed again, and he gave Quentin Bennett a sinister smile. “Then we’ll settle old and new scores together. Well, have you thought it through?”

This was the classic carrot and stick. Quentin Bennett felt utterly miserable—this was the fate of having no power or influence.

“Whatever you command, sir, I am willing to go through fire and water. I have long heard of your sterling reputation, and to serve you would be my greatest honor—how could I possibly refuse?”